A day of rice and getting work done

I used to work in a children's museum. And not the kind of museum that you look at art work. So I know how to do work in loud hectic places. 

However, I was extremely impressed with the community health workers last week. These working conditions were ones I hope to never be faced with again.

It was partially my fault. I waited until the last minute to gather the women to prepare our radio program. This weeks program was about respiratory infections and the two community health workers were from a village across the way and they happen to be having a party on the day that we had to prepare out program. 

(Respiratory infections are quite an issue in the villages of Madagascar because I the methods of cooking over fire in the house or in right quarters.)

It had to be done. So, I marched over to the party, dodging drunk men and attempting to dodge the drunk women as well. But in the attempt of not being welcomed into houses, I lost my way. 

 Fenoarivobe is one of the larger villages I work in and so the very similar houses are placed closely together creating a maze like establishment. I needed help. But with people dancing and singing and drinking and playing dominos, I felt as if I was interrupting but luckily being the only one not celebrating, people caught on and escorted me to my destination. 

Once finding the community health workers we sat in a house overflowing with eager children and work began immediately, as if nothing was going on. 

The two of them created an educational story to tell on the radio while men came tumbling into the homes, children pulled on their clothes, and chickens ran in and out of the house. They greeted people that came by, they were cooking dinner for handfuls, they were teaching me about the festival and getting the job done. They finished the program in an hour or so and the doctor happily approved of the health message. 

I'm impressed with these women not only because they can work in noisy situations but because they didn't even hesitate to say yes to working during a village party. They didn't tell me to come back later or say "maybe tomorrow". They happily invited me into their homes, to join the celebration, to get the job done and done well. 

I was amazed that these two women wore multiple hats in one afternoon, of mothers, friends, hosts and health workers, and that is why I'm impressed, proud and honored to work with such wonderful people. 

The party that day is in celebration of harvesting their rice as a village. They fold their green rice into small folders made out of leaves and give them to friends and family for another year of good harvest and pour rice on their heads to bless them and of course eat rice, for one entire day! 

Heaven, or as they call it, The Goat Farm

With 150 goats, 10 sheep, many many chickens and rabbits and a handful of donkeys, it's safely decided that I will one day have a farm of my own. 

My best friend and I went to "The Goat Farm" 6km north of Ambohimasoa. Not only did we go, we biked up the intense incline which is the only road to get there. 

I guess us getting there was all apart of the adventure. So, I'll start with me at site, sitting and waiting for my friend. We were going to bike to Manakara, catch a brousse to Ambohimasoa and once arriving at 1 in the morning, find a hotel in the dark and bike to the goat place the next morning. 

But I received a text explaining that she got picked up by a Peace Corps' car. What a pleasant surprise, because well, I've only been in a peace corps' car a handful of times going in the direction of my choice. 

Even though we were crammed in the back with two bicycles and a trunk we made it from my site to Ambohimasoa before our brousse would have even left Manakara, and this is with stopping and visiting 3 other Peace Corps' Volunteers on the way North. The only bad part about us taking the quick route was that I didn't get to go to the bank- which became a larger problem later in the trip. 

Side note- on our way North we stopped in Kelilalana and met the co-founder of Friends of Madagascar, Peter Balaski. A great guy with a welcoming accent placed somewhere in The States that I just can't quite decide on but I knew I liked it (and is a Montana home owner). He started the organization 8 years ago and has executed some mighty fine projects here. 

He was so eager to show us his new library tree house for the high school and really we couldn't say no to going on a tour because there doesn't seem to be anything cooler than that. 

And later, I'll tell ya'll about how we met him again and had some Sweet Baby Rays! 

But moving Northward. We took a short cut from Ranomafana to nearly Ambohimasoa, going off road and seeing the nice countryside of the Highlands (a land I'm not so used to). Peace Corps dropped us off at a bank (not my bank unfortunately) and we almost instantly found some bungalows to stay in. Our expected night search for a bed was then transformed into us finding a place at 4 in the afternoon and then wandering the streets of a small big city with nothing else to do. The place was nice, don't get me wrong but when you're on your way to a secluded goat farm with nice South African wine in stow and fresh salads with goat cheese waitin for you, this place looked a little dumpy. So, we had dinner by 6 and then were in the room by nightfall (because we're smart, or because we were scared) listened to a podcast about sushi, day dreamt about sushi and talked about the US. 

The next morning we were ready to go by 7! On our bikes with our bags strapped on. I distinctly remember a man asking "handeha midina sa miakitra?" Are you going down or up? And I'm not sure what the hell direction I thought I was going because I said down, we're goin downhill with a huge ass grin on my face. I was wrong. Severely wrong. We were going uphill the entire 6km to this peaceful little goat farm. Sounds easy when you come from a region known for it's intense bikers (shout out SudEst) but no, we had bananas for breakfast, we were in a higher elevation- harder to breath-duh, and we just don't like hills. I'm not good at biking hills, never have ne'er will. So, I got off my bike twice to walk and enjoy the view, as we put Ambohimasoa behind us and it sank into 

the distance below. 

We got slightly worried on the way as well because when biking on an incline, you think you've arrived at the 6km mile marker on multiple occasions. But never fail, we arrived, to drag our bikes up a countless amount of stone steps and be stared at by Malagasy youngsters and French men buying goat cheese by the barrel. 

We immediately went to go look at the goats (and sheep) being set out to pasture. Whatever the hell that means/ I just learned what that meant. It was cute. As many of my friends and family know, I love baby goats, which I think are called "kids", and so seeing nearly 50 baby goats jumping around, frolicking if I dare say, brought me insurmountable joy- as my friend simply stood there watching me watch the goats. 

We went back for an overpriced yet amazing lunch! Enjoyed it while drinking wine and then for dessert it was goat cheese with chili powder and honey. Sounds like a ridiculous combo but let me tell you, the best of ridiculous combos ever invented. 

We then found out that we under priced our two night visit and as I said earlier didn't go to the bank. So, our two night stay simply became one night and we cut out a hike to see lemurs, been there done that, who needs to see stinkin' lemurs?

We played cards in the afternoon while drinking more wine. Banaz helped me discover I am terrible at rumi/rummy(?). And then we watched a bunch of foreigners roll in and feed some nearby lemurs(!) a ton of bananas. 

Dinner was absolutely amazing again, we were eating goat oddly enough, our spectacle of the day became the dish of the day, which should bug me because I love goats so much but the scent and taste clouded my emotions. This is either before or after we drunkenly tried playing darts. 

The owner heard our change of plans do to monetary issues and the next morning offered us free breakfast and lowered the amount for the hike in the woods. When he asked if we would like to see lemurs on a hike, I forgot about my freaking lemurs comment and was like, "yay! bring on these lemurs!!" We spent the morning looking at chameleons and lemurs on our knock-off roll-back hiking price. (Pictures to come later, none on my phone, the phone I write all these blog posts on).

To top it all off, a nice gaggle of Germans offered us a ride to Ranomafana for FREE! Banaz and I have already saved 25,000AR and add another to it. These nice folks took us all the way down the mountain in which we came! Our luck had not run dry. 

Upon arriving in Ranomafana we instantly got on or bikes and kept heading South. Riding through rainforest is quite nice and we had plans to stop to say hello to our knew friend, Peter Balaski. 

He was not there, he was still in Kelilalana, but nice people offered us cold Coke and some oil for my chains. They were prepping gross amounts of food for a party they were off too. I was slightly jealous.

We were off again, planning on spending the night at another volunteers' house in Kelilalana, "the nicest Peace Corps' house", is what Peace Corps told us. And it was. It had not only four sturdy walls and a roof but running water and electricity! And to top it all off, we found good ol' Peter Balaski, the party with gross amounts of food, a grill fired up with thick chicken legs bathing in Sweet Baby Ray sauce, live music, and rum, lots of rum. We had only biked 15km that day, this was an insane surprise. 

We ate and drank and sang and sent Peter off, as that was his going away party (until he returns again in February). 

We had a great time, including the Malagasy who weren't quite sure why we were all so happy about the BBQ sauce.

It was glorious! And that was the first time I'd ever played Boggle, fun game! 

The next day Banaz and I set off for another 50km bike ride, hoping to arrive at Sambatra, with nearly 40 PCVs already there. But I'll tell you all about that leg of the trip in the next post.

Oh man... Kids do the darnedest things

A child picked some flowers for me. I told her they would be pretty in a glass (acting as a vase) then she shoved them all into the glass one by one, crushing them to fit them all in. I guess we weren't one the same page... How dumb of me to assume a child in Africa knew what a vase was to display pretty flowers. 

Gettin' at it. A florist in the making. 

Here she is, all proud and posing. (Ask me why they always pose with stuff in front of their faces so we can't see them fully, and I have to answer for you).