Damn spider

Today I talked to a spider the size of my hand. Not because I was bored, in fact I had places to be. But I thought that if I politely asked him to leave my house that he would take that path. When he didn't I cursed at him because I didn't have enough courage to kill him. 

But me talking to a spider the size of my hand inside my house eventually ended up with me talking myself into having the courage to kill him. (Referencing earlier posts, spiders and I are not living in harmony anymore.) I grabbed the broom, reached towards the ceiling and he came tumbling down. I smashed his guts on the floor then yelled or maybe I was yelling the whole time. But while I was taking a picture, I yelled again when I found out he wasn't dead yet, smashed more of his guts on the ground and then felt like passing out or throwing up.

Picture of said spider post first smashing. I know what you're all thinking how can he still be alive??

It's times like these that make me think I'm not cut out for living in Africa. 

But the worst part about all of that ^ is the one woman who I have been trying to gain respect from sees me doing a little creepy crawly jig after hearing me yell and asks what's happening? 

I say "bibikely anaty tranoko", which translates to "small animal inside my house". I forget the word for spider all of the time, so "small animal" will suffice, especially in this situation... 

She comes into my house. I show her where the damn dead spider is and she picks it up with her bare hand and throws it outside. She says "insert Gasy word for spider here/or maybe an insult directed towards me", and leaves my house in disgust. 

Good I'm living here for two years, because that's how long it's going to take me to be able to kill a spider with complete composure and how long it will take for me to gain this woman's respect. 

The rats, bats, and cats that live above me

The My house is one of the nicest in my community. I'm lucky to have concrete floors and a tin roof.

 But in between that tin roof and sturdy foundation are the animals that live with me, not by invitation. 

In between, I have burnt planks of wood that is considered a ceiling. We've fixed up the bigger holes so that human beings cant fit through them and somehow we thought that was good enough. I think most of us volunteers in ambonivolo (countryside) hear bats at night. It's not that big of a deal (sorry Marcelo). But when they live and fly and eat and socialize above you it gets to you after awhile. 

Rats are gross. They carry diseases. They can scale walls for gods sake and live above me. I'm not saying it's okay but they leave me alone, are fairly quiet and don't eat my food. I just have to sweep more frequently because of their bowel movements. 

It's the cats. Or cat. There's only one and it is the worst animal to ever live above me. It's loud, it gets into my stuff, it acts cute when it knows I'm annoyed, and it's not even my cat! But the worst part is that it doesn't do a damn thing about the rats or bats. I have sat and heard a rat playing around under my dresser and the cat sat there next to me, gazing up at me with a face that says what are you going to feed me today? 

And it comes and goes whenever he wants. And it's also frustrating that it's name is Mimi, all cats are named Mimi. Why? I don't know. 

If anyone were to ask me what is worse to have out of the three, it wouldn't be the bats, or the rats, I would say it's the cats or cat, hands down, no question about it. 

But we all live in harmony for now, the bats, rats, cat, snakes, scorpions, spiders, ants, and  anything else that can make their way in and out of my Malagasy house! 

Mimi taking a nap. 

Counting down the days until I get to use a laundry machine

My mom taught me how to use a laundry machine when I was 12 or 13 years, I think. Early enough for me to build a strong  relationship with them. I miss them. They are the most under appreciated invention, I think, on the planet. 

Of course I think that now, when I'm standing knee deep in rivers that I'm not supposed to be in because of some bacterial tiny creature thing that can get in through my skin and make me very ill ( so the doctors say...) washing my clothes, with my hands. 

But let's go back to home stay times when I washed clothes, by hand, for the first time in my life. 

Gathered my clothes, went to the river behind my house an stood there as my host mom and aunt showed me the routine and motion of washing clothes the Malagasy way (or the way of all people that don't own machines to help them). So they're 3 articles of clothes in within five minutes and I feel like I understand. I start. They stop me and show me all over again. Ya, ok, I got it! I start. They stop me. We try again until it's no use and I'm standing there watching again. Multiple this experience by three and that's home stay. 

What'd I learn? Keep your clothes clean, wear them as long as possible, and if I want to entertain or frustrate Malagasy women and children let them watch me wash my clothes.

Now, I'm gonna talk about the present. 

So, lucky me I live next to a huge river, I mean massive! It's name is Matitanana (which translates into "dead town", it's so big that it "kills" the towns closest to it each rainy season). So at first people told me to go under the bridge of another river, I listen because they tell me the water is clean and I feel like that's important for washing clothes. I head over around 10AM because then I don't have to walk with my basket full of clothes past hundreds of students heading in the same direction towards a school, and I figured many woman would be done washing their clothes because they insist on waking up at the break of dawn, or earlier. Well, that wasn't the case. I walked with my dirty clothes for about a mile to arrive at the bridge to find at least 7 women, 13 children and 3 babies all looking at me and cheering. I'll translate, they were cheering that the white girl does her own washing! More excitement was shown towards me washing my own clothes in the local river than the Malagasy showed at their own Independence Day party... Quite strange. But let's do this laundry washing in the river business. 

That time was better, I'm getting the hang of it, I think. 

So I repeat this until the water under the bridge becomes too dirty to wash there and me and everyone else need to relocate. So lucky for we go to the big river right in front of my house. It's quite fascinating how this one river is used. While I'm washing my clothes, there are people and goods being transported, women are bathing, omby (kind of like cows) drinking and pissing, children are playing, people are fishing and fetching water, all from the same source. So, on this note, the laundry topic has now turned into a major health issue for this community and all the other communities doing the exact same practices. 

This is dirty water, when people are washing themselves, brushing their teeth, and fetching water that they cook with next to animals walking in and pissing in the same source, we have a problem. And I for one, have no solution for people that have been doing it for years and years. My job is to educate people that they should drink clean water by filtering and bleaching it. Using these practices to clean water to not only drink but clean themselves and their clothes, to improve their hygiene habits and life style to create a healthier way of living. So I'm thinking all of this while women and children are washing their clothes and I standing right beside them doing the same. 

me,

Matitanana

Living with the Mosasy Family

This blog post is about home stay and a little about training. Also, about the time I found my deep hatred for mosquitoes and geese, the time I found a new fear of the dark and of witches, and the time I found a new appreciation for running water and toilets (especially located indoors).

A few words about language training; it's never ending.
A few more words about the Malagasy language in general; it isn't easy, most verbs begin with "M" and have at least three syllables. Example: Mitsangatsangana means to take a stroll/wander around. Also, the letters C, Q, U, W and X do no exist in the Malagasy language. A lot of words are derived from the French language or are very similar to the French words for things. Malagasy only use French numbers when it comes to prices, dates, phone numbers and almost every other time you use numbers except for the time, which can be confusing, being that I am not mahay (knowledgeable) at French numbers, nor any French whatsoever. But the language is sing songy and very beautiful.We had language class 4 hours a day during PST (Pre Service Training).
A breakdown of our daily PST routine; woke up around 4:45 on most days because that's what the family was used to, and roosters are loud whenever and not just when the sun comes up, ate breakfast and headed to language lessons at 8AM, at noon headed back to host family and ate lunch with them and tried to utilize the language we learned in the previous hours, at 2PM headed to the local commune and were taught either about the Malagasy culture or technical skills for our sector, in my case, health skills. Then at 5PM ish headed back to host family and helped cook dinner, tried to communicate, ate and went to bed immediately after eating. *** Fear of the dark bit.***Little to no electricity means no street lamps, meaning you can't see even three feet in front of your face. It being a foreign country, in the countryside with no light when the sunsets translates into a very quiet and scary place. And to add to it, some Malagasy believe in witches. These witches are real people who allegedly roam around the countryside at night, wreck havoc and leave poop on your doorstep. Conclusion, get me inside, I now have a fear of the dark and anything that lurks around in it.

My family in our kitchen.

But throw a few snack breaks in there and maybe a shower once or twice a week (** no running water, bucket showers require time and energy to heat water on an open flame) add some soccer games, mitsangatsangana-ing on the weekends, dodging angry geese on the roads (evil, evil, evil animals that have something against all human beings), resisting the temptation to scratch mosquito bites, and some clothes washing in the river (** again with the no running water situation) and that's home stay in a nut shell.

The river I washed my clothes in.

Fandrisana hanging out the window.

My family was wonderful though!  My dad was said to be a priest, not the case however, because we/they never went to church nor work. My mom was very young and took care of my host brother, 2 year old, Mosasy, and my host aunt was a seamstress. The dog's name was Pito, he was the loudest dog on the block, hands down. We also had some other family live with us for a while, who were equally as welcoming and were equally as entertained by my poor language abilities and my American loudness and enthusiasm.In the 6 months I have been in Madagascar, I say with full confidence that the Malagasy people are some of the nicest people I have ever met.

My little brother showing me where his ears were.

Mosasy, Pito, and Bebe.

Gift packages!!

Hello!! First off let me thank everyone who has already sent me packages and letters! I love receiving them no matter what's inside or how lengthy the letter is, (it feels like Christmas or my birthday each time- seriously though)!

Many people have been messaging me about what they can send me or what I need so I figured it'd be a good idea to have a post about it (and other PCVs did this too). 

Some advice to keep it inexpensive; try sending it through USPS flat rate boxes, do NOT use DHL!! 

Address:

BP 217  

 309 Farafangana

 Madagascar

Things: 

Photos (help me remember what you look like)

Wet wipes

Hand sanitizer

Candy!!! (Any type)

Drink packets (coffee, tea, juice)

Oreos

Oatmeal packets

Candles (remember no electricity)

Scotch tape

For the kiddos:

Stickers

Coloring books

Markers

Construction paper

Pencils and pens for school

Beads

Hot Wheels

Marbles

Balls (love soccer balls) 

Glow sticks 

Anything from the dollar store really

***please no loud toys, they manage to break everything BUT loud noise makers and I have to suffer, along with adults and animals, basically everyone's ears bleed but the children's. 

Staging, traveling, and arriving in MCAR

During Peace Corps staging is just all of us folk gathering in a hotel in Washington DC to get paperwork signed and to actually see who shows up to get on the plane the next day..For the March 2013 stage, there were 37 of us that arrived at the hotel for staging. There was paperwork, ice breakers, awkward moments, and ticket stubs distributed for free alcoholic (or nonalcoholic) beverages.We received our Peace Corps passports, and some of us went to see the White House. We also met people who were about to depart to serve in Senegal and Dominican Republic, kind of cool but also a cluster cuss as well with that many people in one hotel going to three different countries. An idea of what it was like, I'd see a person carrying multiple bags and has been crying and approach them, "Hi! Are you in Peace Corps?... ME TOO!... Oh, you're not going to Madagascar?... Okay, have fun, bye!" This happened over and over again until we were all separated into our designated countries. 

Proud owner of two passports.

Then, all 37 of us got on a plane to Senegal (but not with the other group of people that were going there to serve). The flight was something like 10 hours or so. Landed there for about an hour, didn't actually get off the plane and then flew another 7 hours or so to Johannesburg, South Africa. Within these 18 hours or so, many of the 37 consumed multiple alcoholic beverages, enough said. We stayed the night in a hotel five minutes from the airport only to get back on a plane 12 hours later. The flight to Madagascar from Johannesburg is 3 hours, and thank goodness for  that because the plane was tiny and we were all pretty sick of being in the air.  

I'm speaking for myself, seeing my new home from the plane was very exciting! 

Upon arrival in Madagascar International Airport, we were immediately sweating and approached by a woman asking for our passports. We didn't ask any questions and handed them over (we didn't see our passports again for another 3-4 weeks...) Then we were greeted by three Peace Corps Volunteers, got a sweaty group picture taken, and as we joke, met with someone who said, "here, take this pink pill and get in my white van." Which didn't necessarily happen in that order but I'm summarizing here. We divided into groups, got into six white SUVs and drove for what seemed like eternity (to Peace Corps Training Center in Mantasoa) on the worst road I want to say I've ever rode on. I got shot gun and no one threw up though. Antananarivo is ridiculously populated (blog to be posted later specifically on the capital of Madagascar and then another blog post on the roads in this country, stay tuned). 

Leaving  the capital and entering the countryside.

We arrive at PCTC to find that it is a surprisingly large compound with about 20 buildings located on a huge lake, Lake Mantasoa. We are greeted by many Malagasy people, which we later find out are our language and culture trainers and the rest of the Peace Corps Madagascar staff. We find roommates, get situated in our rooms and are told breakfast is served at 7AM and language classes begin after eating. Oh, and we go to our host families two days later. Most of us are too tired to freak out, but that came after a good nights rest under our mosquito nets.

6 months in country and finally posting for the first time

First off, let me apologize to anyone (the very few people) back home who have been waiting for me to post pictures and blog posts about my adventures over here in Madagascar, or as I'm calling it these days, MCAR for short.
So, with that said, I'm going to do my best to catch everyone up to date in under five posts (ish) and then hopefully post frequently, being that every day is an adventure in this country.

For those of you who don't know, I won the Peace Corps lottery when I was posted to serve in Madagascar. I graduated with a Journalism degree (I focused in photography, keep in mind while reading my blog) from The University of Montana in December 2012 and in March 2013 departed for MCAR to train and serve as a volunteer health educator (a later post to explain what the weight of that title means). 

Hiking near Ankazobe.