tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91640386824775723932024-03-13T23:27:39.305-05:00life on the 8th continentIf all goes according to plan, I will be in Madagascar from October 2, 2008 until December of 2010, serving as a Peace Corps volunteer. I will try to post updates on this blog as much as possible, but I have no idea what my internet access will be like... so here's to an adventure of a lifetime!Lindsay Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399046957751654567noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9164038682477572393.post-55324482468068455392009-03-13T07:06:00.002-05:002009-03-13T07:12:57.221-05:00homecomingWell, it's been real. It's been fun. But Peace Corps is leaving Madagascar for the time being. This means I'll be in the United States in a couple weeks? maybe? It's a slow process. Anyway, it's overwhelming and sad and... overwhelming. I don't know what to think or say about our evacuation. I've been frustrated and sometimes frightened by the political situation, but I don't think I ever really believed that PC Madagascar would be suspended. Now that I'm being sent home, I think about all of the friends I've made, language I've learned, and work I've done and have yet to do. I haven't even begun to scrape the surface of life in Madagascar...<br /><br />Anyway, more to come when I can process all of this :)<br /><br />amy menaraka indray! - till next time!Lindsay Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399046957751654567noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9164038682477572393.post-18554779351884713122009-03-07T00:29:00.001-06:002009-03-07T00:37:43.164-06:00Looking Forward<meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CISTUDI%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:hyphenationzone>21</w:HyphenationZone> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none; text-autospace:none; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Arial; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapedefaults ext="edit" spidmax="1026"> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapelayout ext="edit"> <o:idmap ext="edit" data="1"> </o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CISTUDI%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:hyphenationzone>21</w:HyphenationZone> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none; text-autospace:none; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Arial; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US">During my first 3 months at site, I have been primarily concerned with the future.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US">“I have only 22 months left!<span style=""> </span>That's <i style="">less </i>than 2 years!”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US">“If the Peace Corps experience was one week long, we would be coming up on midnight of the first day!”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US">But just recently I have become intrigued by the desires and expectations which brought me here to begin with.<span style=""> </span>I was reminiscing with a fellow volunteer the other day about how we started applying for Peace Corps, and we both realized that we began the application and never looked back.<span style=""> </span>I don't ever once remember thinking of applying to another job.<span style=""> </span>Now, I'm not one to believe in fate of destiny or “everything happens for a reason,” but one almost has to think that way to make it through the first couple of months of service.<span style=""> </span>Right now I'm trying to believe that somehow this life decision, to live here for 27 months of my life, is going to turn out to be completely worthwhile.<span style=""> </span>Somewhere in my mind, I know I will look back on this experience with nothing but tenderness and gratitude.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US">Already I have had flickers of light shine on the murky future.<span style=""> </span>When my 16 year old friend, Yvette, came over to my house with an officially stamped ticket inviting me to her dance performance, I realized I had won the respect and admiration of a local.<span style=""> </span>When I walked down the street today to the chorus of children shouting their many forms of “Lindsay,” I knew I was no longer a tall, scary “vazaha,” but a welcome member of the community.<span style=""> </span>(For the record my name sounds like: Wendy, Linny, Lindy, and my favorite, Lin-Chee!)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US">Stepping onto that plane leaving JFK airport, I threw my “what if” questions out the window and just trusted that Peace Corps was going to be something I could survive, even enjoy.<span style=""> </span>When I walked home with my host family, not even able to say, “So what is your name?”, I put one foot in front of the other, hoping I was going in the right direction.<span style=""> </span>And as I waved goodbye to the Peace Corps car and closed my door on the first night alone in my home, I let out a sigh and began the next 2 years of my life.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" lang="EN-US">Someone said that Peace Corps will cause you to experience your lowest lows and highest highs.<span style=""> </span>Even within one day of Peace Corps service I can feel those two extremes, but I'm realizing now what little time I have to feel these feelings and sense these surroundings.<span style=""> </span>2 years will probably not be enough, and did I mention I only have 22 months left?!<o:p></o:p></span></p> Lindsay Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399046957751654567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9164038682477572393.post-68975975554553828232009-02-18T08:15:00.000-06:002009-02-18T08:17:47.754-06:0018 Febroary 2009<br /> So after 3 weeks of being away from site, I finally get to return tomorrow. On January 26, all hell broke loose in Tana as the (now ex) mayor Andry declared himself president, and protests turned into burning and looting. The unrest spread throughout the country during the next few days, causing Peace Corps to call all volunteers into consolidation. By the 31st I was at Mantasoa, Peace Corps old training center, where between 40 and 80 volunteers (depending on the day) were held in limbo. Each day, news from Tana was different. Some days I was sure we would soon be on a plane for South Africa; other days I was mentally preparing to go back to site.<br /> <br /> But here I am now in Tamatave, buying provisions, finally checking internet, picking up mail, and other odds and ends. Going back to site is going to be challenging. As the newest volunteers in country, my health stage had only been at site a mere 7 weeks when we were yanked out. My return feels like starting all over again, and I can't help but have a sneaking suspicion that we'll be yanked out again...<br /><br /> Every day in Tana there are demonstrations, Andry's people trying to take over the ministry and convince the current president to resign. Although the violence is almost entirely confined to Tana, something has got to give sooner or later – whether Andry is arrested or the president resigns or who knows what – but this stale mate is doing nothing but upping the prices of rice and oil. Even in the past week there has been looting in Diego and Toliara, signs that people who already don't have enough money to eat are feeling an increase in desperation.<br /><br /> Fortunately for me, Tamatave has been quiet and well behaved. I hope it lasts so I can forget about this ridiculous political coup and get on with life in ambany-volo (the backwoods). My little village is, of course, safe and far removed from the dirty politics in Tana, but the moment violence spreads again, or planes stop flying, or roads are cut off, I could find myself in South Africa or even America. And from what I hear about job availability and the economy, the U.S. would not be the best place right now. These next few weeks and months will be tense, but I'm just going to try to live the quiet village life and forget about Tana. Hopefully it all works out in the end!Lindsay Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399046957751654567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9164038682477572393.post-50712383791560556182009-01-10T07:48:00.002-06:002009-01-10T07:55:10.215-06:00Think of me...Whenever you have downtime, think of me in Madagascar and what I'm doing at that very moment halfway across the world. I'll give you a hint. I'll most likely be doing one of the following :<br /><br />1. Having a laughable conversation of perpetual misunderstanding with a Malagasy person.<br /><br />2. Cooking an unappetizing concotion, usually containing potatoes or rice or pasta.<br /><br />3. Sleeping fitfully under the protection of my mosquito net, wondering if that noise is coming from a rat or a cockroach or yet another disgusting creature Madagascar has yet to reveal to me.<br /><br />4. Sitting in my bamboo chair, staring at various parts of my banana leaf and baboo house lit by a single candle, wondering if 7:30 is too early to go to bed.Lindsay Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399046957751654567noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9164038682477572393.post-64605463434737071492009-01-10T07:29:00.003-06:002009-01-10T07:47:40.235-06:006 Janvier 2009Today I gave a kabary (presentation) on clean water - add some "Sur'Eau" (bleach), set it in the sun, or boil it. Before I began, I was feeling confident and proud of the awesome poster I had made to complete the kabary. However, once I introduced myself and asked my introductory question:<br /><br /> "Can you drink the water directly from the pump?"<br /> I was met with a bunch of tired faces nodding "yes."<br /><br /> "No!" I said in horror, "There are microbes in that water that can make you sick. It's really dangerous!"<br /><br /> From that moment on, I knew my message was falling on deaf ears. One face in the crowd particularly drew my attention. I could see what she was thinking:<br /><br /> "What the world are microbes? And I don't think I'll die from drinking the water I've consumed for the last 35 years. This vazaha's stomach can't handle it, but Malagasy stomachs are different."<br /><br /> I moved on and went through my demonstrations, knowing full well that no one was going to change the way they treat their water. It's really difficult to know which health messages are the most important for me to deliver and which messages are actually going to bring about change. There's not much use in telling a group of women that they need to fully vaccinate their children when they are already at the clinic for vaccine day.<br /><br /> Don't worry. I'm not giving up hope yet. Every day is a new challenge, and every day I have something positive to reflect upon. Today it was the woman with severe diarrhea who I gave the recipe for the oral rehydration solution to. Yesterday it was a compliment I got from a vendor at a local epicerie (store) :<br /><br /> "You're learning Malagasy so quickly! And you already have way more friends than the last volunteer did."<br /><br /> Right on! That last compliment has carried its positive energy for two days now, and I realize that I may not change the life of that disbelieving woman in the audience, but my friends are another story all together. In two years I will most certainly effect their lives, hopefully changing the way they manage their health and encouraging them to spread their knowledge to others. My goal here is to improve the health status of this community, and I think I will find that my impact will be greatest, not in giving kabarys, but through seemingly ordinary, everday contact.Lindsay Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399046957751654567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9164038682477572393.post-26484119909047084772009-01-10T07:26:00.001-06:002009-01-10T07:28:45.629-06:00Ohhhhhhhh Vazaha!Not a day has gone by here in Ampasimadinika that I don't hear the word “vazaha” spoken. In Malagasy “vazaha” means “foreigner,” historically meaning a French person, but now applying to anyone obviously not Malagasy. It comes in a wide variety of forms.<br /> General Commentary : “Oh look, the vazaha speaks Gasy... that's weird.”<br /> Bad Pick-up Lines : “Ohhhhhhhh vazaha!” followed by a wink and a head jerk from a Malagasy man.<br /> Referring to Language : “When you get good enough at Malagasy, can you teach us “teny vazaha?” - vazaha language, meaning English.<br /> Discipline : “If you don't behave, the vazaha will eat you.”<br /> Describing Merchandise : “Oh, you bought the vazaha broom.” - not the typical straw tied to a stick kind.<br /> My favorite is actually the experience of another volunteer who quickly put out his cigarette, took off his hat, and bowed in reverence after noticing a passing funeral procession. Just as quickly, a man from the procession pointed excitedly and yelled, “VAZAHA! VAZAHA! VAZAHA!”<br /> It's like a nervous tick. A Malagasy person sees a white person, and as if forced by some other power, they must utter the word “vazaha,” whether it be shouted or muttered almost inaudibly. White people aren't the only ones haunted by the labels of the Malagasy. Anyone looking remotely Indian is labeled Karana. Anyone looking Asian is called Sinoa (Chinese). And anyone who looks anything like them is Malagasy, even if that person is actually American.<br /> It's no wonder the Malagasy are obsessed with that which is different; after all Madagascar is an island and poor infrastructure makes travel within the island difficult. Many Malagasy are born, grow up, work, and die on the same part of the island. If they can afford it, they will have a radio or a TV to give them a glimpse of other cultures and other kinds of people. But the stations provide little of reality and a lot of Michael Jackson, Johny Halliday, Star Academy, and Celine Dion.<br /> Although this obsessive labeling can be annoying, it's rarely to never done out of hostility and generally done out of curiosity or out of surprise at that which is out of the ordinary. I compare this to the United States where labeling is politically incorrect and someone who labels is sure to explain why they did so. With easy access to other cultures through TV, the radio, or the internet, I'm surprised at how few Americans are interested in exploring other cultures and religions and nations. We are so uninterested in that which is different from us.<br /> I ran across a quote from Terry Tempest Williams, “I have... listened, observed, and quietly formed my own opinions, in a culture that rarely asks questions because it has all the answers.” It's true. We do seem to have all the answers... for now. But with the increasing instability in this world, I think we need to start looking outside our borders for some solutions. <br /> Maybe we should take a lesson from the Malagasy and begin pointing out differences, and more importantly find out the root of those differences. I think we would discover that we are all humans living on the same planet, trying to achieve that elusive emotion : happiness.Lindsay Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399046957751654567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9164038682477572393.post-1238193250469482632008-12-31T02:58:00.002-06:002008-12-31T03:28:52.119-06:00<img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bkrySHshdX0/SVs6XWX0wVI/AAAAAAAAG6c/t3fOFLVP0IY/s200/DSCN2200.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285882760466317650" /><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">27 November 2008</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span><span style="mso-tab-count:1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Today is Thanksgiving, but here in Madagascar, it's just a regular Thursday.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I am certainly thankful that I have my fellow trainees around me to help celebrate, but I'm realizing quickly that once I'm alone at site, I'll have to find a way to keep homesickness at bay.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And finally I have a glimpse of what life in Ampasimadinika will be like; I just got back yesterday from site visit, which was definitely wild.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We left Alarobia for lake Montasoa (the old Peace Corps training site, which is a lot like a summer camp on a lake) on the weekend of the 15</span><span style="mso-text-raise:4.0pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">th</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> where we met our site counterparts.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">My counterpart is Dr. Vololona, a woman from Tamatave.</span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I first realized what a struggle my first months at site are going to be once I began speaking with her.</span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Having never worked with a volunteer before, she doesn't realize that she has to speak simply and with active verbs... none of the complex grammar makes sense in my mind yet.</span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">However, we managed to make a schedule of what we were going to do during site visit.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span><span style="mso-tab-count:1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The following Wednesday, I left for site accompanied by Dr. Vololona, Kanto, Brad, and their counterparts.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We crammed into the taxi brousse for our 8 hour ride, and being that Americans are generally at least 6 inches taller than Malagasy, the taxi brousses are not made for American comfort.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Regardless, we made it to Tamatave that evening, stayed in a hotel, and woke up the next morning to explore Tamatave – our banking town – with our counterparts as our guides.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I immediately fell in love with Tamatave; it's not as crowded and harried as Tana, meaning it actually has sidewalks more often than not.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">They also have pousee-pousses (rickshaws) in Tamatave, meaning there are less cars, less traffic, and besides, it's way more fun to travel around by pousse-pousse than by broken down taxis.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Tamatave is right on the Indian Ocean which is accompanied by a nice ocean breeze throughout the day, with temperatures around 80 degrees.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Beautiful.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span><span style="mso-tab-count:1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The next morning, Dr. Vololona and I took a taxi brousse to Ampasimadinika.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Being only and hour's drive, we arrived in no time at all, and before I knew it we were stepping off the brousse and onto the streets of Ampasimadinika.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I must admit, my first ten minutes in Amp/dinika were pure panic.</span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">All at once I realized that for the next two years I will be living alone in a house without electricity, and that I am going to be the only vazaha in town, meaning everyone will be curious about me, but no one will really be able to relate my old life.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I felt like hopping right back on that taxi-brousse and finding the next plane to America, but then I realized life in America wasn't so carefree and easy.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In fact, it was often more stressful than life has been here so far!</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Slowly the terror gave way to curiosity and excitement as I saw my new house, met the rasazy (midwife), the mayor adjoint, the pharmacist, and a whole slew of neighbors, all of whom were complementary of my Malagasy and eager to make me feel at home.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Within the first hour, I learned the word “tamana,” which means – to be used to a place, to be comfortable.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Everyone asked me, “Efa tamana anao?” - Are you already comfortable here?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span><span style="mso-tab-count:1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Later in the afternoon, Dr. Vololona, the rasazy (Holida), and I walked up the RN2 – the national highway that runs through Amp/dinika – talking to local vendors and neighbors along the way.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It's leche season right now, meaning the streets are covered with leche skins and seeds, and the harvestors are quickly picking the leches and getting them into trucks along the RN2.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">For me, that meant that every new person I met insisted on giving me a handful of leches, which are possibly the most delicious fruits I have ever eaten.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">After our excursion on the RN2, I definitely felt tamana.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span><span style="mso-tab-count:1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The next day I returned to Tamatave where I met up with Brad and Kanto at our beach bungalow hotel (20,000 Ar a night = $13.30), fully equipped with running water, a sit down toilet, a hot shower, and a beach.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We were in heaven.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">That evening we met up with other Peace Corps volunteers, some of whom have extended their stay in Madagascar, and some who have returned to Madagascar to work outside of Peace Corps.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A group of 8 of us went out on the town (safely of course – don't worry mom and pop).</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It was really good to make some new connections, especially since our training group is getting split up all over the country.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span><span style="mso-tab-count:1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">All in all, the trip renewed my motivation to work on my Malagasy, prepared me for life as the only vazaha in town, and helped me realize that when the going gets really tough, I always have Tamatave to escape to for a weekend if I need it.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The time is drawing ever nearer to when I'll be living the real Peace Corps experience, and I'm nervously ready for it.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span><span style="mso-tab-count:1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Ino vaovao any Etazonia?</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">-</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What's new in the U.S.?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">22 Decembre 2008</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span><span style="mso-tab-count:1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Today is Monday, and I've been at site for one week now.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I can't believe it's only been one week!</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Adjusting to life in Ampasimadinika has been going pretty well, but I still have quite a long way to go.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Learning how to cook for myself with limited resources, being comfortable with only speaking at an intermediate level, not having electricity, being stared at everywhere I go... they're all things that take some getting used to!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span><span style="mso-tab-count:1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Monday through Friday I work at the Centre de Sante de Base (CSB), which is a little concrete, four-room clinic located a mere 30 second walk from my house.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I arrive around 8 or 8:30 and work until all the patients have been seen, which can be 10:00am or noon.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Tuesdays and Thursdays are the busiest days, and already last Thursday I gave my first kabary (presentation) on Malaria prevention and detection.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The kabary went really well, and everyone present was extremely excited that a white girl was “mahay teny Gasy!!!” - can speak Malagasy.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">If nothing else, I get a little boost every day by how astonished people are that I can speak Malagasy.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span><span style="mso-tab-count:1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">My doctor and rasazy (midwife) and pharmacist all live right next to me and are very supportive, inviting me to mitsangitsangana (take walks) and chat about whatever I'm capable of chatting about.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Fortunately, I've also made some friends on my own, which happen to all be teenage girls.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">They come and find me every day to talk, and walk around, and laugh, and watch me cook pitifully.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I'm amazed at how hospitable and patient these girls are at ages 14-16.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">When I was that age, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have befriended a foreigner so quickly, nor taken the time to help her learn new words or clean house or wash clothes.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Every day these girls amaze me with their patience and maturity!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span><span style="mso-tab-count:1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Well my battery is about to die on my computer, so I'll have to put it away until I reach the big city for New Year's!</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bkrySHshdX0/SVs6Xy4_9UI/AAAAAAAAG6s/CC1O4YVj7XA/s1600-h/DSCN2374.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bkrySHshdX0/SVs6Xy4_9UI/AAAAAAAAG6s/CC1O4YVj7XA/s200/DSCN2374.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285882768121656642" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bkrySHshdX0/SVs6XiVqD6I/AAAAAAAAG6k/vRUay0sSank/s1600-h/DSCN2301.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bkrySHshdX0/SVs6XiVqD6I/AAAAAAAAG6k/vRUay0sSank/s200/DSCN2301.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285882763678453666" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bkrySHshdX0/SVs6XWX0wVI/AAAAAAAAG6c/t3fOFLVP0IY/s1600-h/DSCN2200.jpg"></a>Lindsay Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399046957751654567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9164038682477572393.post-75194638984173098602008-11-09T05:04:00.000-06:002008-11-09T05:05:53.500-06:00I missed you, dear internet.11 October 2008<br /><br /> It's Saturday in Alarobia, and I've officially been in Madagascar for a week. It feels more like a month. I can't believe how quickly our group has picked up the language, and yet, I can't believe how much more we have to learn. Learning Malagasy is very frustrating at times. The grammatical structure is all switched around : verb + object + adjective + subject. "I want to go to the market." = "Te handory amy tsena zaho" or "Want to go to market I." Maybe? I'm not sure if that's right or not. Regardless, putting sentences together is difficult, and comprehension is darn near impossible. My host family has to repeat questions three or four times before I finally get it, or finally give up.<br /> My host family is awesome. My host father, Guillaume, is 29, and his wife, Sylvie, is 20. Guillaume's younger brother, William (14), is living with them so he can continue going to school. They feed me well, and are very encouraging with my language. Last night, I found out that my permanent site will be Ampasimadinika, where they speak the Betsimasarika dialect. Coincidently, Guillaume speaks the Betsimasarika dialect, which makes me think that my directors knew my permanent site long before they let on.<br /> Ampasimadinika is on the east coast of Madagascar, 48K west of Tamatave(Taomasina) & located right on the RN2, the best road in Madagascar... which isn't necessarily saying much. I'll be in a 2 room house right behind the Centre de Sante de Base (CSB), which is essentially my main workplace. I'll be working alongside a midwife and a doctor, helping with family planning, prenatal care, child vaccinations, nutrition, etc. I'm supposed to analyze the community and see what health information will be most useful for improving the health status of the town.<br /> As far as adjusting to Malagasy life goes, I think I'm still in culture shock. The first night with my host family, I knew absolutely no Malagasy words beyond "I want to sleep," and "thank you." Turns out, it gets dark here at around 6:30, after which we have dinner and then go to bed around 8pm. Very refreshing, except that the bathroom (kabone) is a stand-up outhouse outside, and the Malagasy people refuse to leave their houses after dark (they're afraid of witches)... this means that after dark, I get to go to the bathroom in the "po," which is a nice little plastic bucket with a lid, located in the corner of my room. Besides the bathroom situation, life here is very simple. Peace Corps training keeps us all busy from 8am till 4:30, which leaves us little time to explore. Tomorrow we're going to take a hike and check out the mountains surrounding our village. Beyond that, I don't really know what else to do. I study, practice Malagasy, listen to music, and read books. Often after our training classes are over, my fellow volunteers and I will try out our language skills at the general stores where we buy sokolat & cracky (chocolate & crackers).<br /> My training group is awesome. There are twenty of us right now, and hopefully no one decides to ET (early termination). I'm already very attached to the idea of all of us being here for the long haul. My permanent site is relatively close to Brad's site and Jessica's site (Jessica was the first person I met from our group... interestingly enough), so I'm very happy about my proximity to them and to Tamatave, Madagascar's second major city.<br /> Every day I go from being extremely excited about living the Malagasy life and working as a health volunteer, to being homesick for the comforts of the American lifestyle. It's refreshing to be away from phones and internet, away from being imminently reachable, but the novelty will wear off soon I think. The more we talk about the responsibilities of health volunteers, the more I realize how overwhelming the job is going to be. On the one hand, there is plenty to do. I will be responsible for spreading information about proper nutrition, STI's, family planning, diarrhea prevention and treatment, upper respiratory infections, malaria, and water safety. All of these things are difficult problems to fix, considering they each require an entire change of behavior in the community I'm teaching. It's going to be up to me to be persistent in delivering information about vaccinations, nutrition, prenatal care, etc. Two years seems like a long time, but I also realize that two years in the life of my new community is very small. I have a huge task in front of me... but Peace Corps' support network is awesome. I am still thinking this was a great idea.<br /><br /><br /><br />22 Oktobra 2008<br /> Wednesdays in Alarobia are eventful; the name Alarobia means “Wednesday” in Malagasy, named as such because today is market day. At 8 this morning, Kanto, Brad, and I met our language teacher, Peta, at my house for two hours of language lessons, followed by a delicious snacky, followed by an hour of free roaming around the market place. I've become decent at bargaining with the vendors, although they automatically assume they need to use French since I'm a “vazah,” or foreigner. <br /> Being vazah in Madagascar is going to be one of the biggest challenges, I think. Although I've been living in Alarobia for three weeks now, I'm stared at the entire way to the language center and back, which is the equivalent of two city blocks away. The Malagasy townspeople are super friendly, and the store owners are oh-so-patient when us Americans come in and stumble through some Malagasy to buy snacks. Regardless, being white and blond automatically draws insane amounts of attention. The other day I said hello to my neighbor (who I'm guessing is about 7 years old), and he just grabbed my hand and bashfully started petting my skin, like it was the craziest stuff he'd ever seen. What boggles me is that we aren't the first group of PCV's to come through this town. The education group stayed here for 10 weeks during June and July! I can't imagine what site is going to be like, seeing as I'll probably be the only vazah for miles...<br /> I'm having a great time with my group, and I feel like I'm learning rapidly. There's still so far to go though. We visit our sites four weeks from now! It seems so far away, and yet so soon at the same time. Talking to current PCV's both excites me and scares me; integrating into a brand new community with a brand new language and trying to change unhealthy behaviors is a challenge I'm ready to tackle, but at the same time, it's so overwhelming. The depth of challenges I'm going to face here are infinite, and I think I would need way more than two years to actually make a sustainable impact. Our training staff is doing an awesome job of preparing us for the next two years of our lives, while at the same time, slowly easing us into living the Malagasy life. It's a change for sure!<br /><br />1 Novembra 2008<br /> It's been over a month since I've left the United States, and Madagascar is starting to feel like home. Last night we had a Halloween party at the learning center until, get this, 9 PM! Wowie wow wow was it a late night! After class got out at 3, we had an hour to get into costume (I went as Minnie Mouse), and then we began our festivities which included pumpkin carving, a delicious rum-cider punch, awesome dinner, and kareoke accompanied by some much needed THB (Three Horse Beer). It was great to have a night of relaxation and fun, and the townspeople certainly enjoyed staring at us crazy Americans dressed up in ridiculous costumes. People were honestly crowding around the entrance of the learning center just to peek in and see what we were up to... a little awkward to say the least.<br /> Since our training is so scheduled Monday through Saturday morning, I feel like the weekends are the only real taste of what life in Madagascar is actually going to be like. I finally bought a phone in Antananarivo (Tana) this past week, so I was able to text my friend Kelly and hang out with her this afternoon. Today is definitely one of those days where I ask myself, “What on Earth am I going to do with myself for two years?” Life is so much slower here. I can't just hop in a car and drive to the Twin Cities and go shopping or plop in front of the TV or sit in front of my computer for hours, which is certainly a great thing. However, figuring out how to entertain myself during my downtime (which I think I'll have plenty of) is going to be a real challenge. The prospect of learning how to live simply and sustainably is exciting, in theory, but staying sane is going to be the real kicker. :)<br /> After lunch I went down to the river with Sylvie to manasa lamba (wash clothes). I take my basket of dirty clothes, a bar of soap, and some powder detergent, and wash each item by hand. There's no washboard or anything, just my soap, my clothing, and my hands. Honestly, I feel like my clothes have never been cleaner, but I think they're also going to be destroyed within 6 months since handwashing is so hard on them. Good thing you can buy secondhand clothes at market for next to nothing! Get this: I bought my phone for $10. I can buy a pineapple for a quarter. A 40 oz beer is a dollar. In Ambatomanga, the town neighboring Alarobia, you can get excellent cheeze for $2.50. Life here is cheap! And pretty much all of the food comes from area farmers, except for the precessed foods you can get at the little shops in town. I'm hoping that my house will have an area for me to start my own garden, since Eastern Madagascar is rainy and hot and just about anything grows like weeds. I'm imagining insane amounts of delicious vegetables and tropical fruits, and of course rice, you can't forget rice (for breakfast lunch and dinner...).<br /> Language is coming along nicely, but I think I'm hitting the plateau phase of my learning curve. Now I need to focus on getting the words I know to come out of my mouth properly. On Thursday, our training group was split up into three groups, and my group was assigned to the CSB here in Alarobia. Each of us had to pick a topic and give a kabary (speech) to whomever was at the clinic. Well, when we got there, we found each of our host-mothers lined up outside, waiting with breath abated for our first kabary. Now these speeches were essentially a joke, since our language skills are nowhere near allowing us to communicate effectively with a participating crowd, however, having our host-mothers/sisters/brothers etc. there was great. When I was done giving my talk on vaccinations, I asked if there were any questions and willed strongly that there would be none. But my host mom raised her hand and asked very slowly, pronouncing each word carefully, “What is the vaccine ATR for?” And I was able to tell her that it was for mumps, and the crowd was wowed that I was able to understand and reply properly to a question. Man, is certainly is the little things that can make or break your day here in Madagascar...<br /> Well, if you're still reading this post, congrats to you. I miss you all very much. Let me know if you want to come visit me in this wild country! I promise it will be a vacation you won't easily forget! Remember to bring toilet paper and.... that's about it.... just toilet paper.Lindsay Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399046957751654567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9164038682477572393.post-84506625238986234062008-09-27T15:20:00.002-05:002008-09-27T15:35:48.697-05:00peace corps-in' out!I leave tomorrow for Philadelphia where I will be attending orientation events and meeting my fellow Peace Corps volunteers. There are times when I still can't believe that I'm actually doing this, calling myself crazy for leaving my family and friends for so long; most of the time, however, I can barely wait to arrive in Madagascar and begin my new existence as a PCV.<br /><br />Once in Madagascar, I will begin training, which involves living with a host family and attending language lessons. On December 10th I have my swearing-in ceremony, and then it's off to my village/town/hut, wherever the Peace Corps decides I will be most effective. Regardless, I will be working as a health care educator, assessing the needs of my community and presenting health information to my community members. It should be a wild ride!<br /><br />Please send me letters of love. I am going to miss you all so so much!<br /><br />Wish me luck!Lindsay Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399046957751654567noreply@blogger.com3