Brendan's Mad. Adventure

The End: And you may ask yourself-well...how did I get here?

2009-04-03T08:05:00.000-07:00

I never went looking for 'service,' one could argue that 'service' found me. It all started with a visit from my older brother during my senior year in college. Over a piece of pizza we discussed my anxiety around the decisions I needed to make over the next month as graduation was approaching. My brother, who just returned from a vacation at a National Park, suggested that I explore a Conservation Corps as a potential path (the Utah Conservation Corps to be exact). This suggestion sparked some curiosity and I hit the web, eventually ending-up at the website “cooljobs.com” and stumbling across an AmeriCorps program in Alaska. I emailed paperwork, had a phone interview, got a flight as a graduation gift, and three weeks later I was in Alaska. Alaska was defiantly challenging, but also eye-opening. It not only gave me an opportunity for pause, but also broadened my perspective by exposing me the many ways I could 'serve' a community, ways I could stand-up for what I believed-in, and ultimately to quote Gandhi a way to “be the change [I] wanted to see in the world.” I found the challenges in Alaska to be rewarding but it left me wanting more. So...I signed up for an AmeriCorpsVISTA program in Philadelphia working with the United Way and as part of a national 'service' movement around Martin Luther King Jr. Two months on the job I decided to turn in my application for Peace Corps.

If you told me I was going to be a Peace Corps Volunteer when I graduated college I would have called you crazy. I always thought of Peace Corps Volunteers as a higher 'caliber,' a club I never felt worthy of membership. A two year commitment, the need to learn another language, the cultural adjustment, the potential of getting some exotic disease...the whole thing was always a little crazy to me.

Yet, here I am. An RPCV with an experience thats mine and mine alone. An experience that may take a lifetime to fully understand the depth and breath of its rewards.

This blog has far exceeded any expectations I had for it. When created, I thought it would just be used as an easy way to post messages about me, saving time and money in slow and overcrowded internet cafes. Yet through this selfishness something unselfish managed to blossom. This blog was not only my outlet for frustration and a why for me to process my whole experience, but also a way to bring home and share Malagasy culture with family and friends.

I wasn't a GREAT Peace Corps volunteer, but I can say with confidence that I did my job. This has become apparent this past week through many encounters, and I'm sure it will only continue to reveal itself as time passes. This past week alone it has revealed itself in the frustration in my mothers voice when she couldn't find recent news on the political crisis. It was obvious when my Sister-in-law referred to people from my village by name, people she has never met. It was also revealed in the curiosity of grandparents who asked pointed and insightful cultural questions about life, the Malagasy people, and my stories.

I'm no superman, I just decided to do something when it comes to the things I care about. Anyone can serve... Maybe that is my first lesson out of all this, you don't need to be of any particular 'caliber' to serve. I think Martin Luther King Jr. said it best.

“If you want to be important wonderful! If you want to be recognized wonderful! If you want to be GREAT wonderful! But recognize that 'he who is greatest among you shall be his servant.' That's the new definition of GREATNESS. By giving that definition of GREATNESS it means that everyone can be GREAT, because everybody can SERVE. You don't have to have a college degree to serve. You don't have to have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve. You don't have to know about Plato and Aristotle to serve. You don't have to know Einstein's "Theory of Relativity" to serve. You don't have to know the Second Theory of Thermal Dynamics in Physics to serve. You only need a heart full of grace, a soul generated by love, and you can be that servant."
Excerpted from "The Drum Major Instinct", a sermon by Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., 1968

In closing, Thank you to everyone who continued to follow-me throughout this crazy little journey. Thank you for the packages, the mail, the kind comments and warm emails. One is only as strong as their 'team,' and I had one heck of a support 'team.' I'm not only blessed, but grateful!

Thank you!

I [heart] JoBurg

2009-03-31T08:29:00.000-07:00

We Flew in Tuesday Night
SURPRISE!—a transitional conference

It’s the last thing a PCV wants to experience and it only happens when a PC program gets ‘suspended’ or ‘closed.’

When we walked into the Tuesday night welcome meeting we are told that we will all be ‘closing’ our service as Peace Corps Volunteers in Madagascar and that we’ll need to be making some decisions over the next 3 days. We are given a packet of paper work (health and administrative forms) and instructed on what ‘adjustment/next step’ sessions we will need to attend. A team of Peace Corps doctors take the floor instructing us that we need to give three stool samples and give some tips on proper collection. We are told that we need get blood work and a TB test done as soon as possible. Our minds spinning, some have walked-out in tears. I still distracted by the orange juice, the carpet under my feet, and the window less carpet walled room I am sitting in.

We are told one more time for clarity. “Everyone is closing their service with Peace Corps Madagascar. You will need to make decisions over the next few days; you will need to have a plan.”

I put my orange juice down as a chill cuts through me

------Welcome to Johannesburg, South Africa-----
(A place with a much different feel 14 months ago)

The King-Kong of Culture Shock
I imagine it’s natural to experience a little culture shock going from Madagascar to South Africa. On my flight in I was blown away by the boxed lunch of individually wrapped food items—85% of which was sugar (either whipped, baked, or jelled). On the flight we flew over homes with swimming pools, high-ways, a golf course, and a water park. But this was nothing compared to where I went after our Tuesday night ‘welcome meeting.’

It was St. Patrick’s Day and our Hotel had an Irish Pub. The pub was packed with people—Peace Corps Volunteers, tourists, locals. It was ten seconds before a friend handed me a green beer. I was greeted and being wished a ‘Happy St. Patick’s Day’ by Peace Corps friends I haven’t seen in nine months, all while standing in a bar that could have been in any small American college town. ….It quickly sunk in that I wasn’t in Madagascar anymore….

Decision Time
Peace Corps provided us with options. Re-instate, re-enroll or direct transfer. Re-instate does not happen until the program in Madagascar re-opens. At which point PC will contact you and ask if you are interested in serving in Madagascar again. It doesn’t mean it will happen and it doesn’t mean that you will go back to your site (in fact it’s rare), you also don’t know when it will happen (2 months, 6 months, a year). Re-enrollment is like starting all over—a new country, new training, new site, another two year commitment. Direct transfer was the ability to transfer your service to another country and finish out your term there. Direct Transfer was my only real option and I was eager to put my name in for it—mainly to see what was being offered. Direct Transfer is difficult to get (‘the stars need to align’). Medical requirements are different for each country, spots are limited, and many have language requirements (Malagasy not being one of them). After reading over my options I put my name down for two programs (the only two that didn’t require a language). After a sleepless night and hours and continual self-questioning, that next morning I told the conference facilitator that I wanted my name removed, I was pursuing direct transfer for the wrong reasons—I was looking for closure and I wasn’t going to find it.

When I was serving with AmeriCorps in Alaska (before Peace Corps) I had the opportunity to site-in on a Native American tribal discussion on land ownership and oil exploration. When the meeting finished, the audience could ask questions to the panel of elders. I don’t remember any of the questions asked, but I vividly remember a response that was given. Old, frail, and eyes shaded by his long thinning gray hair, an elder stood up to respond. “My father never understood why the white man asks so many questions.” He said in a raspy voice. “The white man is always seeking answers to the questions that he already has answers for. You know the answer, it’s just not an answer you like, so you continually search for a new one.’’

My God…Is She Crazy?
We loved to joke about the women who facilitated our staging (two days spent in D.C. before flying to Madagascar). She was informative but very opinionated, pushy, and a bit over zealous. Staging was our first bonding experience and as an outcome she would become a person we would refer to throughout our pre-service training. It was a way to bring a laugh and a smile during stressful times.

Our last day at Staging she read us a story about sunglasses. I don’t remember the details, but the point was simple. You see the world through a certain shade of sunglasses, but through your Peace Corps experience you learn to see the world through an entirely different shade. When your experience is finally finished and you return home, both shades (the pre-existing and the newly acquired) blend together to form a shade that is new and unique.

“What!” a friend said to me during a break around the Holiday Inn water cooler during staging.
“Did that even make sense?” Another friend joined in on the conversation
“Red and yellow don’t make green,” a buddy added “It’s not possible.”
We all had a good laugh!

As I wait in Heathrow airport for my connecting flight. I’m sitting in an airport terminal that resembles more of a shopping mall. The man in the business suite on my right is pounding away on a keyboard. On my left is a women filing her nails and her perfume aroma is starting to make me a bit nauseous. On the bench in-front of me is a man in a kilt who has now passed-out after too many drinks from the pub directly behind me.

Boy…I don’t know what color I am seeing, but it is defiantly different.

The Cheetah Inn
Before heading home to the U.S. of A. I did get to go on a South African excursion through Krugar National Park. It was a good trip minus the fever on day four. We did get to see four out the BIG five (water buffalo, leopard, lion, elephant). Unfortunately, we never spotted the (apparently rather elusive) rhino.

I would like to share this memory from the charming Cheetah Inn

We arrive late at night, jumping out of the back of the safari trucks. It was a long ride from JoBurg to Krugar and although we just went on a sixty minute ‘sunset’ drive and spotted zebra, impala, and giraffe. Many of us can only think about food and a warm bed. A woman greets us with the keys to our rooms and tells us to hurry back because dinner is waiting.

The charming Cheetah Inn, although in the middle of ‘nowhere’ is well maintained—it has a swimming pool, nine hole mini golf course, a large Cheetah fountain (think high school papier-mâché project) and well trimmed gardens. All surrounded by an electric fence for our protection, which keeps out large dangerous predators. Even with all this ‘charm’ the hotel does feel a bit eerie—the buildings are all painted the same tacky light pink and the lobby floors are carpeted with green astrocarpet. It also doesn’t help that we are the only guests staying at the Cheetah Inn (that night).

We gathered by the fire outside, where dinner was waiting. A soft spoken woman of short stature wearing a very flashy cheetah print blouse greeted us all and began to review our itinerary for the next day.
When she finishes a friend asks “what is your name?”
“Pearl” she says softly, “Pearl, like diamonds and pearls.”

Pearl served me some soup and after a few spoonfuls I immediately begin to feel better.
“This place feels surreal.” I say to Chris who is seated next to me. “I feel like I’m at grandma’s house.”

Pearl sits across from me and begins sipping her soup from a spoon. Feeling a need to break the awkward silence, I start to think of a question to ask her, but she beats me to it.
“I had a very sad day today” she says in a soft single monotone voice while staring down at her spoon and bowl.
Startled, awkward, and feeling a bit obligated, I follow her socially awkward comment with a question.
“Oh… Why is that?” I ask.
“I went to a funeral today, my closest friend died” she says, finally breaking eye contact with her spoon to briefly glance up at me.
“It was a wonderful little funeral, they spread the ashes at a beautiful little park near by” she puts her spoon down and begins to slowly fold the napkin placed in-front of her.
“God” I respond “I’m really sorry to hear that Pearl, I’m sorry for your loss.” I try to show some sympathy.
To be spared from any more awkwardness, I excuse myself, grab my plate and walk to the women serving food.
Chase is already waiting in line.
“Wow, this looks great!” he tells the kitchen staff as they serve him some meat.
“Yea, it sure does” I say with a smile
As I wait in line I can hear Pearl’s voice from the other side of the room. “I was in-love once,” she says to a group of people at the table “he was the man of my dreams..”
Over my shoulder Pearl is still seated, but now slowly unfolding the napkin she just folded moments ago. As the women dishes me out some salad. Chase turns to return back to the table.
He stops in transit and whispers in my ear. “Dude, I have seen a lot of horror movies that start this way. No lie, half of us will be dead by morning.”

It was enough to make me think about the electric fence—is it really for our protection?

…and for all that Sainte Luce, I am sorry!

2009-03-12T22:30:00.000-07:00

‘Decision made to suspend PC Madagascar. Very sad. Process of leaving will be lengthy. Prepare tonight for consolidation and onward as flights are confirmed. STAY IN SITE. For now we must be able to find you!’

I read the text message last night as I was eating one my favorite loaka (side dishes) in Madagascar. As you can imagine my food quickly became tasteless.

As I tossed and turned all night, I continually had to reread the message on my phone…check that I didn’t dream it, make sure I understood it, the ‘reality’ of the situation was slowly creeping in.

I can’t say I have many regrets in my shortly lived life. Maybe I wish I played a particular sport, had the courage to ask out a particular girl, or wish that at times I pursued a particular path. But the decision that was made for me only a few hours ago will haunt me for the unforeseeable future. Here’s why…

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly: The Peace Corps Experience

The Good—I think I do a good job summing up all the ‘good’ under my last post and throughout this blog. The ‘good’ is found in the lives you touch, the smiles you bring, and the relationships you build. It’s an indescribable experience, a bond that is shared with only other PC volunteers who are serving or have served, an experience that could never be captured in just a few words.

The Bad—I have also touched on throughout this blog. It’s the homesickness, the heat, the rain, the mold, the food (or lack of), the rats, the infections and persistent infections, and the leaky roofs. It’s the ‘labels’ you are given, the stereotypes you try desperately to break, and the harassment you endure.

We all know that we need the ‘bad.’ It compliments the ‘good.’ Without the ‘Bad,’ the ‘Good’ would never be as sweet, beautiful, or nearly as rewarding.

The Ugly—the ‘Ugly’ I hate. One joins Peace Corps naively overlooking it. I joined Peace Corps knowing I was in for a marathon. I endured training—pushing my comfort level beyond its limits. I knew this course was going to be hard, uncomfortable, and at times brutally unbearable. But nothing is worse than falling short of an overarching goal—crossing the finish line. To stop in the middle of a race and forced to walk off the course…it’s the feelings of defeat, humiliation, and failure all entwined.

The Bitterness of this Experience
Thoughts of my experience here in Madagascar will forever be sweet—this was a life enriching experience. But that sweetness will also be associated with a sharp bitterness. My community took me in as a ‘student,’ they shared their culture, beliefs, hopes, and fears. We laughed together, grieved together. We experienced the cold and the heat, times of plenty and moments of scarcity. They provided me with so much and in the end I feel I have done little to return the favor. This is a common feeling, so I have been told. Returned PC volunteers would agree— all volunteers get more out of their experience than they could ever have given in return. But my sharp bitterness isn’t just that. It’s rooted in the ‘if only…’ and the ‘what if…’ Because I have been forced off the course prematurely, I will never know my full potential as a Peace Corps Volunteer—it’s been taken. I will never know what obstacles I might have faced or what challenges I may have needed to be overcome. Ultimately, I will also never know the potential of my impact. What I could have built on—the relationships I worked so hard build and the trust I managed to create. All those lives I could have touched.

…and for all that Sainte Luce, I am sorry!

Welcome to Town with a Smile

2009-03-09T03:45:00.000-07:00

It’s nice to leave site and return to town armed with a list of things to do (sounds crazy…but its as it should be). Usually when I go to town it’s an orchestrated event, but you still feel like you only accomplish half of the planned ‘to do’ list you bring with you.

I got a call last week asking if I wanted to have dinner with the US Ambassador who was coming to the Ft. Dauphin area and was hoping to dine with some PCVs on Tuesday night. The sad part is (although expected / we are still experience some political ‘turbulence’) the ambassador had to cancel, but a group of representatives from the US Embassy are still coming down and they will still be taking us out to eat as planned, which is great! We are going to dined and (maybe) wined at the nicest restaurant in town!

…So I got that going for me…

As for the current political ‘turbulence.’ Marc R. (the President) has called for an end on all anti-‘his’government rallies and has started enforcing police blockades around Tana. I’ve also heard some talk about a Military commander who has stayed ‘neutral’ thus far (not excepting bribes and not picking a side) was ‘forcefully’ replaced by the President. Whether it is true and what it would mean remains unknown.

Anyway, negations looked promising for a while, but fell apart two weeks ago. The opposition looked like they were loosing steam, but periodically regain momentum. It’s a complicated struggle for power—and when I think I get a handle on what is going on, I get thrown a loop. So, I’ve partly given up.

Life in Sainte Luce is NORMAL. You wouldn’t even know anything is going on—apart from the slight increase on some commodity goods. Overall people in Sainte Luce, for the most part, don’t care.
Remember that Madagascar is a large island (the width of the state of Pennsylvania and the length of New York City to Miami) Everything that’s going on is taking place in and around Tana (i.e. North Carolina) and Ft. Dauphin (i.e. Florida) remains calm. We are all still on ‘Standfast,’ which means daily communication with Peace Corps Staff.

Enjoy!
From a still VERY safe part of the island
Brendan

1/22/09
It’s nice to be missed…

I think it was clear to a lot of people that I almost left. ‘‘You don’t know what you got till its gone’’ and it is applicable on both ends here. To be almost robbed of this experience has forever changed my outlook of it and I think has also rekindled community interest in what I’m doing here and who I am. I have been approached about seeds, tress, gardening advice all over the last day or two. I’ve replanted 15 Moringa trees near the Elementary school with a friend who was eager to help, all while spending the majority of my time away from St. Luce and working with the community north of me helping to plant 24,000 trees.

I’m writing this because I have hit a transition point in my service. Finished and through is the ‘cultural’ adjustment and awkwardness. I can finally turn the page on ‘survival’ mode and focus on the ‘improval’ part of my stay. This is my opportunity to make small fundamental changes in individual lives. I have been in country about a year now. That’s one year spent out of my comfort zone and a whole year away from family and friends. I’m not sure what this next year will bring. I do know its not going to be an easy ride, but committed and determined I am. I have started something here and I intend to finish it. The second leg of this journey beings today and I’ll start by going to church (its Sunday) and greet people with my usual smile and cheer. I am a firm believer that bringing a smile to a face is development!

Undated
Not bad.

‘‘Not a bad way to start your day..huh..Brendan?’’
‘What’s that?’’ I ask as I take off my bike helmet.
‘Biking on a dirt road in the middle of Madagascar’’
‘Hah..Yea, I cant complain.’’ I reply with a grin.

It’s easy to get lost out here. To forget about where you are and what you are doing at any given moment. We all do it…and I find myself slowly slipping back into the old habit I tried to leave behind in the States.
Every night as I cook dinner I have the luxury of watching the sun fall behind the mountains that hug the south-eastern cost of Madagascar. Sometimes as the sun sets the sky becomes illuminated with every shade of pink, red, and orange imaginable. It’s an amazing way to close out a day.
Recently I have had the pleasure of waking up before the sun and hoping on my bike and riding 8k to the area my NGO and the local community are planting trees. I get to watch as the sun creeps above the horizon and burns off the morning dew. It’s also an amazing way to start the day.

That’s right my friend…this shit is hard, no doubt, but honestly I am in no position to complain.

1/24/09
Happy ‘I have been in Madagascar for a whole year’ day!
One word… ‘‘crazy’’
1/26/09
Come and knock on my door…

I heard the knock on the door while cutting up the squash I picked form my garden (squash and a watermelon are all I’ve been able to grow in the last few hot dry months). The knock was followed by a question and I immediately knew the voice. It was Ben Ombie (chief of the village) and he wanted me to follow him with by camera, while pointing in the direction of ‘downtown’ Ambaondrika. I say sure, grab my things and briskly walk with him down the road and into a crowd of gathering people. At first I thought he wanted me to take his picture, but the site of the crowd made me a bit confused. ‘Maybe he wants me to take a picture of everyone’ I thought to myself. As we approached the crowd parted and it all suddenly became clear.

At the feet of the awaiting crowd laying on some banana leaves was the carcass of tow conjoined baby calves—two heads, two sets of front legs all sharing a single torso and two hind legs.

The crowd was continually scanning my face trying to read my reaction. I was continually scanning the faces of the crowd trying to read their reaction. Not knowing what to say, I paused and let the situation soak in. No one seemed frightened or scared, which I can only assume is good—this isn’t viewed as some kind of horrible omen.

‘‘Wow!’’ I said in gasy, ‘‘that’s a surprise.’’

I examine it for a few minutes.
After which I snapping two pictures (one with Ben Ombie), I turned to the guy next to me and asked (jokingly) if he was gonna eat it. He smiled and took a few steps backwards with his hands in the air saying ‘‘No, No, No.’’ We both smiled and everyone laughed.

I thought for a brief moment about picking up a stick and drawling pictures in the sand to explain how this type of thing happens. But, I quickly remembered the last time I tried to explain something through illustration (on the topic of ‘what my dad does for a living,’ which quickly morphed into the topic of ‘specialization.’) it did more harm than good—causing mass confusion. So, I let this opportunity for a lesson in human reproduction and anatomy pass me by.

As for the picture…as word got out that I took it people have been asking to buy a copy. That’s right! BUY a copy…slowly we are working away from a mentality of ‘give me,’ to one of ‘show me, teach me, and sell me.’

Undated
Two Moments…

‘Brendan!’
I hear the cry from outside my house. I recognized the sound of the voice immediately.
‘E!’ I yelled. I dropped my notebook on the floor and peeked out the doorway of my house.
‘I haven’t seen you in a long time!’ I shout from the door.
‘Where have you been!’ he replies with a smile.
I walk outside and shake his hand with a smile that had to rival his. He puts his hand on my shoulder.
‘Salama!’ another voice cries out form the road.
Oh..What’s new!’ I yell back with equal excitement as we both walk towards the road.
All three of us chatted a few minutes; I explained where I have been and gave both men some water, all while sporting a big smile the whole time.

I don’t need to write anymore…I think I captured it…
This is what Peace Corps is all about… Bridging two very different worlds.

I spot Seringoty as he walks home from work. (he’s a guard for the Rio Tinto research camp).
‘Going home?’ I ask.
‘How are you?’ he replies ‘I haven’t seen you in awhile.’
‘All is good!’ I reply. ‘Its going to rain!’ I point to the dark clouds in the horizon. ‘We need it, its hasn’t rained in awhile, its good for the cassava, the garden, and all the trees.’
‘But your house leaks’ he replies with a smirk as he points to my roof and continues to walk by.
Damn…he’s right!

I wrote this awhile ago and never posted it:
I think its appropriate keeping with the ‘smile’ theme
1/28/09
‘‘Yes, We Can’’

‘‘What do you do in St. Luce?’’ I was recently asked by a tourist.
‘‘I live here,’’ I replied.
‘‘and do..?’’

I once heard a story of a PCV who worked as an environment volunteer in southern Madagascar and was asked a similar question. The volunteer didn’t respond. He simply smiled, turned to the Malagasy boy next to him and slowly extended his clenched fist out in front of him. The boy responded by doing the same and as their fists met; it brought a smile on his face that stretched from ear to ear. The volunteer didn’t say a word; he didn’t need to, because the smile he created said it all.
A lot of volunteers are self-conscious about their work, and I am defiantly among them. As a volunteer you are continually frustrated, you often feel like you are doing nothing, or working hard and producing little if any tangible result. Personally, I am not sure if I will ever be completely comfortable answering the above question. But over the past few weeks it has been made clear what a big part of my job here is and I’d like to share it.

I am providing the people of my community with what I have had throughout my brief life. Whenever I thought I couldn’t, I always had someone telling me that I could. It’s called encouragement!

I am a motivator, a cheerleader, a generator of laughter and smiles (a clown? Is there a better word?). You could say I am the Barrak Obama of my community. I tell people that they ‘can.’ ‘‘Yes, you can’’ and ‘‘yes, we can’’ are words I find myself continually saying. I might teach someone about how to make a cook stove, how to plant a tree, how to grow a new variety of vegetable, or about the nutritional value found in Moringa leaves, but it is never without instilling a little bit of ‘hope’ through encouragement in people. This is done by continually reminding them that they are the ones building the stove, planting the tree, and growing the vegetable. Maybe that’s why I have trouble answering the question above, I never see myself as part of the equation. My advice to other volunteers…get your pom-poms out! I don’t leave home without mine.

Photos!

2009-02-15T23:53:00.001-08:00

Thank you Jake for turning these photos into Jpegs.

Vacation! A little coffee or beer (depends on the time of day this was taken)

Being a good PCV and learning about rice farming during IST (I live in a fishing village down by the sea, unfortunatly rice doesnt grow all that well)
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Look at the good looking guy! Sosony and his wife Delna showing off the new TV and sound system (I think I posted about this early on)
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Center is my good friend Kolasy and on his left is Fabrees (both took me fishing)

The day I became a volunteer and blue was the 'in' color

My Banking Family

Friends and village workers of the World Food Progam. They cook for kids every day of the week. Nice Hat!

Bruce Lee...oh boy..Watch out!

Roller Coaster Ride

2009-02-15T23:34:00.000-08:00

‘Be packed and ready to go, you should be out of here by Saturday.’ This was what we were all told this time last week, but as the week unfolded and the violence that everyone expected to happen never did (with the exception of a Police shooting in Tulear over food aid) we could all get to go back to our sites.

We have all been told that if today is ‘uneventful’ we can be released from ‘consolidation’ and return to our sites under ‘stand fast’ (or alert) which means we would need to be in contact with a PCO daily. Regions that have experienced violence will have individual sites assessed by Peace Corps to determine safety and security.

This has been one crazy roller coaster ride; it’s hard to be mentally ready for any eventual outcome. Stress levels are high; the mind is continually turning working out possible outcomes. We arrived two weeks ago—at first we dismissed our gathering as Peace Corps being overly cautious (life was normal down here and continues to be). Then we saw the damage from the riots. Buildings looted, burned, and the charred bodies of looters from a store that caught fire. We saw pictures of the demonstrations that were taking place and knew this was not going to be resolved quickly. We were told that Peace Corps couldn’t keep us consolidated forever—we thought we would go home. But the first week seemed to be calm and the gatherings by the opposition became smaller—we thought we would be back at site by the end of the h Saturday took a tragic turn, demonstrators marched to the Presidential Palace and the Presidential Guard opened fire on the crowd killing many (number killed changes depending the source and many are still missing, Amnesty International is calling for an investigation)—we all thought we would be out by Tuesday. Tuesday was suppose to be the installation of the ‘traditional’ government, the opposition leader and his appointed Ministers were going to take power from the President. But Tuesday came and went, with peaceful demonstrations. We waited for two days with little news. Finally Peace Corps told us that Saturday was the day. Depending how Saturday would unfold would determine our future here in Madagascar. But Saturday also was uneventful—two rival demonstrations only a half mile apart, both peaceful. The twists, the turns, and the continual stress of ‘unknowing’ has caused some volunteers to leave or finish service early. Many of us had to say ‘goodbye’ to PCV friends over the past two weeks.

Today is Monday—some say today will be ‘the day’ the opposition installs self-appointed Ministers in offices around Tana (the capitol), others think the opposition has lost its ‘power’ and the movement is slowly fizzling out.
As always we don’t know what the future will bring….

What is known….the damage has already been done! Foreign investment will suffer; the degree of which is still unknown. Goods are slowly rising in price, sugar is becoming scarce in Ft. Dauphin, and the price of oil and rice has gone up as well. Tourism is likely to suffer—travel warnings have been posted by the English and the French (Americans as well, but the American tourism market here is small). This is also happening at a ‘bad’ time of year—not that there is ever a ‘good’ time for a political crisis. But southern Madagascar is currently suffering from a drought and Madagascar has been continually getting hit by Cyclones, 3 in the last 2 months, which destroy homes and ruin crops. Here is an excerpt from the UN’s most recent Situation Report which highlighted serious future concerns.
From that report:

"The continuing political crisis is likely to compound the fight for daily survival of the two thirds of the Malagasy population living in poverty, risking pushing many even further over the edge. As the crisis spreads into other major cities and towns of the country, it is expected to generate equal humanitarian challenges.
The UN Country Team is not only concerned about the immediate humanitarian impact, but also that Madagascar is likely to find itself with weakened capacity to respond to a number of humanitarian challenges, either current or lying ahead, including the cyclones, floods and drought, to which the country is excessively prone"

It is apparent we are all needed here more than ever…

What is also apparent— this is far from being over…if we do return to sites I wouldn’t be surprised if I find myself in this situation again before the end of my service (I have a year left)—People here seem to be fed-up or at least the people I speak with.

That’s all for now and I hope my next post will be a month from now reporting on my struggles and triumphs with Malagasy culture, the world of development, my Moringa campaign and the Cook Stoves project.

I continue to be VERY safe (if I wasn’t I wouldn’t be here), thank you for all the thoughts and prayers!

Cheers!

‘Fluid’

2009-02-12T04:28:00.000-08:00

Our situation here is very ‘fluid.’ If you talked to me on Tuesday, I would have put money down on the fact that we would be leaving. But Tuesday (the day Andry was going to march around Tana and put his self-appointed ministers in office came and went). Yesterday (Wednesday) came and went with no issues. 25,000 people (or more depending on the source) gathered at a stadium peacefully in Tana to show support for the President (…or democracy).

For the most part, people here are sick of the President—but they also don’t want any more violence. As a ‘cryptic’ message stated from Peace Corps a week ago ‘Things continue to be fluid.’ Steve the Peace Corps Director of Madagascar summed up the situation here well when speaking with my NGO. Each day is like placing every good and bad scenario on a wheel and giving it a good spin, we don’t know what will happen or what each day will bring. We can only be prepared for the worst.

With that said, we have been told that we cannot be ‘consolidated’ forever, which means Saturday is our ‘trigger’ day. If things remain calm, we could realistically go back to site and stay ‘on alert,’ but if things get remotely ‘ugly,’ we would be pulled out and the program here in Madagascar would become suspended.

Of course I wouldn’t say it’s definite that I will still be here next week (things after all are ‘fluid’), but the only reason why I am still writing this post in Madagascar is because it’s still very much a possibility.

Just a little information on my state of mind:

Manahira walked down the street and greeted me with a smile. I’ve been held up in the hotel now for two weeks. My interaction with him brings mixed feelings. He tells me about his Moringa Tree—explaining how fast it’s been growing. We chat about how he hasn’t been able to teach the last week because of the ‘crisis’ (he’s the elementary school Teacher in Amboandrika and schools have been suspended). I ask about the condition of the sea in St. Luce, he reports that it’s been rough—no fish (we just had a cyclone) and the price of rice and cassava (the two food stables) have gone up dramatically. I tell him a little about my situation and encourage him to start adding the leaves of his Moringa tree to his side dishes (for nutrional value). I hope for the best by saying that I’ll see him again on Saturday in St. Luce, we shake hands and part-ways.

The question that keeps rolling through my mind…Is that the last time I will ever see that person (or in the case of Manahira, someone from my village)? It’s a joy to see people, but it is also a bit awkward and painful because you both don’t know what the future holds.

Here is what a friend told me two days ago. He served as a Peace Corps Volunteer here and extended twice (serving a total of four years). He is now teaching english for a local NGO.

‘’Brendan, I got lucky man.’’ He tells me over a Coke.

‘’We all want a nice experience, but mine was almost too nice. This is Africa man, it’s full of instability, your experiencing the ‘real deal.’ Me…I just got lucky man…that’s all.’’

I’m not sure why, but I do find some comfort in his words…

We wait, wait until Saturday…

The Rumor Mill

2009-02-08T20:27:00.000-08:00

Remember the TV show ‘FACT or FICTION’ with that guy who played ‘No. 2’ from Star Trak as the host. …need I say more…..hah, enjoy!

I’m still safe, but my future here isn’t clear. Here are some news articles on what has been going on here.

http://english.china.com/zh_cn/news/international/11020308/20090207/15313669.html

http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20090208/wl_afp/madagascarpolitics_20090208210806

http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/africa/02/08/madagascar.violence/index.html?section=cnn_latest

Fact or Fiction?

Why doesn’t Marc Ravalomanana have Andry Rajoelina killed or even arrested?
Good question…People say its because they are ‘related.’ Apparently Andry had a relationship with Marc’s daughter—in fact they have a child together, which means the Marc is the grandfather of Andry’s child. Andry’s been trying to gain acceptance/approval from his much wealthier and successful Father-in-law ever since (Andry was a poor no-body when he fell ‘in-love’ with Marc’s daughter—explains his determination). Friends here believe this story to be…FACT.

‘’Look how thin the President looks!’’
We heard this said last night when the President (Marc. R.) was giving a speech addressing the public about the now 28 dead and hundreds reported wounded. In fact, people have been saying that the President isn’t the President (i.e. the ‘real’ Marc R.). Marc R. is well educated and no idiot—after all he did build a national multi-million dollar dairy corporation, which he started by selling yogurt from a cart on the streets of Tana. The current Marc R. is actually his less successful younger brother, who secretly had the old Marc. R. assassinated and has taken over the role of President. Marc. R.’s younger brother did run in the Mayoral Race against Andry back in 2007 and he is still bitter about the loss—contributing to the explanation for the current situation the country finds itself in. Friends here aren’t sure about this one and are a little hesitant about claiming it to be true…….FICTION.

Stirring-up the Ethnic Pot
Andry Rajoelina appointed 43-year-old Zafitsimivalo Monja Roindefo, the son of a well-known Madagascan nationalist Monja Jaona, as prime minister of the transitional government on Saturday. Monja Roindefo and his father are Antondroy (a southern ethnic group) that represents some of the poorest people in Madagascar. The region is currently suffering from a draught—thus, poor and hungry. Peace Corps Volunteers who live in the area have been told by friends that they consider the shootings personal (because Monja Roindefo was involved). It’s not clear what any of this means or what the implications will be. Today (Monday) is a meeting in Abovembe—a Antondroy regional hub…this one is….FACT

My situation….I was told in a cryptic Peace Corps text message sent yesterday that our future here is ‘cloudier than ever’ and that they are doing further consolidations (not sure what this means—maybe moving people closer to airports??) It seems our 'waiting game' has just been extended, which only dampens our moods and adds to our frustrations.

I feel for these people—they are frustrated and have no voice. What little voice they had—through peaceful demonstrations, have now turned violent and 28 people are now dead.

God, things are definately ‘cloudy.’

The news today…remains unknown (its early here), but I can tell you about yesterday.

2009-02-03T20:20:00.001-08:00

Yesterday, late in the day we got a call from Peace Corps saying that we should expect to stay at Consolidation Points until the weekend. If demonstrations remain peaceful (as they have the last few days) we will go back to site, but remain on ‘high alert.’ (this means that once at site we would need to stay in daily contact with Peace Corps). The President (the elected one) made a visit to the Ft. Dauphin airport yesterday and gave a speech, which was an opportunity to demonstrate that he is still in ‘control.’

I wrote this early yesterday, but didn’t get to post it…

1/3/09
Yes, It’s Groundhog Day….and….Yes, It’s a ‘Coup.’

So…the ‘self-proclaimed’ leader of Madagascar (ie the Mayor of Tana) is beginning to pick his team for the creation of the ‘transitional’ government he is planning to institute. He will begin a regional tour of Madagascar to energize and stimulate support. The ‘President’ (ie the elected one) is in Africa at a meeting with the African Union—the Union has his support and full backing. Schools are open today, and people are for the most part back at work. Prices are starting to increase, especially oil—cooking and automotive. We seem to be at a standstill, playing the ‘wait and see’ game. Peace Corps has told us to plan on staying at CP (Consolation points) a few more days, until they gain a little more clarity on the situation and what will happen.

I’ve been telling friends about how I use to think those ‘luxury prisons’ they send white collar criminals to were just on big joke….this situation has forced me to reexamine that opinion. This whole experience has been stressful, frustrating, and a bit torturous. The only information we get are cryptic test messages once a day telling us about how the situation is ‘calm but tense’….’remains fluid’….and we are told…’keep a low profile’….’standby’…..’Stay alert.’

NEW RULE among PCVs in Ft. Dauphin: Don’t talk about it. We have no control over our eventual outcome. Let’s enjoy the Beach!

Update

2009-02-01T22:33:00.000-08:00

Here is a good article that sums up the situation here.. But I do NOT like the first sentence/paragraph (its a bit insenstive...cultural and racial)

http://www.iht.com/articles/2009/02/01/africa/madag.4-420685.php?page=1

Things seem calm, nothing big happened here in Ft. Dauphin over the weekend, despite the many rumors going around. I was told by a shop owner to avoid the Market Saturday afternoon. He claimed people would raid and loot the rice silos. This never happened. Sunday morning was a meeting with local politicians. For the most part people here support the Mayor, but under the constitution the Mayor is "a criminal" and should be excuted for treason. The current President was elected by the people. He still is...under the law...the President. Everyone for the most part feels that this is far from over (now being the "eye" of the storm)...I hope they are all wrong. I have heard reports of the military illgally taking 20 billion ar from the central bank, creating some concerns over the current banking system. Again, we wait and see. All the Peace Corps volunteers I am with feel (and hope) that this remains a peaceful political issue/dispute, at which point we would be able to return to are sites under the status of being on "high alert." For now..we remain consolidated, recieving little news and info. Its stressful and tension is high among all of us.

Ill try and keep you all updated

‘‘Yea man, it’s true''

2009-01-30T22:31:00.000-08:00

‘‘Yea man, it’s true; he has been stealing money and taking land. All the News, he tells them what to say. None of it…It’s not true. The people don’t like him man’’

My heart sank when a friend said these words to me yesterday while sitting around a table over a bottle of rum in Ebakika (the next village north from St. Luce). We stopped in Ebakika because we needed to make arrangements with the village regarding tree planting next month (we are planting 24,000 trees, many native). The rum…an inviting cultural gesture by the Chief of the Village.

I was on my way to Ft. Dauphin because Peace Corps has ‘consolidated’ us because of current political unrest. The article below does a better job than I could on the details of the current situation we face here. Please know that I am safe!
http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20090130/wl_nm/us_madagascar_protests_1

The following is my journal from this last month. A friend over-vacation told me that my ‘blog’ was a bit depressing. I apologize if it comes across that way…Writing seems to have become an excellent outlet for the stress I experience and wonderful tool for me to process what is going on around me.

1/8/09
Out and Back
The ‘out and back’ was my least favorite run. I cringed when the words would come out of coach’s mouth. The sheer thought of running 45-50 minutes on a straight flat trail, knowing that when the watch hit ‘the mark,’ I needed to turn around and do it all over again. The general rue—going is always easier than coming back and that rule defiantly applies to my little trip across the ‘belly’ of the south (i.e. Tulear), referring mainly to the transportation of course. A three day journey that is mostly non-stop with the exception of a few hours sleep during one night (which I later learned was a luxury). My ‘wheels’…a Camion—a military truck that had the roof and seating of a school bus. Benches made of wood and packed tight with people.

The trip going out, as expected wasn’t bad. The ride was equipped with music and a light (also a luxury) but doing anything other than staring, sleeping, or engaging in light conversation was impossible. The road across southern Madagascar (R10) is one of the worst. On a few occasions I was amazed that our vehicle managed to stay ‘up-right’ as it navigated around deep holes, debris, and through water that reached far above the wheel-well at times.

Bruised with feet swollen the size of softballs. I did finally arrive in Tulear.

My List of Favorite Moments
1- Getting out of my little corner of the island. I got to drive through most of my friends’ sites (those that ‘bank’ or get money in Fort Dauphin). Its a beautiful country, filled with beautiful people.
2- My New Years—What do you get when you mix a bunch of Rastafarians and Peace Corps Volunteers together on a beach with a fire, a guitar, drums, and a roasted goat. A Good Time!
3- Christmas Breakfast (the Madagascar equivalent to a Denny’s Grand Slam) followed by a Banana Split (No Lie!) DELICIOUS!
4- Epic seaside battle between Flipper Boy (me) and the evil Dr. Able (Ryan Marsh). His technology will never be able to match a high flipper kick/upper cut/followed by a forward motion dauphin kick. (Unfortunately it was one of those moments; you just had to be there!)
5- Maureen telling the story of how I shouted ‘’I’m a Dauphin!’’ while continually diving in and out of water—apparently I managed to interrupt the romantic sun-set being enjoyed by a French couple and the looks on both faces--annoyance and puzzlement were priceless.
6- Movie Mania: The Dark Night, Happy Feet, The Happening (made me miss PA), and Last King of Scotland…oh yes, I must not forget! ‘DRAINAGE! DRAINAGE, ELI!’ ….There Will Be Blood.
7- Snorkeling in the 4th largest coral reef in the world (I think…?)
8- Coco Punch, Café Punch, Sunrise Punch….I tried them all…twice.
9- An intense game of Sof Boccie on the Beach—Its like regular Boccie, only ‘you can play it anywhere. Inside, outside, in the dorm room, or on a table…..’
10- Getting the DJ at a popular night club to play ’Tsara Taolgnaro’ by DaDah de Fort Dauphen and showing the Veso what the Antanosy are all about….

The ride home…far less enjoyable, I was stuck in Tulear an extra night and sat at the station most of the next day—finally leaving at night. Our ride was packed with bags of rice and beans under or feet making an already uncomfortable wooden bench unbearable. We stopped (or broke down) in every town along the way. The journey ended 5k from Fort Dauphin when our ride ran out of gas. I hitched a ride with an aid worker the last 5k.

Overall a great trip! I’m happy I did it! I needed to remove myself from my very small pocket/world on the island.

1/8/09
Untitled
I finally caught that rat that has been living in my roof. I have a rat trap (think oversized mouse trap) and its effective—I’ve killed six to date. But the one I got last night was not only the largest I’ve seen (think small cat), but my trap wasn’t so effective on it. The trap clipped its front leg pinning the Rat it a position that prevented it from being able to free itself.

I had to kill it—I crushed its head with a rock this morning. A task I didn’t find enjoyable.

1/12/09
Moringa, Sales, and New Religious Movements—they all have something in common.

Today as I was walking from Amboandrika (my village) to Manafiafy (the village by the sea), I was continually stopped along the way by people asking about the trees I was carrying in my tanty (think hand-bag?..but much more socially acceptable here for a male to be carrying) and I started to realize that my work with Moringa is no different than a Salesman selling a product, or even a Prophet (or self-proclaimed prophet) recruiting individuals to join a cult religion (New Religious Movement is the more suitable term). When in college I took a Sociology course on New Religious Movements and I remember learning about a simple sociological theory which attempted to explain why people join or get mixed-up with such movements. The name of the theory I can’t remember, but I do remember it was based on a model of gradual socialization. On the fact that people who join cults join them because they have a friend or relative coerce them in attending an event or ceremony initially. At first they usually don’t believe it, they are hesitant and even skeptical of what they hear. But slowly as time goes by and they are continually listening to the religious rhetoric of friends, family, and charismatic individuals they begin to think otherwise. It’s a slow process—it takes time, but an effective way of creating a base (so the theory goes). You start small—with one person by slowly building trust and that person tells a friend, who also tells a friend. Thus, creating a (hopefully in the case of Moringa) a self propelled ‘’snow-ball effect.’’

Today when I returned home from my ‘Sales’ Trip, I stopped to visit a friend, who without any encouragement, help, or coercion was sitting on the floor of her hut picking Moringa Leaves to add to her vary sosoa (watered-rice). At the immediate site of this, two things crossed my mind (the first a thought and the second a feeling).

1-I never thought to even ‘preached’ to people that they should add Moringa Leaves to watered rice (Innovation! Brilliant!)

2-A slight feeling of hope, although small—I’ll take whatever I can get.

Today I made a Sale! I’ll end with a popular quote from the father who built his career in the sales industry. While growing-up when these words were uttered as he walked through the door it usually meant he had a ‘good day.’

‘’I be the Man!’’

1/16/09
Hidden Agenda

Development….sometimes I feel like it’s just the ‘nice’ bow that’s placed on something much deeper. Peace Corps is without a doubt in America’s best interest, sending mostly young Americans abroad and in two years time getting in return a individual with international experience working in and living among the poor. Many Returned Peace Corps Volunteers choice to pursue careers in foreign policy (State Dept. or USAID), or get graduate degrees and pursue careers contributing greatly to both the private and non-private sectors.

My NGO is no different—they use terms like ‘client’ and ‘package’ when it comes to providing people (clients) with a quality volunteer experience.

So what? Why does this eat at me?

I think it’s because when you peel all this ‘shit’ away at the core are people. Individual lives’, livelihoods’, and futures’.

My neighbors don’t own their land…legally. Sure, they farm it; build on it; plant papaya and coco trees. They also raise their children on it. But in an office 45k south sitting in a file cabinet is a piece of paper (or land deed) and its not in their name. It’s in the name of some guy who 15 years prior decided it would be a good investment to start buying up land. At any point this person can decide to build, farm, or just take claim possession of what is legally theirs. Literally pulling the ‘rug’ from under peoples’ feet (or lives).

How can you ever be expected to climb any ladder without ever having firm ground to put it on first?

1/20/09
Untitiled

My response to friends/NGO who are amazed and equally angry at the face that people do take wood from the well marked and well known ‘protected areas.’

‘’It happens…ever get a parking violation, litter along a highway, or urinate in public?’’ (I know I have received and done all three numerous times)

1/23/09
I just ate a watermelon that I grew from seed. It amazes me that I was able to produce a fruit of that size from a seed that was so small. It brings a sense of accomplishment that rivals no other.

1/26/09
Last Monday at market I watched as people traded baskets of leaves for cash. A kilo of leaves for 200ar. I was told that leaves are used for medicine and they grow naturally in the area, where do they go? First to Ft. Dauphin to be packaged, and then on a boat heading for china where they are…processed into some pill…made into some type of tea…an anti-acid elixir…? I’ll never know…

According to people around here the local name of the plant is ‘tonga’ and used for stomach ailments.

1/29/09
Consolidation

I got a phone call from Peace Corps today with instructions that we are in ‘consolidation’ phase. This means ‘get to Ft. Dauphin ASAP.’ I’ve heard that things are getting heated in the nation’s capital. Riots, looting, and the destruction of the headquarters of MBS (Madagascar Broadcasting System)—which all ties into unresolved political disputes (mainly true or untrue accusations) revolving around the current Madagascar President and the current Mayor of Tana (the capital).

‘Consolidation’ is one step away from evacuation and the thought of leaving St. Luce now at this point in my service in a bit painful. I don’t think and desperately hope it’s a situation I will have to face. But, I have very little idea of what is really going on and how serious the situation really is here. The only issue experienced in St. Luce as the result of all this is that I no longer have 3 radio stations to choose from. Life is going on as if nothing is happening. I have no idea how this is going to end…..

Heat, Giardia, and Fish

2008-12-17T00:06:00.000-08:00

The three things that sum up this past month at site. It’s been hot and some days unbearably humid. My day starts earlier and earlier (4am is now the norm), but life seems to slow from 11am to 3pm.

During my last trip back from Ft. Dauphin I brought back an unwanted guest in my gut, which caused a continuously need to go to the bathroom and for well over a week prevented me from traveling far from the comfort of the hole in the ground near my house. The good news is that it cleared up by itself—I suspect it was Giardia.

Fish….. I’ll save the explanation for this below. Overall, life has been good. We’ve had many good fishing days—light wind and a calm sea. People have money! Just in-time for the holidays!

FYI: I heard this bit of news from the hour of BBC news I get each day (about a week ago). Mining giant Rio Tinto is going to be cutting 14,000 jobs (14% of its workforce) worldwide, mainly because of the current economic situation AND particularly the decline of growth in the markets of Developing Countries (i.e. India and China). The implications this will have on the Madagascar Project are unknown—to me anyway.

I’m off to visit friends in Tulear for Christmas. I looking forward to the ride (although I’m told it’s a bit torturous). The route cuts directly through the ‘belly’ of southern Madagascar.

I wish everyone a Happy Holiday and/or Merry Christmas!

11/28/09
‘’We have no money’’—The words that keep the ‘poor’ in poverty?

I was paid a visit by Peace Corps yesterday. Part of me was excited to see what impressions my friends from Tana would have of St. Luce, but as always the trip was quick and brief. We bought fist, we talked about what I was doing, they swam, and we eat fish until we couldn’t move. We also went through all the ‘standard’ site visit formalities (interviews, paper work, etc.).

I was eager to show them some of the results of the cook-stove project, so we walked over to the elementary school in Manafiafy. The World Food Program feeds about 250 kids every school day (they provide pots, corn, rice, oil, sugar, and peas) After a quick introduction, the PCMO (peace crops Doctor) was quick to point out all the signs of malnutrition—disproportionate hands, feet, and heads; frail limbs; dry skin and skin infections; discolored hair and runny noses. In conversation he asked the local ladies who cook for the kids why they don’t treat the water they use with Chlorine (available at most shops throughout Madagascar), and than began instructing them on how they could clean the dirt off the plates with some vinegar.

As the doctor spoke, the faces of the two women became cold and serious. They lost all the facial glow that I was use to seeing. Immediately broke all eye contact with my ad the doctor and became fixated on the sandy soil at their feet. Shoulders dropped. It’s a posture I’ve seen before—a common sight when interning with a CYS agency during college. It’s the posture of disencouragement / disempowerment.

When the Doctor finished, he immediately got the response heard a lot, ‘’we don’t have money for that.’’ (a response or move of an excuse…?) I had a teacher in High School who would tell students (myself included) that if you say you ‘cannot’ do something, it actual means that you ‘will not’ do something, which ultimately means you ‘never’ tried. The ‘I have no money’ excuse is the ‘I can’t’ of the developing world. It justifies the current situation that the poor find themselves. When these words are uttered the doors of innovation and self-improvement are slammed shut. The advice given is being heard but processed defensively— Who are you? Why should I listen to you?

Of course this attitude can be overcome; all that is needed is trust, which is built through personal interaction. Andy’s successes as a social worker (my formal CYS supervisor) where the clients he continued to see and check-up on after they aged out the CYS system, the people he connected with on an individual level and was able to spark a willingness for self induced change.

12/01/08
The Politics of the Pump
In short, I returned from town to discover a new fence equipped with pad-lock around the water pump at the School near my house. My main source of drinking water and a favorite of many in my community because it doesn’t have a strong sulfur smell and the same discoloration like the water from the village well.
So, now when I get water people run after me with buckets in hand—lines form and what before only took 10 minutes now takes an hour. But the pump has been breaking and needs to be fixed every other day. First, I was told that kids shouldn’t use it, now people say I shouldn’t let other people use it (with the exception being a select few), and today Sosony suggested the I unscrew the handle and keep it in my house—what happened here! How did this become my pump and my problem? QMM built it, they should fix it right?

11/30/08
‘’Must remember that your role in development is not to become a hero, but rather make heroes out of the people with whom we are working.’’

I was disappointed and annoyed today when I showed up (as prearranged) only to discover that a cook-stove was already finished and build wrong (or differently). But later I came to the realization that this is how it should be. Who cares if they don’t like air vents, a certain mixture, or technique? It’s all about people taking ownership, taking an idea and making it their own. After all, creativity always sparks enthusiasm.

So…what have I contributed to this cook-stove project? At times it feels like I’ve done little, but help people construct them. But after some thought it seems I have actually supplied my NGO with heroes. Key people who advocate and help family, friends, and neighbors build improve cook-stoves, while saving money, time, and ultimately trees. They each have their own way of doing it, that doesn’t make it ‘wrong,’ its just ‘different.’

12/7/08
Wedding Season
As the sun slips southward (the north goes cold and Mad-car goes hot). Wedding Season also seems to accompany the rapid rise in temperature and just starting to pick-up down here. My village (Amboandrika) has had two this past weekend and it’s ‘different’ alright….

Everyone piles into a small house (a how many people can fit inside a phone booth situation—literally). Struggling for cool air and enduring the awkward position of sitting with my knees in my face, we all watched as a chicken’s neck is cut and blood collected on a flat stone, at which point the Bride is escorted inside. Both Bride and Groom sit in front of an elder from each family. Both say some words and place a dot of chicken blood on the forehead of both. Everyone cheers! Next, enters the jug of moon-shine (a rum made from sugarcane) and everyone drinks. Following all the drinking a table and chair is placed outside the hut and the newly married couple take a seat. Everyone shows their encouragement by giving money (putting it inside a hat), giving handshakes, and close family and friends give cooking utensils.

12/09/08
It’s the Night Before….

I helped build 3 cook-stoves today and I am exhausted, but no rest for this guy because tomorrow I… Armed with a hook, a tatava or stick, and 5 kilo line, tomorrow at 3am I get to experience… I don’t know how this is going to go… I’m going to get sick and based on past experiences (mostly around man-made lakes in PA) my changes of catching anything are slim. That’s right! Tomorrow I fish!

12/10/08
Sun Rise, Sun Rise

There is something exciting about getting up before the sun. Maybe it’s because I only do it on rare and special occasions, the anxiety and anticipation experienced as a child, always arousing the emotions of waiting for the sun the break through the horizon on Christmas mornings.

I was up before I heard the knock on the door. Grabbed the things I had set out the night before and bolted out the door. As we walked by my neighbors I made sure to yell and make as much noise as possible (a rare opportunity for a little pay-back).

In the morning darkness we sat, drank coffee, and laughed (mostly at my expense as usual). I told them that I was probably going to throw-up and how I didn’t need paddle because I had my hands. Conversation mostly revolved around me and of course, fishing.

We walked under the light of the stars, greeted in the darkness along the way by friends, family, and neighbors. Mostly with jaws dropped with amazement at the sight of me going to fish.

The Boys Club

We walked on to the Beach, which at that point was bustling with activity. People pulling boats into the water and getting gear ready. Yesterdays catch, todays calm sea, and yes…girls were all common topics of discussion. This is without a doubt a ‘boys club’ and I was honored to have been invited to experience it. We sat and waited as the other three in out fishing party paddled the boat around the rocks from the southern beach.

‘’Its going to be hot, did you bring water?’’ A friend asks with a touch of laughter accompanied with a look of amazement.
‘’Yes I have some thanks.’’ Thanks dad—I think to myself.

By now the sun crept above the horizon and lit-up the sky with every shade of pink and red imaginable. With the palm trees in the background it reminded me of a photo you would see on someone’s’ Windows desktop.

The boats are small one piece canoes carved out of large trees from the rain forests up north. I can’t imagine experiencing a rough sea in one and I wont any time soon because today the sea is as calm as a swimming pool. The boat arrives, I throw on my life jacket (a PC must) and hop in. Balance is critical in these hollowed out tree trunks. Each man has to sit on alternating sides to keep the ‘sea-worthy’ craft from tipping.

Fishing
We paddled around some rocks and about 2k into the body of water known as the Bay of St. Luce. But don’t be fooled by the name, this is nothing like the protected bay side I was use to seeing at the Jersey shore. It is unprotected open water. We paddled into a group of about 20 boats. All making some reference to the fact that this canoe was carrying a tall lanky ‘white’ guy.

Did you ever see a game show where the winner gets the chance to stand in a box and grab as much money out of the air as possible as $ bills are continuously blown all around? I don’t think I have.... But anyway fishing for Sihely is a similar experience (I can imagine).
You throw your hand-line into the school of fish below and pull up a 7 inch fish. I used one line, which continually became tangled with every fish I brought out of the water. Everyone else in the boat worked three at a time. Drop the line into the water, pull on it quickly when you feel a tug, bring up the fish, grab it (without getting your hand hooked), drop it into your basket, rebate if needed, and repeat. We fished like this for four hours, interrupted periodically by the Dauphines who also were enjoying the bounty of the sea just a few feet away. I could have fished longer—the time past quickly. But I was interrupted by a shout from the rear of the boat saying we needed to get back quick. The logic was that other boats were already heading back and if we get back early enough you could sell less for more (8 for 200ar) I rolled up my line and was handed a paddle.

This part I particularly enjoyed—because it was a mad dash to get back to the beach. We rowed in alternating unison, right side and left side continually sprayed by a mist as we cut through the swells. My chest burned and arms ached, but I found the sound of the paddles cutting through the water and the quick propulsions forward almost hypnotic. It was exhausting, but it was accompanied with a rhythm that made it pleasurable. We passed numerous boats—most stopping at the site of me rowing a boat. We finally approached the beach, which by mid-morning was littered with people and bustling with activity, I walked onto the beach trying not to fall over and was greeted with laughter, amazement, and Sosony.
‘’Fa nahazo hanoa?’’ He yells out from the top of the beach.
His face was lit-up at the sight of the full basket of fish I was carrying.
After selling my basket of fish for 2000ar (12 fish for 200ar), Sosony and I started walking home as the rest of the group geared up to head back out. Our walk home was frequently interrupted by people stopping and asking questions— Did you get a lot? Did you throw up? You can fish?

I broke two taboos while fishing. The first was whistling—a hard one to restrain from and I broke it a few times. Apparently is attracts whales and sharks. Yelling out ‘Fuck!’ when I would catch myself in the mindless act each time brought about more laughter among my fishing mates than the actual fear of attracting a large predatory fish. The second was bringing a banana with me on board (which I later learned if eaten would have spoiled the catch).

In all it was a good experience and I have been on a natural ‘high’ all day. It’s fun to see the reactions on faces when people find out that I fished. Even people who don’t fish for a living have expressed interest in going after I tell them about my experience. As if I have made it ‘okay’ to fish—not just a job for the uneducated and poor…

What happens to my fish?
The journey doesn’t end on the beach (except for the six I ate for lunch). They will get smoked and tomorrow begin the 15 hour walk from St. Luce to Ranomafana. Where they are sold for 200ar a piece or traded for rice (sold around 250/300ar a cup in Ranomafana). The rice gets transported back to St. Luce and sold at 400ar a cup.

People can make a lot of money and it all revolves around supply, demand, and accessibility. Ranomafana is not accessible by road from St. Luce. Only by a steep and difficult to navigate trail that cuts across a mountain range and through the southern tip of Madagascar’s rain forest corridor. The town is a Commune head that is highly populated (and relatively speaking) wealthier than St. Luce. Most of the wealth coming from agriculture, supplying the region and Ft. Dauphin with coffee, rice, beans, and other agricultural commodities.

The fishermen know it’s not particularly ‘fair.’ They fish all day (with at times a lot of risk involved), pull in a catch, sell if for pennies to a foreigner on the beach who transports it (one could argue with an equal amount of energy input) and sells it for dimes. ‘’It’s not right.’’ Kolasy tells me as we sit on the floor of his hut and he takes a sip of rum.

According to his reports the second trip out was not nearly as bountiful as the first. I received an open invite to go again. I told him when it’s really calm I’ll consider it, we both laugh and I headed home to cook the rest of my fish for dinner.

Lets Talk Mining: A thick layer on the multi-layered cake I call St. Luce.

2008-11-24T00:42:00.000-08:00

----This is meant to give only a brief introduction to the overall mining project----

The Rio Tinto Group, a UK-Australian based mining company has been studying a mining project near the town of Fort. Dauphin in Southeastern Madagascar for the past 17 years. The mining project, which is extracting ilmenite and small quantities of zircon, is called Qit Fer Madagascar Minerials S.A. (QMM) and is owned 80% by Rio Tinto with the possibility of the government owning 20%. The 20% ‘potential’ ownership depends on the availability of international funds—needing to find $117 million USD through international financial institutions to claim its full 20% capital share. The current shared ownership is only assured during the current ‘mine development phase,’ which expires at the point of first extraction (originally set for Dec. 2008), if funds can not be found/borrowed Rio Tinto would become the sole owner of the project.

Its been estimated that the mine could last 50-60 years extracting grains of ilmenite and small quantities of zircon from the mineral sand deposits near Ft. Dauphin. Mining exploration efforts have confirmed ilmenite and zircon in four sectors (villages)—the Petriky sector, the Mandena sector, and the St. Luce sector. Together they host reserves which could sustain mining operations for more than 60 years at a rate of 750,000 tones of ilmenite a year.

The Mining Process:
1) Removing vegetation cover (storing the humus layer if and when applicable).

2) Extracting sand by dredging, requiring the creation of artificial lakes.

3) Mechanically separating the heavy metals (about 5%) and returning non-heavy metals(about 95%) back to mining site.

4) Separating ilmenite and zircon from other heavy mental.

5) Returning other heavy metals to the mining site.

6) Restoration of mined areas—replanting using tree species already commonly planted throughout Madagascar. (the process will require the removal and loss of extremely rare fragments of littoral coastal forest).

The project overall is the largest foreign investment in Maagascar’s history and is the first in a series of natural resource extraction projects that the country is developing with the international mining sector and the World Bank. This project has been labeled a ‘flagship,’ raising the bar of the international mining community. Is this true? Or just another exploitation of national resources at the expense of a desperate country and its people? …You Decide…. (I encourage you to research on your own and not to interpret anything written here as complete fact).

Good Community relations have always been a priority of the QMM project. A social and Enviornmental Impact Assessment started the project back in 1990 and concluded in 2001. (this includes the establishment of two ‘protected’ fragments of littoral forest—in Mandena and St. Luce). QMM’s early community relations strategy was inspired by Rio Tinto’s (the parent company) policy—As expressed in the document ‘the way we work.’ The document uses language such as ‘mutual respect,’ ‘active and reciprocal partnerships,’ and ‘long term commitment to the communities in which QMM is present.’

If you are saying, ‘That doesn’t sound much like a mining company.’ I found this info awhile back in Jared Diamond’s book ‘‘Clasped’’

Papua New Guinea’s Bougainville Island Copper Mine

The Bougainville Island Copper Mine in Papua New Guinea was the countries largest enterprise and biggest earner of foreign exchange, and one of the largest copper mines in the world.
The mine was faced with a problem, the same problem all mining projects face—what to do with tailings or unused/unneeded material, started dumping its waste directly into a tributary of the Jaba River (a major source of water for the people). This caused monumental environmental impacts at the expense of the New Guinean people. The Government failed to resolve the situation, thus outraged and frustrated inhabitants revolted, triggering a civil war that cost thousands of lives and nearly tore apart the nation of Papua New Guinea.
Fifteen years since the outbreak of civil unrest, peace has still not fully been restored on Bougainville. The mine still remains closed (officially closing its doors in 1989) at the expense of owners and lenders (including Bank of America, US Export/ Import Bank, and Australian and Japanese lenders).

In 1990 on the heels of this disaster, top executives of some of the world’s largest international mining companies became concerned about the future of their Industry (afraid that they had lost all ‘social license to operate’). They formed an initiative appropriately named the ‘Mining Minerals and Sustainable Development (MSD) project and launched a series of studies on sustainable mining and enlisted a well-known environmentalist as its director—the President of the National Wildlife Federation at the time. They also attempted without much success to involve the broader environmental community, which refused out of pure disgust from previous mining practices (i.e. Bougainville). In 2002, the study arrived at a series of recommendations (as mandated) at which point most of the mining companies involved declined to implement any recommendations.

The exceptions is the mining giant Rio Tinto, which moved ahead on some of the recommendations, which were backed by a supportive CEO and shareholders—still scarred by the companies experience of owning the Bougainville Island Copper Mine in New Guinea.

Of course business advantages exist when a company is seen as an industry leader in ‘social responsibility.’

The Borax mine in California’s Death Valley is one of the most cleanly operated mines in the U.S. (owned by Rio Tinto).

When Tiffany and Co. began stressing environmental considerations in selecting a mining company as a key gold supplier, they went with Rio Tinto. Tiffany and Company was eager to fend off the negative attention of protesters outside of their jewelry stores protesting the use of cyanide (linked to clasping fisheries) in the gold mining process

The ilmentite deposit here in Madagascar is located in the Anosy region of south-eastern Madagascar (I speak/learned the Anosy dialect). It’s a region that has been historically plagued with poverty, isolation, and according to who you speak with—political/administrative neglect. 82% of the people live in poverty (the national average is around 74%). The regional economy is based on agriculture (sisal and rice are the ‘staple’ crops).

A word on Sisal production.
(from the Bradt Madagascar Guide)

The crop was introduced in the early 1900s with the first exports in 1922 (with 42 tons going to France). By 1950 production reached 3,080 tons annually mainly because of its use in carpet production. Requiring the clearing of endemic forest, to make room for sisal production. In 1952 a synthetic substitute was developed in the US and the market in Madagascar clasped.

But in the 1990’s the market resurged exporting 5,000 tones in 2005—putting more forest at risk (old land was converted to other uses—thus new land needed to be found). Why?
Ironically ‘green’ consumers in the EU and USA demanding biodegradable packaging, which is made from sisal.

Even rice production is weak and the region, which needs to import 12,000 tons to meet its yearly demand.

74% of school aged children do not attend school.

When I recently asked Angelo who is 14 years old, ‘why doesn’t go to school?’ He told me that the teacher was mean and laughed (I laughed too, because this wasn’t true—he is a good friend and well respected within the community). It makes sense…Why go to School? An office/job or any future other than fishing seems so abstract and unattainable. With the mining project underway and the rapid development to come, Angelo and others like him will surely be left behind.

What is Ilmenite?
It’s been said that the project is dependant on China’s growth, which is generating much of the demand for both ilmenite and zirconium. The ilmenite is used in making a white dye that is used to give the white pigment found in plastic bags, paint, and skin lotions.
According to an article I found with 2006 figures, ilmenite stood at $75-85 USD per-ton. Zirconium was priced at $800 USD per ton. But the ilmenite will not be going straight to the open market. A special agreement allows Qit Fir (Rio Tinto) to have exclusive rights to buy the ilmenite at market price and ship it to its smelting plant in Canada, where it will be converted into titanium chloride (priced at $413-550 USD per ton in 2006).

A lot of tension exists between the mining company and my partnering NGO (the relationship between the two was even mentioned in a report by the WWF in 2006). My NGO, was created in 1994 with the intension of finding ‘developmental alternatives’ to the mining project.

When I recently asked Sosony ‘Why he didn’t like the mining company?’
He said it was ‘bad and would damage the soil.’
He than sat quietly in a daze for a brief moment, finally letting out a sigh with the word ‘unwise.’

Many in the village don’t hold this same view and are supportive of the QMM project.

Shahalay and Lychees

2008-11-20T03:20:00.000-08:00

I didn’t have an easy month. I was plagued with cultural frustration and homesickness. But overall things seem to be coming together. I’ve been eating well—My favorite fish are running (an oily sardine about six inches long— Shahalay in Gasy ) that can be cooked in a soup or fried and eaten whole. I’ve also been enjoying the Lychee harvest—a sweet fruit the same size as a cherry (Do we have them in the States? I’ve never had them before).

9/26/08
Who Stole the Cookies from the Cookie Jar?

Everyone gathered around the one small shop in Amboandrika (my village, the first hamlet that makes up St. Luce) in the late afternoon. I showed up late because I was roaming around the side of the road hoping to find a piece of scrape wood that could be mounted above my door to prevent rain water from coming in, of course I didn’t find anything…

It was the largest gathering in our hamlet that I’ve seen. Kids, men, women –all village life came to a halt. Our chief of the village sat in the only chair in the center surrounded by villagers. He was angry and it was easy to tell by his body language. He sat on the edge of his chair hands cutting through the air as he spoke.
‘’It was children, children, not foreigners. I’m not playing! I will go to Ft. Dauphin and get the police. Who? Who was it?’’

A long silent pause follows as he sits back in his chair and crosses his arms.

As we wait, people start talking among themselves. Some put forth alternative theories of what could have happened to the two missing coconuts and the four missing chickens.
‘’It could have been a hawk’’ one suggests.
‘’Someone from Malatalaky’’ another yells out.

Benombie (chef de village) wasn’t convinced and sat up in his chair, again hands waving as he spoke. He spoke with such intensity that the veins in his neck and forehead started to swell.
‘’We have a problem here…It’s a big problem. Someone stole two of Rasimba’s coconuts. People are missing chickens, not a few, a lot! Children! You think I am playing? This is a huge problem and I will get the police myself!’’

The children sitting behind him muttered a few words. I couldn’t make out what was said. Benombie didn’t turn around, he maintained his position in the chair facing forward with a look the displayed both his anger and disappointment. He pointed to the sandy soil next to him.
‘’Here!’’ he said. ‘’Stand here, and speak up!’’

Two boys arose from behind him with water filled eyes—shoulders drooped, eyes frantically scanning the disappointed faces of the crowd. It was clear that they have been shamed.

They apologized to Rasimba for taking his coconuts and claimed that they did not know who was stealing the chickens and cooking them in the forest. The gathering continued for another half hour as Benobmie drilled the children until one boy finally gave him a list of four names.

Besides public humiliation, the boys had to pay for each coconut and each chicken that was taken.

(I wrote this before my accident, because people have had questions about my safety and security at site).

10/24/08
Coming to Terms with the Reality of Things—what did I get out of all this? A lesson on what Peace Corps is all about.

When I returned to my village earlier this week I wasn’t sure what I was going to be returning to. A garden full of dead plants, a house full of rat poop, a blood stained floor, and moldy food, all I knew was inevitable. But what I ultimately got when I returned on Monday was a lesson of what this experience is all about. If you have read previous posts, its clear that I’ve been suffering from a lot of self-induced doubt about my work here—am I doing enough and am I being productive? It’s clear now that assessing progress through a ‘’western perspective’’ will never work here.
Everyday when I wake-up..I’m doing something. Every smile I bring…I’m doing something. Every person who has asked about my finger or by overall well-being…proves that I’ve done something.
My progress here is displayed on the face of Juno when he greets me everyday with a grin from ear to ear. It’s displayed in the words of Sosony when he continually told me how he missed having me around. It’s shown in the newly found confidence displayed by Kolasy when he is interacting and working around foreigners. The reality of this situation is that vegetables die, food rots, and cook stoves break. But it’s the intangible, the unnoticed, and the personal relationships that matter most. That’s what is and will ultimately be ‘sustainable.’ This experience here is mine, its time I accept it for what it is. People will continually judge, ask, and wonder. But they will never really know. They don’t live here. They camp for a week, visit for a day, or read a report from an office. Non-of-which will ever fully capture the reality of my situation here.

10/27/08
It’s a Celebration
Today my brother got married. Between spreading the joy by telling everyone I know that a HUGE party was taking place in America. I spent most of the afternoon with just about every able bodied person trudging through marsh trying to distinguish a brush fire. The reality and dangers of ‘slash and burn’ agriculture on an exposed wind swept field. The good news is that no one was injured, no houses burned, and no cassava fields damaged.
The day ended with the purchase of a beer (a rarity when at site) and a communal gathering with Sosony and his family as we ‘’toasted’’ to my brother and new sister’s good fortune and future life together! Cheers!

10/29/08
The Egos in the World of Development and the Complications that Follow

Its no mystery that Peace Corps or the ‘challenge’ of Peace Corps attracts some highly qualified, bright, and very opinionated people. My closest Peace Crops friends went to Dartmouth and Yale. Half of my training group has a graduate degree (Law, Engineering, Political Science, Marine Biology, and Conservation are just a few). Even the people who work for or volunteer with my partnering organization have degrees and graduate degrees from highly reputable institutions (Oxford, Cambridge, St. Andrews, London School of Economics). On the one hand it’s great that this type of work can attract the best and the brightest. On the other hand it creates an environment of what I find to be full of unnecessary tension and competition. Everyone has the same goal in mind (Development), but it easily takes a back seat to individual gains and interests. Publications, organization/self-promotion, and thoughts of future careers can quickly over shadow any idealism.
At the organization level, you have a large number of NGOs, many providing the same services, competing among each other for the same grants, funding streams, and media attention. All adding more tension to an already highly competitive field.
Organizations create artificial boundaries, claiming ‘this’ village or ‘that’ village as their ‘territory.’ Organizational cooperation is rare (we have the funding and the staff…why talk to them..??). It’s a constant race against time. Founding streams go dry, quotas and obligations need to be met and reports compiled.

The three month tale of the Vitamin A Sweet Potato
-Steve visits my site and tells me about this new vitamin A enriched sweet potato.
-Thinking about farming sweet potatoes, I decide to try and get some cuttings.
-I email a contact given to me by Steve—not as easy as it sounds.
-I get a reply a month later and learn that CARE had run a test program back in 2004.
-I talk to a CARE worker in Mahatalaky who has no idea what I’m talking about.
-I resend an email to my contact, who never replies because I later discover that he no longer works in Madagascar.
-I talk to the regional head of CARE who says, ‘’Yea we have them, but not here.’’ He sends me to ASOS (another organization).
-I go to ASOS and talk with a representative who tells me they do have the variety, but they are ‘’not here.’’ ‘’Come back in a month.’’
-I return a month later, still no sweet potato
-I speak with the head of the nutrition program at ASOS (a frustrating experience with my limited Gasy). He gives me a map with the name of what I though was an organization 20k outside of Ft. Dauphin.
-I bike the 20k and discover that the ‘organization’ is a village and I would need to bike another 20k to reach it.

All I wanted was to help by setting up a test plot and see if it would grow in St. Luce. I walk away three months later Potato less and missing my short window to plant.

11/09/08
Damn Johnny, this sucks!

Johnny Appleseed—would have been labeled an evangelical ‘’hippie’’ by today’s standards. He spread the word of god, his love of nature, and apple seeds throughout the American frontier (at the time—Western PA, Ohio, and Indiana). He was no ‘’saint’’ by definition, although a missionary of sorts, he made his money/living setting up apple orchards. Apples were a prized possession for making moon-shine all along the frontier. Johnny was also a little odd. He preferred isolation, enjoyed sleeping outdoors in hollowed logs, and used a potato sack as clothing. Its been said that he once punished his foot for killing an ant by walking shoe-less an entire winter. None of this I particularly relate with—with the exception of having a love for nature and maybe being a bit odd. What I can relate with is the contrast between the two very different worlds he frequented. He was drawn to the wild of the outdoors—slept under trees, lived among Native Americans, and scavenged for food. He also stayed in a place long enough to establish a tree nursery, and witness the establishment of settlements and arrival of settlers, providing them with a much valued commodity. He was a frequently welcomed guest into homes up and down the frontier, receiving a warm meal and place to sleep for the exchange of tales about Indians and the gospel. Although living an entertaining life he was ‘’sandwiched’’ between two very different worlds, never fully belonging to any particular one.

I’m not sure if ‘lost’ would have best described his predicament as much as ‘awkward.’ He never really ‘fit-in’ and I have come to this realization that I, like Johnny, am also ‘’sandwiched.’’ When I run into people from the western world—tourists, volunteers, researchers I find it harder and harder to relate. Conversation quickly runs dry and stories quickly become old. I am still and probably always will be an awkward fit within my community and as my ‘’western’’ conversation skills start to degrade; I start to feel more and more isolated/trapped. I currently find myself ‘sandwiched.’ I wonder if Johnny found his situation as frustrating as I find mine to be.

11/11/08
Curve Balls
Forest Gump’s mother best described life as a box of chocolates and that you will never really know what you’re are going to get. That explanation is the best way to describe daily life here. The curve balls, the things that I don’t see coming and catch me completely off guard only add to my already unpredictable pace of life here. This past week I experienced three. First, I learned that a Gasy friend gets money and ‘nice’ things through gay prostitution (as you can imagine it’s much more complicated). He’s married with a beautiful wife and child. The thought that he is doing it just for money to support his family makes my stomach turn. Second, I discovered that a brick building down the road houses about 300 ‘improved’ unused bee hives (for increasing honey production). Another example of poor managed funding/projects within development. Third, I discovered that the person who runs the environment program for my NGO, owns land (or a patch of forest) in St. Luce. He has already cleared a large portion and plans to clear more—with the hope of building tourist bungalows. (A great example of ‘Tragedy of the Commons’?? An ‘If I don’t someone else will’ mentality??).

11/15/08
Untitled
I can’t help but wonder what everyone thinks when they see me or when they speak to me. To many people I feel like I am just my material possessions. A ball pump, a bike pump, scotch tape, a flash light, a radio. People love to come into my house and gaze wide eyed at my bike, my stove, my books, my solar panels (that run my BLU radio). I can’t stand the type of attention this brings and as you can imagine it makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable. You begin to question peoples’ motives. Why are they helping me? What will they ask for later on? Are they just being nice because they want something? I hope I am able to move past this, but I am not sure I ever will.

11/18/08
An Update
So I’ll close with a quick update on things.

My finger tip has grown back (I’m like a lizard). It looks a little odd, but not all that noticeable. People in my village love to show me injures they have had with an antsy, an axe, or a machete. We’ve been laughing a lot, mostly at my expense.

The Humpback Whales are migrating to feeding grounds up north (they move down south to give birth) and they are active— the breeching can be heard at night in my house and I live 3k from the beach.

I took advantage of a school vacation and build five cook stoves near the EPP(elementary school) in St. Luce. A food aid program cooks for the children five days a week.

My neighbor has a Moringa tree that’s maybe four/five months old and 8 feet tall already.

The big question on everyone’s mind—When will Brendan go fishing?
The answer: December

Another big question: Can I have some Tomatoes?

I have started getting informal mandolin lessons—made of fishing wire and wood carved by locals. I’m no good.

I fixed our water-pump today with Scotch Tape—A job that would make my grandfather (a well experienced master of the ‘quick’ fix) very proud.

Helped with some lemur research—I have seen all the lemurs found in St. Luce except for the Collard Brown lemur. I starting to question its existence.

I ate my first sea-urchin the other day and it tastes as you would expect…a spongy texture with a fishy taste.

Because it was written in my notebook—I’ll add it to this post. A quote from ‘One Straw Revolution’ by Masanobu Fakuoka
‘’I believe that a revolution can begin from this one strand of straw. Seen at a glance, this rice straw may appear light and insignificant. Hardly anyone would believe that it could start a revolution. But I have come to realize the weight and power of this one strand of straw.’’

“This is a story all about how my life got turned a little up side down”

2008-10-06T03:16:00.000-07:00

So yesterday was Sunday—should be a day of rest. But I wanted to feel productive So I did some laundry, fixed my compost pile (my attempt to make it chicken proof) and began cutting some small pieces of Cassava so I could experiment with a graft (grafting two species of cassava together to increase the plants overall yield).
But before I begin, I want to mention that these chickens are driving me CRAZY, they come into the garden (they are small so they find small openings in my fence) and have killed numerous plants, clawing at the sandy soil (which can get really dry in the afternoon sun)—Its been a constant battle to keep them from completely destroying anything I’ve planted.
8:30am
So …I’ll continue…I start cutting little pieces of cassava, they need to be small and have a clean cut in order for the graft to take.
I cut a piece and its wasnt a clean cut, I moved it inward on the cutting board so I could try again. I bring my ansty back (a universal tool-think clever). As I came down I heard the sound of rustling leaves behind me, which broke my concentration-thinking “Those damn chickens are in my garden again.”
*Wack!*
I feel a sting and adrenaline kicks in…
First thought: Fuck! You Idiot! You Fucking Idiot…I just cut your thumb off!
After realizing my thumb was still in one piece .
Second thought: Fuck! You Idiot! You just cut the tip of your thumb off!
I wasted no time—shaking, I ran inside and grabbed my med kit. It looked bad…blood was dripping everywhere…….I wrapped it and applied pressure….as I was trying to locate my telephone (my site does have cell phone reception now—although it doesn’t always work). Eventually finding it I tied my phone numerous times but no signal. Thoughts raced through my mind…
Is it really that bad? When I cut myself before (that’s right this is my second time), it looked real bad at first but once the bleeding stopped, it turned out only to be minor. …maybe this was the same…
Should I go to Mahatalaky? (the center of my commune has a hospital.) If I go…how? It’s a Sunday and a strong wind (no lobster trucks are running today) Should I bike? It was starting to get hot.
I paced my house for 3 hours pondering these questions and more. I checked my wound twice hoping that each time it would look just a little bit better than before—of course it didn’t.
Sosony (my counter-part) finally arrives from his brother’s funeral a half-day walk from my village. I apologized and told him I cut myself…he quickly gave me his phone…at which point we contacted Lala (runs the environment program for my NGO) who suggested I go to Mahatalaky. The phone goes dead in mid-conversation. I rush back to my house, grab a few things and throw them in my backpack. Sosony comes walking over and I tell him that I should be returning later that afternoon. He helps wrap my thumb up tight. While we wrap he mentions that two people died yesterday in St. Luce while fishing and one was family. I pause and let out a big sigh, he finishes the tape and says “don’t worry about it, get to Mahatalaky quick.” I jump on my bike and go!
It’s now 12:30 and Hot!
As I bike the 15k to Mahatalaky. Thoughts continue to pop in and out of my head…First, this could have been a lot worse. Second—still trying to stay positive- maybe its not all that bad….I start to wonder about the Hospital…maybe the inside is a lot nicer than the outside. This country does continually manage to surprise me….Maybe the doctor is well educated and speaks English.

1:10 I arrive in Mahatalaky.
I try to buy some credit for my phone first, thinking it would be good to call Lala back or my PCMO (Peace Corps doctor). No one has any credit to sell me. ..
I walk into the hospital (a house) and take a seat at a rusty table and the female doctor (doesn’t speak English) removes my wrapping. I try and make light of the situation—telling them how I was farming Bella Hazo and how I’m not very good with a big knife. She takes cotton and cleans the wound, but in the process she manages to re-open it, causing it to bleed again. She lets out a sigh and says that we will need to cut it off….at which point I say….What!….Hold on here!….
I suggest we just wrap it, which she does and I start looking for a phone to call Peace Corps. The hospital didn’t have a phone, but she directed me to a house about 3k away that sites on a hill, where on clear days you can get cell reception from Ft. Dauphin.

As I approach the house, the family come out and greeted me. I tell them that I need to get phone reception and they point to a tree on the side of the house. I climb the tree and a few bars appear on the phone. I try and call and I loose the signal.
They finally invite me inside (realizing my desperation and frustration) and point to a basket hanging on the wall in the corner of the room. When the phone is placed directly in the basket I got a few bars. Thus, I’m standing in some strange family's house, interrupted their meal, talking into a basket (a bit odd). I don’t think these words give justice to how crazy the situation really was. ..
I finally get a hold of Dr. Bruce (PCMO) and after about 40 minutes of phone tag, he thought it would be best for me to make my way to Ft. Dauphin and than to Manambaro (a town 20k outside). They might be able to apply stitches (allowing me to save a tip of the thumb). My NGO gets a car but its about 1 hour and 30 mins away. I start biking thinking that any time saved can only help the situation. It’s now 2:00pm

As I bike I keep getting constant calls….Bruce, Lief (PCPD), Brett (runs my NGO), Rita (Volunteer in Ft. Dauphin), Eric (the driver of the car sent to pick me up). I bike about 20k and get picked up. The time is now 3:30pm

I car rushes to and through Ft. Dauphin. Finally arriving at Manambaro at 4:30pm
I get my thumb looked at be the nurse who, in a much more professional manner (it could be the atmosphere—no doubt still a third world hospital, but had funding through a Church) told me that the cells were dead and I would have to get it cut.
The Doctor finally appears. He takes me to a dark back room and tells me to have a seat on an old in-patient bed. He examines my cut, tells me its not all that bad, re-cleans and wraps it, and tells me that Jesus loves me (again Church funded).
They gave me a few pain killers and some anti-biotics for the night (both Ok with DR. Bruce PCMO) and they told me to return tomorrow when the pharmacist would be in so I could get the rest of my meds (it was a Sunday).

I get to Ft. Dauphin at 6:30pm.
Tell my crazy story a few times, eat a cup of rice, and pass-out.

5:00 am my watch alarm goes off and I start walking to the Taxi Be Station.
I’m able to get in the first full Taxi Be (they don’t leave until full, thus very unpredictable. Full means 4-5 in each a bench seat and 2 in the trunk of a very old car).

I arrive at 7:30 am and meet the two nurses. After a few minutes of small talk they invite me to go to the morning service at church (again Church funded hospital). I thinkWhy not?…Jesus love me…or so I’m told...thus I go to church.

The service ends at 8:30 am. I finally get my meds and pay my bill from yesterday.
But this story doesn’t end…

While picking up my medicine my original doctor, accompanied by another doctor, came and told me they wanted to see me again.

I went back into the examination room and one of the doctors takes another look at my thumb. Realizing the tissue was dead, he pulled out a pair of scissors and cut the dead tissue and nail. It hurt! and bled again. He placed my small piece of thumb on the table, cleaned and bandaged me up, while calling the name of the other doctor. When a few minutes passed and the other doctor didn’t arrive, he told me to have a seat in the corner of the examination room. It got awkward because he started invited and treating other patients while I waited. For 30 minutes I sat through the cleaning and repacking of what I think was three deeply infected wounds of three different patients.

When the other doctor finally arrived, he picked up the small piece of thumb examined it for a minute and handed it to me saying I could keep it as a gift and that I was finally "done."

So to wrap up this long story, I am on antibiotics and a painkiller (although I’m in very little pain). I have a “prescription” to get me thumb re-cleaned and re-bandaged every two days at a hospital in Ft. Dauphin. But because I had a small piece of thumb removed (in a local hospital) Peace Corps is sending me to Tana so I can be examined by the PCMO. Under normal situations a trip to Tana would be great, but I didn’t bring anything (not even a change of cloths) when I left St. Luce on Sunday, which adds more stress to an already stressful situation.

I was examining my “gift.” It’s a small corner of my thumb and a large portion of nail—I think the nail will grow back and the cut was on an angle, so it’s hard to predict what it will look like when it finally heals. I did not hit bone, and I can still move and I have feeling. I was VERY lucky!

Overall, this was a valuable learning experience….. Ill keep you posted...

Volunteer to Change the World

2008-09-19T05:56:00.000-07:00

Hello outside world! I needed a quick title for this post and got this one from my wrist. That’s right! Nestled nicely in one of the MANY packages I had waiting for me in Tana was a sweet red wrist band (similar to the Yellow one Lance made famous) but mine came with the Target store logo…(Thank you United Way?) hah!

Thanks to all who sent my care packages—yesterday I polished off the last item, a jar of dark chocolate peanut butter (which my body doesn’t seem to be enjoying) but I really enjoyed eating it.

Also thanks to my family for sending love from Ocean City New Jersey- sounds like everyone had a wonderful time. One of my favorites has to be the detailed map (I think my Grandmother created) which included the beach, boardwalk, and depth of the hotel swimming pool. Priceless!

8/17/08
My IST
Quick Highlights from my IST

-Learning about Bee Keeping with Stan (APCD of Env.). Clad in a green jump suite, which was difficult to see because he was covered in bees. Anyway, the moment when he turned towards us with a huge grin and said ‘’Yea…this is bad. I need smoke’’ as he proceeded to move very slowly with arms extended to the ‘safety’ of the fire. Hah! Apparently when you don’t check the hives everyday the bees can become VERY aggressive. Let’s just say if any of us do bee keeping-we’ll check the hives everyday. I think everyone got stung at least once-they got into our pants….it was crazy…you had to see it…hah!

-Going into Safeway (a grocery store in Tana). It wasn’t just all the stuff… but also what I could do with some of the ‘trash.’ ( plastic bags, containers, cases)

-Charlie lost 25 lbs-not sure about me, but I’ve been told that I look a lot better than I did during training….?? Between Fish, peanuts, and beans—I think I eat more protein than I did in the states.

-Great Stories were shared—taboos, many awkward moments, and my favorite Charlie and Julia’s story about potatoes. (a young married couple, from New York City, she’s a lawyer and he’s a political scientist, both Irish I think…..anyway they no nothing about potatoes, but are charged with solving the mysterious potato famine in their Village--North of Madagascar…hah…it makes a great story!)

8/21/08
Welcome Back—Quick Update
I arrived at site yesterday. IST went well, it was wonderful to see everyone, exchange ideas and share tales of ‘’survival.’’ I also learned how to make a water filter out of sand, charcoal, and a bucket—cool stuff.

Judging by the smiles and laughter. I think my absence was felt. I was only gone for two weeks, but it felt like a month. Thanks to Sosony, the garden survived. In fact, I just eat a dish with fresh green beans and lettuce, both freshly picked yesterday. Mahatavy!

8/22/08
Give me…Give me…Give me…

‘’I….go….home…on…Monday’’ Soza says in real long, slow, drawn-out malagash sentence.
A long pause follows as Soza takes what feels like an eternity to root through his things. For what…? I have no idea… the awkward silence doesn’t phase him. I sit patiently watching, trying hard not to laugh at the awkwardness of the situation.

My last encounter with Soza was when I was sick and emerged from the kabone dehydrated and delusional to the sight of him loitering outside my house with the hope that I would teach him English (he lives 15k away in Mahatalaky)

‘’Ahh….etho’’ he finally takes a seat in the chair I offered him five minutes ago.
‘’Vanilla…..four…..thousand…..five…hundred…’’

I smile and tell him politely that I’m not interested in buying vanilla.
He proceeds by opening the plastic container in his hand, which contained a plastic bag, which contained an envelope, which contained a notebook and showed me the photo identification of himself and the words ‘security officer’ written in French.

He lets out a nasty cough and proceeds to take five more minutes and neatly re-packages everything back into its original container. More awkward silence follows.

He finally asks me for a cigarette explaining that he has no money. I’m not sure what to make of Soza, he still gives me feeling of distrust and a bit of suspicion. I gave him a few condoms and a toothbrush (thank you Dr. Goldstein) and told him I had to work.

People ask me for things all the time—a ball, medicine, soap, beer, coffee, money, food.

It’s difficult to feel integrated into a community when you feel like your constantly being ‘’used.’’ It may sound foolish, but I’m more than a ball, soap, and coffee or I would like to think that I am….

8/30/08
It’s like coming from High School and being dropped into Primary School—Frustrating??

Since I’ve returned to site, I’ve been enjoying the company of foreigners-Volunteers with a development program run by my NGO. Its been nice speaking English and having company during meals. But, one question is continually raised—‘’What do you do here?’’ Every time its asked I have to pause. Its not that it catches me off guard, its that I need to sort through and make sense of what it is I am doing here. Peace Corps (Env) doesn’t place you in a community with a nice clear path (with a clear outline of expectations, roles, and responsibilities). They supply you with the tools (support and skills) you can/could use to construct a path.

While trying to describe what I do to one of the guides he asked me how I handle the ‘shock’ (coming from the ‘developed’ place). He asked me ‘’Do you find it frustrating?’’
‘’Why’’ I replied.
‘’Isn’t it like being in High School and being dropped into Primary School?’’

Only frustrating if I knew all the answers or worse believed that I did, which couldn’t be further from the reality of my present situation.

9/1/08
The Outsider—Revisited

Imagine a group of complete strangers coming into your home and asking you personal questions about food. (we have a lot of food in the states, we need to regulate our consumption, and its necessary for our survival—all is true about wood from the forests around St. Luce). Where do you food shop? Home many calories should you eat a day? Is this particular product good or bad? How do you feel about Ice Cream? Do you like this particular super-market?

In the Western world we are conditioned and unaccustomed to filling out surveys—we constantly give our feedback in restaurants, fill out surveys to receive rebates, or go online to report on a company’s outstanding service—but to apply this concept to the developing world….what about cultural differences?

Peace is tow years for a reason—the first year you integrate and the second you aid in creating ‘sustainable’ (in most cases small) changes.

My NGO strated survying/interviewing locals and I’m a little ‘bitter’ about the whole situation (if you haven’t picked up on it yet) because I wasn’t included in the conversations during its creation or given any opportunity for feedback (it was created in the camp 200 meters from my house—not in the office 45k away in Ft. Dauphin). I know its perceived as being intrusive and the majority of answers are going to be ‘’What you want to hear.’’ I’m thinking it….so I’m going to write it…..Why the hell am I here!?

9/2/07
How do you sell an electronic tooth brush-in pieces without clear instructions on how it should be assembled (Cook stoves 2.0)

So, I’ve inherited the fuel effient cookstove project being pushed by my NGO. What does that mean? My NGO dropped off 20 bags of clay, gave me two people for 3 days to build cookstoves—with no clear plan, just a piece of paper with 30 names of people interested in being ‘trained.’

Before, my NGO held a training and built stoves out of cow manure, clay, and sand, but many of these broke (either not mixed well enough, or not dry enough before cooking). PC trained us on building them out of clay, wood ash, and rice hulls. Because its not rice harvest season, we don’t have any rice hulls—A key ingredient that prevents cracking. So its just wood ask and clay, but how much of each? I learned one ratio (with rice hulls), my NGO wants to use another (untested). Yesterday my training partners show up at my door unexpected with a bag of wet clay and want me to start a training, but the clay needs to be dry and sifted first to ensure an even mix. No one (myself included) knows what going on. It’s a big frustrating mess fueled by miscommunication, cultural differences, and ignorance (on both sides).

How to sell an electronic toothbrush—who really knows?

So, we’ve built seven small stoves over three days. We build one using the Peace Corps ratio and six with the instructions given by my NGO. In the past there was a perception set (by whom, no idea) that my NGO would build/fix/and maintain them. I’m working hard to break that expectation. We’ve told people not to use them until completely dry (two weeks). Gave them a clay brick to use to fill cracks and worked hard on pushing the idea that anyone can build one—you don’t need an NGO or an American to do it. They key will be durability. People will want it when they realize the time and money it can save (and reduces smoke). We even built one for my favorite coffee spot (My Starbucks) with the hope that she’ll use it and people will see her using it, thus maybe generate some interest..? (sounds nice, but as I type this her stove is in pieces L--not helping the sale!)

A positive note:
Its amazing how powerful encouragement can be. You tell someone they can do something, they do it, and tell them they did it well….Wow! Its all some people need. Jax (18 years old) had a grin from ear to ear when I told him in-front of family and friends how Mahay (capable) he was at building cookstoves. We’ve build two together and today’s was by far the best. Mahay be izy!
(As I type this Jax’s stove in still drying and in on piece—keep your figures crossed!)

9/11/08
Two brief moments out of a long day with many

‘’E mafana zaho.’’ I hear him mumble in Malagasy as I set my fangady (shovel) next to me. I look up to the sight of Kolasy wearing nothing buy children’s underwear (he’s 30), a cigarette resting between his lips and sweat dripped from his head, while huched over moving the soil around him. He paused for a moment to catch me with what had to have been a huge grin (trying not to let out a big laugh).
‘’Ino..?’’ he asks. ‘’mafana be…’’ He smiles displaying the few teeth he has.

Today I learned the ‘art’ of farming Bella Hazo (Cassava)

‘’Brendan Lee…Mitovy vazaha vo gasy apella?’’ He moves his hand back and forth on the wet clay cook stove (implying a sexual gesture..hah!). We all look at each other for a moment and burst into laughter in unison. I could have been in a high school boys locker room or back at Albright College under the turtle dome waiting for the days workout with the boys XC team. But I wasn’t…I was on the sandy floor of a one room thatched roof hut half a world away training two guys on how to build a fuel efficient cook stove.

Boys will be boys! Hah!

9/19/08
Wrap Up!
So I’m sitting in my house waiting for my ‘rice rocks’ to cool. That’s right! Rice with a lot of rocks. The women in the market ‘sold me’ on the fact that her rice didn’t have a lot of rocks. I even dipped my hand into the sack to inspect it myself—in short, I’m not good at identifying rocks in dry rice and I think that will be the last time I buy rice from someone who claims that it doesn’t have a lot of rocks.

Anyway, I’m looking forward to this trip to Fort Dauphin. A lots been going on it this small community. Volunteers (myself included) have been continually coming and going. A large group in early August studied lemurs and following them was the volunteer group I mentioned earlier. When you walk around its not common to hear the sound of hammers hitting rock—this is because rock collection has begun (the first step in the creation of a road). A project being pushed by both the Govt. and QMM (the mining company). Thus, it’s been a nightmare trying to set vague times to meet, speak, and teach people. I also just came from a big community meeting hosted by QMM about rules and regulations in the protected areas around St. Luce. Tomorrow our commune (Mahatalaky) will be getting electricity — they are having a big party — it also makes St. Luce another step closer towards getting it (inevitable because St. Luce is sited for a big mining project). I’ll post more about this later.

Anyway, its time to eat and I need to pack. Big bike ride tomorrow 45K on a sandy rocky road (need to leave early to avoid the heat of the day).

That’s all for now! Thanks for the love and support!
-Brendan

Liquid Sunshine= St. Luce doesn't need anymore

2008-08-08T01:39:00.000-07:00

It wasn’t an easy last four weeks at site. We have been receiving hard rains and a strong northern wind has made it difficult to fish. No fish = no money = no loaka (side dish). This means for most people just a bowl of white/brown rice. But even rice has become less available because of a dramatic increase in price over the last four weeks. When I fist got to site a cup of Malagasy red rice was 300Ar, now that price is 400Ar and likely to keep going up. This may not seem like much, but when you have a large family that eats 8-10 cups a day, it starts to add up. I guess it’s similar to the increase in food prices experienced in the US (the end of cheap oil = the end of cheap food). Let’s just say we have all been eating a lot more Cassava.
Enjoy!

7-10-08
The Poor as Consumers?—A Seachange in Thinking

Awhile back (about 3 weeks) I got to witness the arrival of the Protector Mobile-a condom education
Vehicle funded by PSI (Population Services International). The men working for PSI greeted and identified me as Peace Corps before I could say a word (sometimes I forget how much I standout).

They didn’t waste anytime and quickly set up a pair of speakers on the roof of their SUV, opened a few boxes in the back, and than to my amazement jumped back inside the vehicle. ‘Strange’—I thought to myself. ‘How effective can they educate from the comfort of the driver and passenger seats?’
Mahagaga zaho-boy was I in for a surprise.

First came the music, creating a bit of excitement. Then came the announcement. I understood every fourth word, but the smiles said it all. A line began to from which quickly became dysfunctional as people stormed the passenger side door with 100Ar in hand. People were eagerly paying 100Ar for a condom-the incentive? An opportunity to win a ‘Protector’ hat, wallet, condom holder, and t-shirt. The shock was that people with little were willing to pay….By creating a game and charging 100Ar, PSI managed to assign value to an object that otherwise would have been valueless to an uneducated individual. (note: winning the lottery only granted you an opportunity to answer questions on the topic of safe sex/condom use-only when answered correctly would people be given prizes).

However, if you put a condom in the hands of a small child it quickly becomes transformed into a balloon, a sling shot, or enjoyed as a chew toy (remind anyone else of the movie Coneheads?)

7-13-09
The Ocean Claims Two

(that morning) As I write this I know very little about what’s going on. Cries echo throughout the village and a large group of people have gathered at the house down the road. My assumption is that a death has occurred—but whom? I don’t know… I walked past to see if I could find someone who could explain what’s going on, what happened….A gloom has fallen over the village. The usual joyful eyes of playful children have been replaced with water filled eyes and a sorrow demeanor. I’ve decided to return to my house and keep my distance.

I really dislike this feeling a mixture of isolation, confusion, sorrow, and loneliness. The cold dampness of the day accompanied with a light drizzle only adds to the mood.

(that afternoon) The ocean claimed two lives-a capsized laka in a rough ocean is a dangerous situation even for a skilled swimmer. One was family of Sosony & Kolastant. I don’t know him well other than the daily ‘Hello’ and the one afternoon we spent together talking about fishing and building lobster traps. He leaves behind four small children.

Its not clear now who the second victim is, but tomorrow I will pay my respects in Malagasy custom to both families (mamangy)

When I was in Alaska (with AmeriCorps) I spent my 4th of July in a Park with some locals from Seaward, Alaska. A few co-workers and I became good friends rather quickly with one ‘local’ in particular and the following couple of nights we invited him to spend his evenings at our campsite near Exit Glacier. One evening after hanging out and indulging in a few drinks (myself not included-because of exhaustion from work that day), our friend got in his car and drove home from our campsite for the last time. That night he flipped his car along the dark road back into town-killing himself on impact.

My experience with death is limited, but both experiences stir-up the same mixed-up batch of emotions. Both individuals were not close enough to be unbearably painful, but close enough to feel the discomfort and share the pain experienced by others-friends/family.

7-16-08
What…?

A few times throughout each week I have moments where I think to myself…’’What the hell am I doing?’’
When I first arrived in Madagascar they were much more frequent, but as I adapt and the ‘abnormal’ becomes ‘normal’ these sudden conscious moments, epiphanies, or awakenings become less apparent during the hustle of everyday activity. An example…..

Yesterday morning as people awoke from the events of the night before (when someone dies its custom to have a wake-no sleep, lots of booze and singing). I noticed the zebu (think bull) across the road was missing. I didn’t think anything of it until that afternoon when I got a knock on my door and was handed two large slabs of zebu meat (still warm).
As an advocate for ‘local food’ my first thought was-‘wow, now that’s local.’ My second thought-‘what am I going to do with all this meat?’

7-20-08
‘’You are the sun; I am the moon; You are the words; I am the tone; Play me…..’’

Hah! I couldn’t think of a title and I just heard Mr. Neil Diamond on the radio (you would not believe the excitement this man generates-and its not just middle/older aged women).

Today as I was shifting rice (removing hulls and rocks-the sand unfortunately stays). I was thinking about some of the things I’ve become really good at over the past 3 months. Here’s a quick list (a good exercise).

1-Shifting Rice: After learning the proper way to use the shohafa, I’m getting better, almost around 30 mins for 3 cups.

2- I can clean a fish pretty darn well- not bad considering the most exposure I got to the sea and its wonderful bounty growing up was the lobster tank at the Pathmark down the street.

3-To my amazement things are growing well in my garden—True, I did volunteer on an organic farm and was a member of a CSA (community supported agriculture farm), but its still like having volunteered with habitat for humanity a few times and than told that you need to build a house—I’ve been learning a lot.

The truth is that the hour/30mins a day spent shifting rice is my least favorite time because its easy for the mind to wander and thoughts of homesickness, doubts about work and/or being productive easily creep into the forefront of thought.

No worries, for every valley has two peaks! …..Neil Diamond….hah!

7/23/08
‘’No...no…its clear to me’’

‘’What is Development? When does someone become Developed’’ Maka asked me in his broken English as we huddled around my world map while sitting on the floor of my house.

I speak English with Maka twice a week and he’s been a huge help with understanding and making sense of my new community and new environment.

When Maka asked me both those questions today images raced through my head-tall buildings, paved roads, industrial farms, people working assembly lines, Jared Diamond (this one a bit odd, but if you read the book Guns, Germs, and Steel you’d know why-he was asked a similar question by a New Guinean friend). I didn’t know where to begin? Is it even possible to explain with a limited vocabulary? The development sector isn’t even sure how development should be defined. I looked development up in my dictionary, read it to him and I wrote out three works: Happy, Healthy, and Productive. I tried to explain that while it’s easy for an outsider to think that St. Luce needs help in all three of these areas and that it is obvious from my perspective (living here for 3 months)-people are happy (despite the conditions) as well as the most productive people I have ever met.

In essence, I told him that it wasn't clear when someone reaches the point of ‘Developed’

I kept trying to explain that it isn’t clear and he kept saying ‘’no…no…its clear to me.’’ Answering his own question, ‘’I think people are ‘developed’ when they wash their hands, they don’t drink [alcohol], they don’t go to the bathroom on the beach….no…no…its clear to me.’’

The brilliance of an eager mind and the blissfulness of ignorance....a priceless moment….

7-26-08
A Cool Roof?

Last time I was in Fort Dauphin, I was with some fellow volunteers from throughout southern Madagascar watching a movie (Transformers) on a portable DVD player (The joyful wonders of the 21st century!). When out of the corner of my eye I saw a mouse scurry under a pile of books on the floor. At which point someone (I will not name-no not me) screamed. As you can imagine conversation quickly turned to all the critter encounters we have all experienced. I told the story of the rat that tormented me for two weeks, while scavenging around my house for food and built a nest in my thatched roof—at which point someone thought it was cool that I even had a thatched roof. I had never really thought about my roof as being ‘cool’ and I guess it does fit with the over romanticized image many (including myself) have before applying/committing to Peace Corps. But, the more I thought about it the more I would rather my roof was made of something different.
My roof is its own ecosystem with all sorts of things living and falling from it. Just the other day while reading a book a lizard fell on my lap (its home to roaches, some giant cricket like creature, and the recent discovery of scorpions!). When the wind blows hard it likes to cover everything with bits of palm.
No….my roof isn’t all that ‘cool.’

7-30-08
Feeling Uncomfortable—could this be my most effective tool?

The ‘stare-down,’ its defensive in American culture. When people walk by and continually stare at me without saying a word-well it gets old and becomes REALLY irritating. Yet, it’s this felling of ‘uncomfort’ that could prove to be my most effective tool as a volunteer. People stare because they are curious-curiosity means interest, and interest breeds opportunity………right?

8-3-08
Coming Up For Air

Did you ever see the movie the Poseidon Adventure? (the original ). Its one of those movies that can easily be found on a Saturday afternoon on TNT or USA. The main idea is that an ocean liner becomes flipped at sea trapping its passengers inside while submerged underwater. The story follows the adventures of a small group of passengers as they struggle to survive. One scene in particular requires the group of characters to swim submerged underwater for an extended period of time. Some jump right in and take the lead, but many of the movie’s characters have doubts, fears, and some even need to be persuaded and encouraged to make the risky plunge into the dark unknown.

This scene sums up my first 3 months at site. In many ways I feel like I’ve been holding my breath, maneuvering around countless hazards, trying to make sense of a very unfamiliar place. Constantly confronting continual doubts-am I doing enough?-am I moving fast enough?-am I going to run out of air? (Keeping with the analogy)

When I joined Peace Corps, I was given some of the best advice form a volunteer who served in New Guinea and Madagascar (helped start the SED program here). After training she told us that ‘‘this experience is ours and ours alone-no two PC experiences are close to being alike.’’

When a fellow volunteer from the south made a surprise visit my first week at site, I remember asking him how he handled the constant ‘ups’ and ‘downs’ experienced daily. He paused, gave a little laugh and told me-‘’You’ve gotta figure that one out of your own…’’ That’s what my first 3 months have been-‘figuring things out on my own.’

I now head to Tana in a few days to take in a breath of fresh air, recharge, and come back with fresh eyes and hopefully new ideas. There is one thing I am curious to discover…In the movie not everyone emerged from the swim—I hope my fellow volunteers and friends were able to beat those odds.

Thanks all for now

Vaovoa

2008-07-04T03:04:00.000-07:00

Doing this for the 2nd time...the joy of things that dont work right.

6/10/08
Comfortable being a "have"

Imagine a person moving in next door, they have a big house, they have nice things, a company car, they can buy food with ease and with the luxury of choice. Imagine being that “rich” person (me).
I’m struggling coming to terms with this reality. Everywhere I go I am watched with a continual gaze-part envy and part curiosity. My bike is like having a Land Rover when only a lucky few have a Ford-Pinto.
What is the Poverty like in St. Luce?
As mentioned before, my host family would have been one of the poorest in the community we trained in-St. Luce makes my host family seem well off.
If you’re a male you fish-good money, but the sea is unpredictable. Women care for children, farm cassava and sell extra fish and cassava to fellow villagers (family) and the porters that bring the daily fish to the main road 15k (Mahatalaky) to go to market.
The Sea is the like-line of the community. Every respectable family owns a boat. Wealth does exist here….and its more apparent the longer I live here. Some have nice cloths, larger houses, can eat a more varied diet (some could be considered overweight by US standards)
Wealth is expressed in a feeling of comfort. Peace Corps gives me a modest living allowance $24 USD a month, its small but still makes me feel like a millionaire at times.

6-11-08
Another Development Downer

If you have a toothbrush and it works-no cavities, no issues. Why would you put your life on hold to learn about a new electrical version? (Best analogy I could come up with-guess what I was doing when I came up with it?)
This is the situation my NGO found itself in today—a common experience in the “murky waters” of development.
THE SITUATION:
We want to save the forest. People cut down the forest for firewood. Introducing feul efficient cook stoves seems like a rational solution. Decrease the amount of firewood and save trees. Funding was found and the project implemented. Six people showed up for the training .

In Anthropology its called the emic vs. etic perspective (insider vs. outsider view) . What seems practical as an outsider doesn’t always take into account those you are trying to help. We know that the forest needs—Stop cutting it down! What about the people? What are their wants and needs?
After today I began to recognize that this will be a large part of my job here. Helping to bridge two very different worlds….

*Taken from the book ‘Out of Poverty”
Food for thought…..
“Sadly, the people in charge of the world’s poverty programs rarely focus on simple solutions, and the monumental investments made in poverty programs rarely focus on simple solutions, and the monumental investments make in poverty eradication initiatives have at best produced meager results.”
“We have invested a staggering $568 billion in development aid in Africa over the past 42 years and have very little to show for it”, says William Easterly, formerly a senior economist at the World Bank. Over those same 42 yrs. The per capita growth rate of the median African nation has stayed close to zero. “

Why...?

6-15-08
The Joy of Play

The children here are remarkable! I read recently a quote (from a book given to me by Mrs. Joanie Perkins) that said something along the lines that “the issue with US poverty is that the “poor” in the US have forgotten how to be “poor.” We all live in the suburbs with nice things and where more is better.
The children here don’t need Ipods, video games, or TVs, they invent their own entertainment. Here is a small list of what I’ve seen. Each can entertain for hours.
Tapy- an unripe Nato fruit with a stick through the middle. Used as a top and is spun with a rope.
Picutre drawling in the dirt (universal)
Valala- a live cricket tied to a string (think top plane, but living)
Capshill- a game played like shuffle board with old bottle caps.
Kanett- a game played with marbles (kind of like mini-golf…?)
A bombill- a stick with a bottle tied to the end-makes a neat noise when you drag it. Some have wheels.
Toy Laka- Built out of a Papaya. They play in puddles with it.
I watched a kid build a moto out of sticks (no need for Power Wheels here!)

6-17-08
A Long Day

I thought it would be a good idea to eat some greens this week and bought them from a friend—Lets just say I must have missed a step in treating them before eating them.
Being sick here is not like being sick at home. Your are alone—No TV, a pounding head makes reading difficult, body achs restricts movement (no radio). What do you do between frequent trips to the hole in the ground?
Its just my bed, the four walls of my house, the sound of shouting children (think inner-city park), a Nalgene full of salt water (oral rehydration salts), and my aches and pains.
Today I missed Home….really bad…

6-20-08
My Subsistence

“God….if I know it was going to be this bad I would have brought your some vegetables.”
-Steve, Director of Peace Corps Madagascar

Steve came for a surprise visit today to check up on things, he was in the area and took advantage by visiting volunteers in the Ft. Dauphin region. His comment above made me stop and reflect on my food situation here. My diet doesn’t get much variety but its getting better as I get more inventive the longer I am here. I have four staple food that I know I can always get, they include rice, cassava, and peanuts. Veggies are rare-I’m lucky if I can buy a green pepper at my market. Onions are really the only veg. easily found and available in St. Luce. The wonderful news is that I have a garden right now and if all goes well I should have beans, peas, onions, garlic, tomatoes, lettuce, cucumbers, potatoes, bananas, and watermelon all in a few months…..
*I’m not starving, don’t panic!
Its strange how removed you become. It took a comment like Steve’s to remind me what I have to look forward to when I go to Ft. Dauphin and Tana. By the way…I had no problems eating all that junk food he brought.

6-27-08
A Middle Class

I live on less than one US dollar a day. But I’m not the only one who has expendable income.
I was sitting reading a book by candle light when I heard the knock on the door.
“Ody Oh!...Salama eh!”
It was Kolastant.
After the standard greeting, he invited me over to his father’s house (Sasony-my counterpart).
I quickly grabbed a sweat shirt and closed/locked my door. We walked the 200 meters down the sandy road to Sasony’s. (Quickly stopping along the way so he could replenish an old coke bottle with some moonshine-homemade rum made of sugarcane)
As we approached Sasony’s house the sound of music and the hum of a generator became more prominent. I knew Sasony had just returned from Ft. Dauphin, buy I had no idea he purchased a generator. As I approached the doorway it was clearly noticeable that the room was not only lit from the warm glow of a low watt bulb, but with the smiles and laughter of everyone packed inside the small 2 room hut.
I took a seat next to Sasony in the corner. For 3 hours we sat-I danced a little to the five songs that were played on repeat. He sat motionless with a small grin while he soaked up the radiant joy of the room packed with his grandchildren. The children danced themselves to complete exhaustion.
There is a “middle class” here but its an elite. A private club with only a few lucky members. They work for my NGO (ie Sasony) , they work for the mining company, which has a small camp that employs locals as guards and caretakers, and they work for the Madagascar govt. (as school teachers, politicians, or implementers of national programs-nutrition). The small shop holders do well, but all work or have worked in one the 3 groups mentioned (that’s how they got the start-up capitol). It’s a small version of the “power elite.”
Thinking about it, maybe Jeff Sachs (economist in charge of the UN’s millennium initiative) is correct when he suggests giving everyone 500 USD as a legitimate way out of pversty. It seems that the members of the “Elite” here have been given opportunity from a 3rd party and have invested it to increase wealth. (Sasony plans on using the generator to start a little movie theater showing films for a small price).

6-29-08
My Starbucks
Since I come from a family of diehard coffee drinkers I feel it is approapriate for me to comment on my “Starbucks” a.k.a Madame Sarahfyn’s coffee.

The coffe here is an “local” as coffee can get. The coffee is farmed 80k away in the town of Ranomifana (I visited PC friends and have seen the coffee growing under the shade of Neem Trees).
Sarahfyn’s coffee is the best in St. Luce. (I have tried all) She gives the most, which as an American I like…I tell here all the time her coffee is the same as in American..Delicious! She even has pastries, small fried dough balls. All my walks usually include a visit and I usually bring a bucket along to collect her coffee ground for my garden (great compost!)

7/1/08
A call to Culture and the Guilt that Follows

I’m not sure if its because I was an anthropology major in college or I just over think things…but they thought of teaching English here makes me feel a bit guilty, like I am destroying something “unique” by helping to assimilate yet another group of people into the mono-culture of the global world.
English has been adapted by the govt. and encouraged in schools and everyone is eager to learn-I get asked at least once a day if I can teach.
One of the goals of Peace Corps is to Educate other ‘Cultures” about American Culture (the ambassador portion of my job). But I need help this task. You can help by including a cultural picture item with any mail you send. Culture is a broad term and you may be thinking….where do I begin? What would be interesting to share? I assure you that anything would help me in fulfilling this part of my job. Peace Corps already provides me with Newsweek Mags., but most of the picture are political (Picture are the best).
I just want to say Thank You. I haven’t been receiving mail since I arrived at site- two months now-and is one of the many things I need talk with PC headquarters about. Anyway, thank you friends, family and past Co-workers (United Way) for all the support! It helps in a BIG way.

7-4-08
Happy Independance Day!

I wanted to just write quickly about the progression of things here. I’m tow months at site and each passing day feels more and more comfortable. Although each day is a rollercoaster with its many peaks and valleys, overall things are good. This experience is providing me with one hell of a challenge….this is hard!
Communication/language is still a struggle. Generally they pace of things is slow and the daily routine is as unpredictable as the sea. You are always in the “hot seat.” Continually learning from mistakes, answering questions, surviving—sleep is the only real time for rest.
The cook stoves my NGO built has cracked—we think the damp weather didn’t aid in them completely drying before being used.
We planted 300 moringa trees a month ago for Env. Day most of which have died. The eight (not ten) that I planted near my house are doing real well and I’m currently building a sign and promotional poster to display near them.
I’m working with a local on deigning a t-shirt to use a s a possible fund-raiser (more details to come). Still working on logistics. I’ll post more about this later.
The garden is doing well—all my seed with the exception of Basil have germinated. My tomatoes are another story, they have developed a purple tint on the underside of the leaves and aren’t growing (a nutrient deficiency-phosphorus I think…) I’m experimenting with some organic fertilizers-urine, cow tea, kelp.
I hope to get in contact with a guy from USAID (State Dept Aid program) about a new variety of sweet potato with more nutritional benefits than the variety already being grown.
I have IST (in service training) in August and look forward to seeing friends and learning about funding opportunities for various projects.
Thank you all for the support (prayers, letters, emails, and comments) please keep them coming. Also, I have just learned that my Grandmother is going into Surgery-I don’t know any details. But thoughts and prayers are always welcome!

Thank you and until next time,
-Brendan

A Mix of Things

2008-06-06T02:53:00.000-07:00

OMG: Brendan Ward is alive and well! Praise be! Because I will not be able to post often, I started to write stuff down in a journal and post it all at once. We'll see how this goes!

5/08/08
The Welcoming

"Hey! Its wonderful to see you again."

".....you as well!" I hesitated with a response because I couldnt match the face and voice.

"Welcome to St. Luce, we are all ecited to come and watch this afternoon."

"Watch what?" I said. I was having trouble gathering my thoughts after the 2 hour car ride.

"The big town meeting." she responded

______WELCOME TO ST.LUCE!____________

"Brendan!"
"Yes Stan!" I resplied
"Yea...Im going to talk and see if I stay here tonight."
"Okay, ill wait here." The ocean breeze felt good, but even the ocean view and beach full of small fishing boats did little to calm my nerves. I was trying hard to think of anything....anything to get my mind away from the overwhelming feeling of uncomfort I was feeling.

"What the hell am I doing here?" I said outload.

"Brendan!"
Shit its Raymond the driver, it must be time. I take the opportunity to degrade myself one last time. "You idiot! I should not be here...."

I jump in the car and Stan isnt inside.
"Eza i Stan?" I ask
Raymond doesnt respond he just continues to look forward.

We drive down the road and around a few houses into the crowd slowly gathering in the center of the thatched hut village.
"oh, great!" I think to myslef. Of course the new white guy needs to be driven everywhere.
I step out of the car and curious eyes follow my everymove. We wait longer as more people gather. I try and make small talk with the kids that have gathered around me. I regurgitate some vocab, trying to put words together to make a sentance. I know it makes little sense but the kids smile.
Two chairs are placed in the front of the crowd, facing a row of chairs filled by the political power of the commune. Stan and I take are seats in front of the gazing eyes of the crowd.

"Stan, should I have prepared somthing more formal to say." I didn't help that I was sick during the lesson given on Malagasy speeches.

"Yea, no problem you do your best man."
I found little comfort in those words.

The mayor of the commune spoke first, followed by the Shef Fokatany.
After we were introduced by both men, Stan turned to tell me that he would speak first.
Thank god!

In true Malagasy fashion each man took 10 mins to make his point. I tryed hard to observe each man. The movement, the little eye contact, the tone of the voice. Was this any different than any other thing I've done--A room of trustees, of students, of non-profit reps.

=My speech in Gasy=

Ladies and Gentlemen
First I want to greet you all today. Its nice to be done training in Tana and to be living here. My name is Brendan. I'm a Peace COrps Volunteer working in the Enviornment Sector. I'm not good with the ganguage and I'm not good with the culture, but we will work and learn together (note: I mix up work and learn all the time-but both worked well in this situation). Its nice to have a new home and a new family. Nice to meet you all. Thank you.

After I spoke the crowd rumbled with laughter followed by "Miahy malagash vasa."
Stan turned to me and said " Yea, great speech man" with a grin I'll never forget.

I feeling came over me that I think only Babe the Pig can relate to from the movie Babe. At the end of the movie the farmer turns to Bade and says "That will do Pig, that will do!"

5/15/08
Where a Dilemma Meets Reality

I planted 3 morninga tree seeds next to my house, they survided maybe 24 hours before a few chickens discovered them. The solution....build a fence, its what the locals do and every garden has one. So...I borrowed an ansty from Sasony and wne t to the forest to harvest some wood.

Deforestation is a hudge issue here. Going the 15k from Mahatalaky to Amboatrika (the town I live) is a open hot grassland with few trees. (once all forested). Thus the situation is- don't build a fence and encourage people to garden-malnutrition is a big problem. Or cut down the trees that I'm here to educate the people about protecting.

I need to buy rope for my fence. I walk to Manafiafy
*Conversation in Gasy*

"Hello Sir, how much does this rope cost? (its really vine)
"400 a meter"
"Im building a fence and need something to keep the wood together"
"A fence like this one overhere?"
"Yes"
"Okay, you want to wrap the rope (vine) around like this? This rope isn't good for that, we doent have the rope you need here, this rope is for lobster fishing, you will need to buy the rope you need in Matahlaky. "
"Thank you sir!"

The only thing missing was the orange apron and it could have felt like home.

5/25/08
The closest I will ever get to Racism/Discrimination.

This is worth mentioning because its the closest I will ever get to being discriminated and feeling segregated as a white, middle class, American Male.

First, I've been living here about a month and very few people call me by name-Those that I work with and see daily may call me by name to my face buy when speaking to others about me, my name is never used.

Who am I? I'm a vasa-a name used to classify French/Europeans, but not more broadly to include all non-locals (white people)

Everywhere I go I'm watched-What is he doing? What did he buy? Where is he going?

I experience discriminization everytime I buy somthing-my weak language skills are contantly being exploited. In the market I was denied service because I wouldn't pay double for a cup of peanuts--sounds crazy but true! The goal is to fit in, live and work and be Gasy.

5-30-08
How do you first loneliness?

Last night I woke up to my foot being really really itchy. Lets just say you never feel more alone than being completely alone in the middle of the dark night having to dig out a parasitic egg sack from your foot. (my third try in four weeks to get rid of the thing). This is a feeling that is going to be common during my time here I'm afraid.

6-04-08
The Progression of Things

I want to take the opportunity to comment on my pogress here. (and to end on a good note :))

First, I feel I've done a good job making myslef visible and pople are starting to feel comfortable around me and enjoy speaking to me.

I finished the garden fence. It took awhile to gather the wood and I had a few close calls with the ansty. I should be able to fit 3-4 beds with-in the fence and plant a few fruit trees-its a good size. I even planted some tomatoes and peppers that I hope to transplant when they are mature. The soil is questionable because its sand, which means lots of compost is going to be needed!

I planted 8 moringa trees- My NGO is pushing moringa hard and I was told that promoting its use would be a large portion of my work here ( I will post more about this later). Anywho, because chickens eat everything---I had to build samll enclosures around the young trees, this means I had to go back to the forest.

I built a hot box and it works just like a thermos-bring things to a boil (rice, beans) and Vita (done)--In threory. I'm still working on the rice because you need less water-less water evaporates. It has created a lot of curiousity. (I tell people I don't need an apela (a girl) to cook for me becasue I have a Sabika Mifana, which brings a lot of smiles and laughter. Wait till they see the solar cooker I'm going to build out of my Bike Box!

Composting, Moringa, Solar Cookers....What!

Yest I have/had little to no experience doing all of the above before coming here. Being in Peace Corps is about tinkering and experimenting. Two things I can afford to do while living in this community, a luxory no one else here can do.

I'm a changed Man!

2008-04-24T04:09:00.000-07:00

Now that the chapter of my host family experience here in Madagascar is now over, it seems appropriate for me to list a few highlights (cultural indicators) from the experience that reminded me I';m not in America anymore.

1- The priceless look on my host mother's face my first night when I gave her a box of cookies and she discovered that they had been open...I got a little hungry.

2- Awkward communication with family and others in the village I wont list them. (Lost of frustration around gift giving the last few days).

3- The one year old peeing on the floor in the middle of lunch one day, and the awkward silence that followed.

4- Six-year-olds' taking care of two-year-olds'--a long way from the American daycare system.

5- Cutting a tomato and having my host mom tell me I'm really "smart." She must have had really low expectations.

6- The one-year-old playing with a knife and it was OKAY with everyone.

7- Eating whole fired little fish-for some reason a feeling of comfort came over me when I found out they fished them from the rice field...*Side note: all kinds of little edible creatures come from the rice field once rice is harvested...who knew...?

8- the mysterious light bulbs that hang from strings in a few houses, despite no electricity (I think ites a decoration/status thing)

9- Being told I look like a movie star / Prince Harry / David Beckham.

10- Hitting my head on everthing (i.e. doorways).

11- Eating lots of rice--once you accpet it, its not a meal without it.

12- The Sur'Eau bottles that began to line the shelf in the kitchen as weeks past. PC provides it to host families every week to clean cooking water and soak veggies. I was told it was being used.

13- A crazy Easter I'll never forget, known as "Mitsangasanga."

14-Putting Nicole in awkward sistuations during the first five weeks of language class--it took Fanjava a few weeks until she undertood my sense of humor.

15- On our first tech-trip Stan (the Env. PA) turning to me in the car and saying in broken English "yea...this is the enviornment" --he overheard me complaining about the roads.

16- The chicken that got in my room.

17- Cell phones -"Hello, Hello, Hello....*hang up*"

18- The intense Domie Games with the Family and Family friends.

19- The 1 pm afternoon radio soap opera.

20- the radio with one volume set at LOAD @ 4 in the morning.

In closing...I will MISS Mahitsitady.

SHOUT OUT!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BROTHER BRYAN

&

CHEERS TO JOANIE AND MIKE PERKINS...THEY ARE GETTING MARRIED THIS WEEKEND!

MISS YOU ALL!

best,
Brendan

My Site Visit--A Reality Check

2008-04-02T23:32:00.000-07:00

Just a few words regarding my site visit last week.

Last Wednesday all our couterparts (the gatekeepers to our community) were flown from all over Madagascar for a little conference PC style. They met us (PC Trainees), learned about Peace Corps and its policies. After a short (it felt short) meet and greet. I hopped on a plane to Fort Dauphin. A popular tourist site and a future mining location (strip mining for a titanium deposit used to make white dyes). My village is about 60k north of Fort Dauphin in the commune of Saite Luce, made of three small villages (Manafiafy, Ambandrika, and Ampanasantomboka). My house is in Ambandrika. Its a small fishing community, with little farming. All I saw was Cassava (a tuber plant) with the occasional pineapple. They have a great need for the introduction of vegitables(any. Mal-nutrition in rampant, and healthcare is non-existent. I spent my last morning having a cup of coffee, trying not to focus on the little girl in front of me with flies swarming here burnt arm from when she fell on the fire. The mining company built a hospital, but it hasn't seen a doctor since it was contructed a few years ago(?). My NGO built a house and latrine to help attract a doctor. Anyway, enough of this....WELCOME TO THE PEACE CORPS

My site resembles nothing like the small rice community I've been training in. The soil is sand and trees are sparse because of deforestation. My NGO is working on reforstization projects (tree planting etc.).

Good news! My house is rather large and I had an opportunity to walk the 14K to Mahatalaky on Monday to see the weekly market. I was impressed with the variety of food and should have a rather varied diet with the vegtibles I'll be growing thrown into the mix. Also, PC will give me a bike so it should only be an hour ride, rather than a 6 hour walk both ways.

I was really impressed with the communities embrace. I was under the impression that I was requested by my NGO on the community's behalf. But I met with the President of Saite Luce and the Mayor of Mahatalaky--both very supportive. I was paraded around the three villages and introduced at formal meetings (my language is still really weak-so my kobary (speech) will wait till I get installed.

In closing, I have a lot of challenges ahead and I'm still processing the last five days. I'm also a little sick. I'm eager to take advantage of my five weeks of training, so I can "hit the ground running."
Sorry about any spelling/english mistakes-I hope it makes sense, I have no time to edit!

Best,

A Day in The Life.....

2008-03-12T10:48:00.000-07:00

(typed on a french keyboard)

A glimpse into what my days look like during PC training.

My day usually begins at 5am, sometimes earlier depending on when the family gets up. I start by getting dressed, opening my shutters (all windows and doors are closed tight at night...has to do with a taboo about going out at night). My first trip is to the kabone (like an out-house, but with just a hole in the ground and two bricks for your feet) so I can empty my Po (a bucket with a lid used as a bathroom at night b/c I can\t leave my room). After I empty the Po in the Kobone, I go and grab my Tako (bucket) and make the 200m walk down a usually wet and slippery hill to the water hole, if my family has a Tako avalible I go with tow and save them one trip out of the 4 they make every morning. Going down is easy, its walking back up with two full buckets that always makes it interesting. When I get back, I re-fill my water filter and nalgene (nalgene gets two drops of Sur'Rue-Clorine). I gather my soap, bucket with the little water left, and towel and make way to the labozy (an enclosed structure for showering), stoping and picking up some left over hot water (sometimes rice water). Taking a bucket bath wasn't hard to get use to, the hard part is doing it efficiently. I think I have it down now....whcih brings up another point- Everything seems smaller in Mad-Car (chairs, doorways, all spaces really). Its not uncommon for me to hit my head 4-5 times a day, you would think I would learn. After The shower, I grab some food usually mofo vo ronono (bread and milk-fresh every morning form outback) finished with some sweet kafe. Classes run form 8am-12pm and 2-5pm covering everthing from gardening in the tropics, composting, green leguimes, agro-forestry techniques, Malagasy culture, and lanuage-and much, much more. Everthing is experiential based, which means we see it, we talk about it, and we do it. Classes usually run over in the morning and including the walk back home, usually only leaved an hour to eat rick with sometype of veg./bean before going back in the afternoon. After five, I have a little extra time with the language instructor. Im the only one learning the Atonosy dialect and my language time is split between another person-so i get half the time, but its one on one. It can also be nich after class to hand around an indulge in a conversation in english. It get frusterating only having a Malagasy vocab of a small child. Home by 6pm for dinner (rice, veg./bean again). The time spent during the meals usually consist on me pointing at things multiple times and sating "Inon ny" (What is...) My family doesn\t mind it now, but its only a matter of time until that gets real annoying. After dinner I practice vocab, sometimes we play a game-my family created a version of Uno, i think i\ll call it gasy-uno. I'm in bet by 8pm and do it all overagain....

Its still hard to grasp the idea that I\m in Madagascar, my focus has only been day to day, but it is without doubt a beautiful place!
Till Next time. I have about 20 PCVT waiting for this comp.

Velom eh!
-Brendan

In Washington DC

2008-02-18T18:27:00.000-08:00

Quick Update: Made it to Washington DC, anxiety was super high this morning but doing much better now. I even took some time to visit a few Memorials in the Nation's Capital during a run in the 60 degree weather. I'm at staging with a large group about 30 people all Environmental Volunteers with the exception of a few working in a new small business development program. Just had my first anti-malarial pill (Metloquine), the side-affects are long...but the good news is I have access to a great Medical Team. All is well! Not sure when I'll be able to post next (I shouldn't have internet for at least three weeks)Best,

My Last Weekend in the U.S. of A.

2008-02-17T11:26:00.000-08:00

I wanted to get this down before I forget anything. This past week has been wild. I was non-functional for 3 days because of a really bad cold and to top it off my last wisdom tooth started to come in.
Anyway, here are priceless moments from my last weekend in America for the next two years:

10) The look of the host/doorman's face at the authentic Italian Restaurant in Little Italy when he noticed Joe Sarno was walking-in.

9) "Its like a soccer ball," was Dan's reaction when he discovered Madagascar was an Island and not anywhere near Morocco.

8) Never making it to Hoboken (thank god).

7) Joe giving me a Gatorade the size of a small child in preparation for the two hour journey to see Johnny B. run the mile in Reading PA.

6) Pushing the gas tank empty limit further than ever before on the People's Car.

5) Coach Dude while at the Brass describing what it was like working in complete "darkness" for a year and deciding he needed to make a career change.

4) Joanie giving me a lecture on Birth Control over dinner, while Keria ate Mac n'Cheese off the table.

3) The world's ugliest Christmas vest.

2) Receiving complements at the bar while wearing the world's ugliest Christmas vest.

1) A random kid picking a fight with a dove (me) surrounded by hawks (my friends).

0) The awkwardness felt by all when Louis (random guy from the bar) discovered that Bear gave him a fake number.

-1) Discussing the formation and progression of Punk music starting with the year 1968 with Norris. It was as random as it sounds.

-2) The feeling of no control while Joe's SUV tires ripped up the AC practice field (while blasting AC/DC)

-3)Switching seats with Joe at Williamson’s Family Restaurant and as a result getting slapped in the back of the head by our waitress (Joe being Joe).

Application Process-Space Galaxy Quest Super Ride

2008-02-11T16:58:00.000-08:00

This is the best way I can explain the PC application process....
An analogy (oddly enough) that came to me while in the car going to pick-up my grandmother for a “good-bye” dinner.

Imagine being in an Amusement Park. You’re wondering through the park, people are everywhere, the sun is out, and it’s warm, kids are running around, people are laughing, everyone's happy. It's a beautiful day.

You finally make your way to Future World, where they have the most realistic space ride ever created. This was the whole reason you came to the park in the first place, to experience the new and utterly amazing Space Galaxy Quest Super Ride (the one that everyone has been raving about). The outside architecture of the building resembles a mission control headquarters, something taken right out of the movie Armageddon (the movie about preventing the asteroid from hitting the earth). Just about everyone loves that movie, and as you can imagine everyone loves this ride. As you make your way through the entrance you start to feel your adrenaline pumping, your heart rate rising, hands start to sweat, everyone around you starts speaking louder out of excitement. The inspirational music pumping through the speakers in the background helps set the mood.

You feel great! Exuberant! Excited by the fact that you are finally going to get to experience the ride everyone has been talking about. You walk through a few mock displays; an engine room, an astronaut medical test facility, and flight suit simulation-all adding to the atmosphere and setting the tone for the space flight you are about to embark on.

Your brisk walk through the "cattle shoots" designed to usher you onto the ride comes to abrupt halt. Your first impression is that the wait can't be that bad. Feeling that you have already gotten through most of the "cattle shoot" without having to stop once, you are still feeling real good about the wait. As you wait in line, the two kids from the family in-front of you are fighting about who will get to be pilot during there space exploration ride. Playing along and enticing the imaginations of friends you start to divide positions as well; the engineer, the pilot, the navigator. The line inches, you wait, you inch up further, you wait longer, it moves a little further, and you wait little longer.

After waiting in-line for 30 minutes your feet start to ache from standing, but you try not to think about it. After 45 minutes, you start to feel the novelty of the ride erode as the pain from standing in-line starts to move into your calves and hamstrings. You start to think about all the other things you could be doing with the time you are wasting waiting in-line. After an hour your hamstrings start to pull on your lower back, you begin to think about how it’s very probable that you will lose sanity if you hear that inspirational song on re-peat one more time. As you get closer to the end of the line you start to see TV monitors every few feet informing participants about safety precautions. This of course is a good thing, but after the ninth and tenth time on repeat you start to become annoyed at the overfriendly female actor pretending to be a "Flight Safety Specialist." The grin you had walking into the ride entrance has transformed into an emotionless stare. You are no longer excited you’re eager, eager to get it over with. You think about how maybe you should have just gotten some ice cream and waited for everybody on the bench out-front. At least there you'd have the sun and fresh air.

Your doubts disappear quickly, as you finally turn the corner and see the line splits. You can see all kinds of commotion ahead. Any other thoughts you had become obsolete, and you start to feel excitement again. Its load, fog and strobe lights flash every few minutes. As you inch closer a gentleman dressed in a flight suit shouts for the next group. You move forward. He tells you to pay attention; you watch a brief introduction on a flat screen monitor. A giant sliding door opens behind him. You walk into a dark room. The door closes behind you and the large group that followed. The ride finally begins.

100% Honesty

2008-02-06T15:04:00.001-08:00

Keeping with the theme. I am officially 100% nervous. The reality of the situation hit me hard today while I was cleaning and packing. It also hit hard when I received the itinerary for the in-country orientation.
The truth: Oh boy, this is going to be overwhelming!
I use to become irritated with people who would respond to the news of me joining the Peace Corps with the immediate question "you know its going to be hard, right?" The question was always intended to be harmless but after awhile it would really annoy me. As if the idea that this will be hard had never crossed my mind before , or that I had failed to completely rationalized the decision , or I had not fully conceptualize the reality of what I was volunteering to do.
The truth is that I was attracted to PC service (among many reasons) because of the challenge. The big joy accompanied with some anxiety today was getting a little glimpse of what the challenge early on is going to look like. Although the itinerary is vague it does make my stomach knot and muscles ache, a feeling I really haven't felt since having to wait for the sound of the gun moments before the start of the 4x800 at a big track meet in High School.
In an expedition you use topographical maps to follow ridge lines, scope valleys/peaks, find water sources and good camping locations. All can be done before experiencing or seeing any location along the route. We usually place a lot of trust in maps and hope they are correct. But the reality is that although we might be well prepared and everything well planned and executed. There will always be variables that are not in our control. A fallen tree, a dried up stream, an overgrown trail, the weather.
Somewhere in the middle of the spectrum between the things that are planned and those that are not, where the controllable clashes with the uncontrollable is where I find life to be not only the most enjoyable, but the most rewarding.
So, "you know its going to be hard, right?"
You better believe it will be.

The Fav. Five

2008-02-04T06:32:00.000-08:00

Through conversations with friends and family over the last few months some common questions are constantly raised about Madagascar and my term of service. Here are the answers to what I call the "Favorite Five."

1. What will you do?

I'm an Environmental Education volunteer, specific duties are still vague and they will probably remain that way until I am assigned to work in a particular community and/or partner organization. All I know is that my work will relate to National Resource Management. I could be placed in a school, working for a national park, or a local NGO. I could be developing environmental education materials, expanding eco-tourism practices and/or sharing responsible agricultural practices.

2. Do they train you?

I leave February 18th for two days of staging in Washington DC were I'll review PC practices, policies, procedures, and a few "get ready" for crazy culture shock exercises. From DC I will fly to Madagascar and begin two months of training. Training will consist of spending long days, six days a week learning/experiencing everything from Malagasy culture, developmental practices, and specific environmental issues/solutions.

3. What will you eat?

Lots of rice! Rice will be a staple, but from what I've read I should have a rather diverse diet. It’s a tropical climate and they do grow fruits and vegetables as well. I've also been told that it’s common in the Peace Corps for women to gain weight and men lose. This is because of the high carbohydrate and low protein diet. Let's just say I've been eating a lot of chicken the past few weeks.

4. Where will you live?

I'll live with a host family throughout my two months of training. From that point it depends on the community I will be matched with. Housing could be already set-up through PC or a partnering organization. I could have to find an apartment/place for rent that meets specific PC qualifications. Some placements require that the volunteer stay with a host family throughout the entire term of service. What will I need to do? Time will tell!

5. What happens when you get sick?

It’s going to happen and I'm told the first couple of months are the most difficult. Peace Corps has great support services for volunteers. I'll have access to a health team specifically for in-country PC volunteers. I'll get a physical and dental examine halfway through my term of service. I'll be taking anti-malarial drugs and have access to drugs/services needed to slay any of those pesky parasites I'll host over the next 27 months.

Not a “Fav Five,” but a common question.
What Language do they speak?

Malagasy. Its Madagascar's distinct language with influences from Indonesia, Kiswahili and Arabic (I think). Anyhow, French is also spoken in more populated areas and among the educated.

Till next time, Veloma!

Keep It Open

2008-02-03T13:55:00.001-08:00

Hello!
This was created so I can be more "open" about my experience while serving in Madagascar. Access to the internet in order to post updates will most likely be rare and my schedule for the first two months is going to be intense during training (something like 10 hours a day, 6 days a week). But I imagine that I should stubble across internet access while in larger towns when I need to go to the bank and do other chores. Part of the excitement (and anxiety) are all those unknowns. The real danger is that it allows the imagination to run wild, the trick is being able to maintain a sense of openness in order to manage and aviod any false expectations. The truth is that I have no idea what to expect and know very little about what will be expected of me.
Cheers,