What's all that squawking about?

With all the presidential propaganda and local propaganda that was driving around in November and December, (people in vans screaming through beat up aged microphones and exhausted speakers) the kids have it drilled into their minds that silence is unacceptable. 

So, all I've  been hearing lately is a whole bunch of high-pitched nonsense coming from the kids.

I just assumed they were making fun of me and my naturally high pitched and at times squeaky voice caused by excitement. 

Turns out they've been chanting "Kelsey ho deputy, número quinze!"

They want me to run for deputy and with all the propaganda that was going around they thought they'd be my propaganda; loud, unintelligible, basically disturbing peace and quiet for the whole village. 

Fortunately for the real candidates, kids can't vote, because if they could and if in fact I were competing, I would win by a long shot. 

The first but certainly not the last post about taxi brousses (stations)

I go back and forth on what's worse; taxi brousse stations or actually being in the taxi brousse?

Either way, you're uncomfortable and getting nowhere quickly. 

But this post is about my latest experience in a taxi brousse station.

This was my first time taking a night brousse all by myself. Also, I had already been in a taxi brousse for 35 hours prior to this last stretch towards home. So, for all that know me well, I was slightly grouchy and probably the least pleasant person at the station that day.

I arrive on time, but really, what the hell is the point of that?

I'm assisted by a man, who I reassure that I already have a reservation, but he continues to usher me towards a vehicle. Luckily, my driver recognizes me and gets a hold of me and assists me to the correct van. Earlier man comes with and sits in the empty brousse with me, and with the foggy closed windows because of the rain outside, I'm thinking this is a bad idea!

And I'm grouchy so I don't want to talk to anyone at the moment. I ask him politely why he's there? He says he wants to be my friend. Uh huh... Really? I chat a little, even though it's a tale as old as time that this guy wants a "white girlfriend". Then I ask him politely to leave me alone after the conversation gets weird with the typical "where's your boyfriend" question. He refuses. Calls me a bitch- at least that was clear. Yet, he still wants to be my friend and won't leave. Some people enter the car to sit and wait as well and so I think it's okay to pretend to sleep. Creepo to the left starts petting my head. Yep, definitely not cool. I ask him to leave about nine more times, ask the others to help me out a bit and then finally when I say the magic words of "you're being rude and don't even know your own methods/morals" he leaves. And other passengers agree he was a little "sick in the head". 

Adventure still not over. 

After waiting another  2 1/2 hours in the car, I had to go pee, I'm a well hydrated human. 

 I asked the "driver's assistant", "hey, when are we leaving? Because I've gotta go pee."

He replies with, "now."

YAAA right. "Soooo where can I go pee?"

He replies with, "right there," nods his head in a direction, "behind the brousse."

"Like right in the middle of the taxi brousse station?"

"Ya..."

And so, after being somewhat harassed, I went pee in the middle of a taxi brousse station in the pouring rain. First time for everything. Thank God I didn't have to go number two and that we left shortly after that. 

That day, the taxi station took the win for being worse than the actual ride. 

Not a rare occurrence. (But that's not even the car I was in, my driver is the one in the white shirt doing nothing.)

Let's order in tonight

I remember when I was little and I'd tell my mom, "we need to go grocery shopping! There's nothing in the fridge/pantry!" And she'd walk into the kitchen and simply concoct a delicious meal with 2.3 ingredients and I'd be blown away by her cooking wizardry. 

I'm striving to have the same concocting capabilities as her. 

In my village there is one proper hotely (hotely is like a restaurant). It's nice, I can get any kind of bird that exists in this region or their equivalent of a cow or noodles. It's nice and everything is only $1.50! Which actually is a lot when you only make $200 a month. 

So, I cook. I've never really enjoyed cooking that much but when you're stuck with nothing else to do when the sun sets, you fire up your gas stove (until that runs out and then you're forced to use charcoal- big shout out to Malagasy for having to make fire three times a day to cook).

So, with an abundant amount of vegetables it's usually some sort of stir fry. But lately it's been masala. Or now I'm adding honey  (which is also straight from the hive here) to everything. I've been making breakfast rice (when I run out of oatmeal), which is soupy rice with sugar and cinnamon. I'm mastering soups in general! It's fun and fairly easy! 

I'm gonna be honest and say that I don't get welcomed in to eat with Malagasy that often. I heard many stories about how I'll never really need to cook because people will always invite me in. No, it's the opposite. I'll go to the market for some ingredients and come back with a few women and children eager to teach me how to cook. Pretty cool! There's tons of stuff at the market I can't even recognize what it is let alone know how to cook, so these people are really helpful! I now know how to clean and prepare a fish. I know how they use their plants in combination with other vegetables. I now know that you can eat some seeds in fruit! 

You can cook jackfruit seeds and eat them! 

My previous post on malnutrition still holds true, so I wish this whole sharing new recipes would spread throughout the whole village and we'd all be healthier because of balanced meals, maybe soon enough that will happen. I'm glad that people feel comfortable in my home and are willing to teach me new things.

Cooking for one by candlelight.

Unfortunately, I can't bake, no oven. And I'm not willing to try baking on top of a fire...I'd just be disappointed I think.

Sometimes when us Americans get together in bigger cities we joke about whose turn it is to call in for delivery. 

"But I did it last time!" Someone would say. 

"How are we gonna pay? Credit card over the phone?" Another person would ask.

All fun and games until we realize how sad it is that that's not a possibility anywhere in this country (at least no place I've been). Ha. 

The point of this post? Can someone order me some Chinese food? Please! 

Chickens as voandalana

So the whole post before this was written fueled by frustration and now this is being published to continue the confusion I have with the voandalana system. 

A few months ago I went to my furthest village that I work in, Amboafandra. It's about 9km away on the main road and then about 4km off the main road. I have to go through nearly every material of earth. Cement, gravel, sand, mud, grass, a little bit of water and over a bridge too. I'm not complaining, I have a bike, so I can get there in about 45 minutes. 

So, when I went to this village that is so remote, of course some people were surprised I made the effort to find the place and then hang out with them. So, of course they gave me a chicken as a gift, or as they call it, voandalana. 

This is Woah Bow. My first ever chicken. He's a boy, which I discovered way to late, after bragging about him making eggs for me. And his name was Wilber but the kids kept saying "Woah Bow", and it stuck. He now sleeps in the orange tree above my house. He's huge, clever and coocoos like noone's business.

Then another one of my coworkers saw my new chicken and gave me a little chicken house. That was nice, but he's spent a total of only 3 nights sleeping in this little house. He likes his tree. 

I went to do another program in this far off village again this week. I spent two days working in the schools teaching about hygiene and water sanitation. I actually had a great time! Before leaving they pull a little chicken out of nowhere and hand HER over. Uhhhh, seriously?! Again? I couldn't possibly take this! It's too much, really! 

There she is! Tied to my house for her own protection and hopefully realizing it as her new home. Her name is Fandra (pronounced Fawndra, because she's from Amboafandra). I like her. She sleeps in said chicken house and is quiet.

So, on my bike back home with a chicken shoved in my saddle bag I'm thinking why these people keep giving me chickens? Maybe they have excess amounts of chickens? Should I give them a chicken next time? Do I really want to have another chicken? Should I go back there and now assume to get a chicken and then I can start a chicken farm? 

With all those questions still in mind I am a proud owner of two chickens now, thanks to the voandalana system. A boy and a girl! A little chicken family and soon too they will multiple and I can have my chickens and eat my eggs too! 

What is "voandalana"

Mother f'ing voandalana. 

It's a joke? 

You're supposed to ask for it? 

You're supposed to give it? 

What is voandalana exactly? 

The whole voandalana system is confusing and always frustrating to me.

Voandalana literally translates to, fruits of the road. 

So, when one goes on a trip, they're on the road and when we come back we give people gifts from the road. I think that's a cool cultural thing. 

Until... I have complete strangers asking me for voandalana. I think it's a nice gesture until... I have children asking me everyday for a voandalana when I only go to work at the hospital 1km away. 

I'm thinking, "we were just walking down the same road!!" I'm wanting to yell, "where's my voandalana?" Or "I went to work, and didn't buy voandalana." Or "I can't buy voandalana for all 2,000 of you." 

It was used almost like Bon voyage!

" I'm going away to visit a friend for a few days!"-me

"Okay, bring back voandalana!" -all humans that see me leave.

With no goodbyes, no safe travels! 

It was used as a greeting as I'm getting out of the taxi brousse.

"Where's the voandalana?" 

Oh, hey to you guys too! 

In the beginning I gave voandalana! I gave fruits, vegetables, toys, bread, photos, and more! That was a slippery slope. There was never enough to give and then every time I went away they expected it. I spent a lot of money on voandalana! Not good. Doesn't help me make friends, just shows off the money they think I have. 

Sometimes the people that I consider my friends tell me, "it's just a joke, Kelsey."

Uhhh okay, the joke is getting old and it's not all that funny to begin with. 

So, I've come up with some answers, to help with my sanity of this weird cultural difference. And I actually didn't come up with these, I'm using them though!

"I'm your voandalana!" The white person who works for free in your community. 

"The road is dry." That is sometimes true.

"Next time." That's actually a bold face lie.

"It's all gone, I've given it all away." Sometimes this is true. 

Or I just avoid the question by diverting the conversation to "the weather is great today, huh?" Or "how's your health?" Or I just laugh at it now, proving it's a joke or proving to them I've actually lost my sanity/might seem drunk to them. 

 

Literally fruit of the road for purchasing purposes, fueling the need for people to ask for voandalana.

Hands need cleaning

As a Peace Corps Health Volunteer it's our job to go around and tell people how to live their lives healthier. 

So, obviously I'm gonna start with the people that are on par language wise with me, the children. And I'm going to teach them how and when to wash their hands. The classic "5 Ws" were a big part of this lesson. 

Example: "okay, when should we wash our hands? There are five important times to wash our hands, can you all help me with when?"-Me

Silence.

"Okay, I'll start. We should wash our hands after we go to the bathroom. Anyone know another time? Remember there five important times."- me holding out five fingers.

Now, there is some commotion. Yes! The kids get it! One kid steps up triumphantly and says, "we should wash our hands on  Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday!" Big smile and five fingers held high on his kid. 

Ha! Well, that's not wrong, technically. But what about Saturday and Sunday? So, moving onward.

"Who should wash their hands?"-Me expecting to hear "everyone should!"

Nope.

Silence and then some murmurs "dirty  kids should." 

Not wrong but not the answer I'm looking for. These kids sure know how to answer questions. 

"How should we wash our hands? Who knows how to wash their hands?"-Me

A quicker response this time because now they're thinking my questions are becoming dumber by the minute. 

"You get water in a bucket and you put your hands in it." -Random kid

Hmmm, I'm not sure that's working out so well. So I show them how to use soap and the whole scrubbing technique and the pouring of water over the hands. Which they love! They love the smell of soap and the scrubbing is funny for some reason and the reaction of pouring water over their hands was similar to that of a child going to a water park. Absolutely amazing!! I'm hoping they like it so much they do it all of the time, the five important times (which are, before eating,  before preparing meals, after playing, after going to the bathroom, and when they look dirty- incase you were wondering.)

And my concluding question to at one of my hand washing programs; "when are you going to wash your hands next?" 

The amount of participation has sky rocketed and this makes me happy but then I hear many kids yell "tomorrow!"

And I think, well... That's not wrong, technically. 

We've got some work to do. 

***friend in country does similar program. Her funny story; 

"Who washed their hands today?"-volunteer

No one raises their hand.

"Okay, who washed their hands yesterday?"-volunteer 

No one raised their hand. 

Ha! 

Malnutrition in Madagascar

Since I wrote about me being "maventy", I'll write about malnutrition now, like any good health volunteer would do. 

These statistics were provided by Peace Corps which were taken from the World Bank Nutrition Profiles. 

Madagascar has the 5th highest rate of stunting in the world, tied with Malawi.

15 percent of infants are born with a low birth weight. 

53 percent of children under the age of five are stunted.

Under nutrition rates have stayed virtually constant in Madagascar over the past two decades.

Madagascar has higher rates of stunting than many of its neighboring countries and income peers in the Africa region. This shows that it is possible to achieve lower rates of under nutrition despite low per capita income. 

Under nutrition is not just a problem of poverty. Children are undernourished in almost one half of even the richest households. This is not typically an issue of food access, but of caring practices and disease.

Malnourishment increases the likelihood of falling sick and enhancing the severity of diseases. 

I am not educated in public health nor nutrition to an extent level but I have witnessed chronic malnutrition, acute malnutrition, over nutrition and an inadequate intake of micronutrients in the village I live in and the surrounding villages. 

The main dish of the Malagasy people is rice. White rice or red rice. They eat it three times a day, everyday. They typically make it with salt (as with all dishes-I imagine that is their main seasoning) or oil. Some families eat rice with "rô" which is a side dish, usually some sort of green vegetable that has been boiled or steamed (until no nutrients are left to consume) or pasta. Lots of times I see people eating pasta on top of rice. And then as a snack they have banana bread or cassava bread. Another snack is boiled sweet potatoes. Basically carbs on carbs on carbs, all day, everyday. 

An average family of 7 eats about 10 cups of rice everyday. An average cup of white rice is 400AR, the same amount as 4 carrots or 3 bananas or 6 tomatoes or 4 medium sized zucchini (in my region, in good growing season). 

So, I'm doing my best to push better eating habits and a balanced diet by attending baby weighing in each village in my commune. During the weighing we can see which children are undernourished by looking at their growth chart and arm circumference. I ask questions regarding the health of the child or children in the family and what meals are provided and when. This is also an opportunity to teach about proper breast feeding and weaning along with family planning. We brainstorm new snacks for the kids throughout the day, budgeting for nutritious foods at the market, and how to properly prepare and cook meals. 

A lot of these practices have to do with the individual and whether or not they want to change their daily routine or try new ways of cooking (taught by a white girl with no children) after many years of being taught the same thing. A lot of our work as Peace Corps Volunteers is working in behavior change and that can be tricky. But I'm determined to help my village raise their children to be strong and healthy by teaching, showing, sharing, and conversing new ways to provide a balanced diet. 

At a later date I will write about my new garden and my gardening club!