Through my lens (part 6)

It’s been almost five months since I left Madagascar. Now, I’m on the verge of starting the next chapter of my story and wanted to take a look back at some of my final experiences in Madagascar. It was one hell of a ride.

Stopping to bathe and laugh at a waterfall along the Tsiribihina River

A few students from the English Club in Andapa

A young child and her sister wait in line for food during an exhumation in Mantasoa

Sharing a communal meal of rice and fatty pork during an exhumation celebration in Mantasoa

Villagers gather around a tomb and distinguished family members give a speech of thanks during a traditional exhumation in Mantasoa

Preparing for Thanksgiving 2016 in Fianarantsoa

Mountains meet the ocean in Ft. Dauphin

Cows and young men resting in a dry river bed in Tsihombe

View of central Antananarivo as storm clouds roll in around sunset

Teamwork is essential when installing a new solar panel at a Volunteer’s house near Ambatondrazaka

Killer, one of two dogs who live at the Peace Corps Training Center in Mantasoa

View of Mantasoa, the small village where every Peace Corps Madagascar Trainee begins their journey. This was taken on my final visit to town

Saying goodbye to my close friends from Andapa. (L-R) Johnny, Soa, and their baby, Alexander.

 

7 ways Madagascar prepared me to travel in India

When a Peace Corps Volunteer finishes his or her service, it’s referred to as COS (Close of Service). And it’s very common for Volunteers to celebrate their accomplishments and embrace their new freedom by taking a COS trip. Usually it’s an adventure to transition between life abroad and a new life in America.

When I COS’ed at the end of September, I knew I had another adventure waiting for me in India. I had planned a month of traveling in the world’s second most populated country as a way to mark the end of three years in Madagascar and to help me begin the transition from rural Malagasy life to bustling and modern American life. As I began traveling in India, I noticed many things that reminded me of life in Madagascar. I also realized that if it hadn’t been for my previous experiences in Madagascar, I would have most likely reacted to these new Indian experiences differently and possibly developed a more negative outlook of the country because I would have been more uncomfortable in these new settings.

Like many things in life, we normalize ides as they become routine. As they become more routine and common, we tend to be unfazed by their relative difference or shock, as perceived by others who are less familiar. When I kept having moments in India where I thought, “hey, this reminds me a lot of Madagascar,” I knew something was changing inside of me. When I could step out of my mind and realize that what I was feeling about Madagascar was happening right before my eyes in India, I felt compelled to start a running list and share it with my readers.

In no particular order or significance, these are the seven ways that I believe Madagascar prepared me to be a better traveler in India:

1. Trash and road conditions

In India, there’s a lot of trash. I won’t get into the why or how of it, but trust me—there’s trash seemingly everywhere. It can smell, it can look unpleasant, it can be overwhelming. But I had been living in similar circumstances in Madagascar, so it wasn’t as much of a shock to me in India. Without a lot of public infrastructure to deal with trash in either country, it piles up along the streets and in open fields or plots of land.

Other aspects of India’s infrastructure, specifically roads, seemed downright pristine in my eyes. Coming from a country where if you’re lucky enough to have a paved road it probably has a bunch of potholes, to a country where almost every street is paved AND has lanes painted was a real treat for me. I was visibly smiling for the first few days whenever I got into a car, while on the other hand, my friends and other travelers looked more nervous or put off by their perceived low quality of Indian roads.

2. Challenging creature comforts

More than once in India, I had a thought that was along the lines of “this toilet is disgusting, but at least it’s not as bad as a kabone (pit latrine)!” In many of the Indian toilets I used, there are even these cool butt hoses to use instead of toilet paper. Whether it was an air conditioning unit that was out of order, a television that only had 2 channels, or a sub-par Wi-Fi connection, I was coming from a place where those things were considered luxury items and I could deal without them. Some of my fellow travelers felt a little more…entitled…to these things than I was.

3. Long drives and travel times

Getting around India is relatively easy, efficient, and affordable, in my eyes. There are lots of car or bus options, as well as a connected rail system. So when I would meet other travelers who complained about 4+ hours traveling on a bus in India, I had very little sympathy. In Madagascar, what you are told will be an easy 3 hour taxi-brousse ride often turns into a 7+ hour ordeal on an old minivan held together with duct tape where you’re crammed in between two sweaty Malagasy people, chickens nipping at your ankles from under the seat, and music blasting in your face as you fly down a windy road riddled with potholes and stray cows. Sounds charming, right? On the flip side, in India, a comparable journey takes place in a well maintained commercial bus with assigned seating, air conditioning, and a reliable travel time because the roads are predictable. While I met some travelers who dreaded the idea of a 4 hour train ride in India, I was excited because it would probably comfortably cover more distance in less time than other options in Madagascar.

4. Language barriers

Almost every Indian person that I met spoke at least basic English and many people were advanced speakers. Coming from a country where few people outside of my students or work colleagues spoke any English, I was overjoyed that I could speak so freely with almost anyone in India. The tricky part was adapting to the Indian accents and vocabulary. I frequently found myself searching for linguistic common ground, something I was very used to doing in Madagascar. Rephrasing questions, using simple vocabulary, or just surrendering to the idea that I would remain partially clueless during a conversation—these were skills that I learned in Madagascar and easily transferred to India. Non-verbal communication in India was another idea I had to adapt to, where something as simple as the direction or force of your head nod can speak volumes above the actual words you utter.

5. Trust

At many times during my travels in India, locals and other travelers would give me unsolicited advice about maintaining my personal safety and health. When my initial reaction to these ideas was “Duh, of course that makes sense,” I knew that I had a skill set from Madagascar that I was starting to take for granted: street smarts in the developing world. Whether it was dealing with pushy taxi drivers, street vendors, children begging for money, or being in crowded unfamiliar places, I trusted myself and those around me like I did in Madagascar. It wasn’t entirely new for someone to try to take advantage of me because I am a foreigner, so I tried to keep that in the back of my mind. Dealing with similar situations in Madagascar helped me recognize, and mitigate, them in India.

6. Being a good passenger

In both Madagascar and India, people drive very differently than they do in America. I would describe their approach to driving as doing whatever the driver wants while making sure there is a small buffer of safety around the car. In America, driving lanes, posted speed limits, and rules of the road are all generally accepted and obeyed by drivers. In Madagascar and India, these things feel like mere suggestions. It was not uncommon for me to be a passenger in a Malagasy car when the driver would try to pass a slower car on a two-lane highway while coming within a few feet of oncoming traffic before darting back into the original lane. After a few instances of this, I learned to calm down, trust the driver, and basically surrender to the idea that either everything would be fine or I’d be involved in a massively horrific vehicle accident. This also meant I was already prepared for the same behavior from drivers in India. While other passengers winced or gasped as we crossed into oncoming traffic or came within inches of hitting a stray cow in the street, I tended to remain present in conversations or gazing out the window like nothing was happening.

7. Cash based economy

In Madagascar, cash is by far and away the primary monetary tool. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I saw a credit card machine in the three years I lived there. In India, cards are slightly more prevalent but cash is still the best way to get around. I was used to being conscious of how many small denomination bills I had in Madagascar, because breaking large bills in the countryside was nearly impossible. Those same instincts kicked in while I was in India, so I was very comfortable living day to day with cash.

A few extra things that surprised me about India

• In the south (Kerala, from my experience), there are more churches and cathedrals than I expected. Many of them were ornately decorated and flashy.
• Billboard advertising is extremely common—everything from political coalitions to the newest smartphone with an impressive selfie camera.
• Most Indian men have a full thick head of gorgeous hair. I definitely experienced some hair envy.
• Women dressed in beautifully designed and colored saree as everyday clothing. Much like the Malagasy lambahoany, I never saw the same saree design twice.
• Unexpected warmth, hospitality, curiosity, and helpfulness of local people. I could go on for days discussing this, as it also reminded me of the nature of most Malagasy people.
• More than just stray cats and dogs—cows, goats, monkeys, and donkeys are commonly wandering the streets of India like they own the place.
• Vehicle traffic, congestion, car horns, and aggressiveness really got to me after a while, eventually becoming a full on auditory assault.
• Air pollution is much worse than I anticipated. On some evenings, the sun set behind a layer of pollution before it reached the actual horizon.
• A fine appreciation of electrical outlets—availability in cafes and restaurants, placement near beds, and a convenient switch to turn the outlet on or off. This made traveling and charging devices so easy!

Overall, I absolutely loved traveling in India and I would go back in a heartbeat. The people, the food, the history, the natural beauty, and the spiritual magnetism were all so accessible and kept me in a constant state of awe. I don’t think I would’ve had the same positive experience if I didn’t get help organizing my trip from the great team at India Someday. I can’t recommend them enough and they made my first trip to India feel less intimidating and smooth. Please check out their website for more info, especially if you’re planning a trip to India in the future. And you should go, right after you visit Madagascar!

Through the Eyes of Another

Perspective is something that I think comes up often in Peace Corps. Our outlooks on work, relationships, family, behavior, and comfort are all developing through the experiences that we have as Volunteers. When the things that were once new and unique become routine and common, having an opportunity to reflect on our frame of reference can be refreshing and illuminating.

Recently, I was afforded an opportunity to re-examine my own perspectives when my cousin came to visit Madagascar. I was beyond thrilled that he was willing and interested in making the long journey to such a different place. I was also a little nervous about how he would adapt to the realities of the country and how I would handle the responsibilities of sharing my second home with him. In the end, I was impressed with both of our attitudes and experiences.

During some of our conversations and daily activities, our individual views of Madagascar were cast in somewhat new light. Old habits were questioned. New assumptions were disproved. Sharing some of our ideas and conversations might be helpful in creating a more complete picture of this challenging, beautiful, diverse, and fascinating country.

Taking in the sunset over Antananarivo

Sanitary Conditions

American and Malagasy manifestations of cleanliness are often quite different. One such area that we discussed was food. Safe food preparation is something that I take for granted now, having practiced it in my own Malagasy kitchen for the last three years. But it was a skill that my cousin wasn’t used to applying and he made some valid comments about what he observed during his travels.

The amount of flies buzzing around our meals and landing on the raw meats in the butchers’ stalls seemed to be something that he noticed often, whereas I was mostly oblivious to them. I’ve become used to those sights over the years, accepting them as a natural part of life.

Another sight that I’ve become almost numb to is the amount of trash piled up throughout the country, but my cousin was acutely aware of this. Without the infrastructure of trash collection as we know it in America, most Malagasy people discard of trash on their own, either in pits where the trash is burned or it accumulates on along the roads or in side alleys.

Butcher stall in Mahajanga

Infrastructure 

It’s no secret that the infrastructure of roads, cities, and transportation in Madagascar leaves a lot to be desired by Western standards. It works just fine for Malagasy people, which is something I’ve had three years to learn about and adapt to, whereas my cousin was quickly introduced to the idea of a “good” Malagasy road. If the road is lucky enough to be paved, it also comes with numerous potholes and deviations, which makes for a rather bumpy and jolting car ride. Unpaved roads are a whole other story. While I don’t particularly enjoy this aspect of traveling in Madagascar, I’ve accepted it as the reality.

So when my cousin spent a few days on the road with me, we had plenty of time to talk about the nature of infrastructure, it’s relationship to the overall development of the country, and comparisons between his commute in Los Angeles and my typical 10 hour route in Madagascar.

Thrilled to be on another taxi brousse

Effectiveness of Peace Corps

Throughout my service, I’ve grappled with the perceived lasting impacts of my work in Madagascar and thought a lot about how effective I can be and how to even measure success as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Is it the number of students who can pass an exam in my English class or the quality of the routine conversations that I have with community members? Have I achieved my goals when I can produce tangible evidence or when I well up with pride thinking about the people I’ve come to know during my service?

When my cousin asked me if I thought the Peace Corps is a worthwhile investment of American time and money, I confidently affirmed that it is and supported that with a more qualitative response. In addition to the outcomes of collaborating with communities who request help from Peace Corps, I see immense value in the amount of people Peace Corps Volunteers interact with and exchange culture with. Then he asked me how I would answer the same question if a member of Congress had asked me during a review of the Peace Corps budget, and I realized that it was more difficult to frame my thoughts in terms of data and line items in a budget. Both sides of the question are valid and our organization needs to be able to justify itself to different stakeholders.

Having my cousin there to see the country firsthand, meet some of the people, and get a small glimpse into the work that we do as Volunteers was a great opportunity to spark that conversation and take another look at how we evaluate our successes and failures.

Expectations and Assumptions

If you come to a place like Madagascar and stay for even a couple of weeks without being frustrated, emotionally assaulted, or severely confused…I desperately want to know your secret. To paraphrase Charles Dickens, this country has bent and broken me into the person I am today. From those experiences, I have learned to abandon almost all expectations and assumptions about how things should or will happen. My cousin, on the other hand, has not been as twisted by Madagascar as I have.

Things such as a “free WiFi” sign in a shop mean nothing to me anymore, because I have learned from the disappointment that 9.5 times out of 10 there is no WiFi, but they seemed to hold a fair amount of hope in the eyes of my cousin. I don’t expect these things anymore, that way I am happily surprised when they are available.

Similarly, just because something is printed on the restaurant menu doesn’t mean it actually exists in the restaurant. I don’t assume this anymore, because I have again been disappointed too many times before. My cousin, however, encountered a few situations where he learned this lesson the hard way and had his dreams of pizza or parmesan cheese squashed by the reality of Madagascar.

I also don’t assume that just because something worked once before that it will work again with any consistency. This only brings me more frustration when things happen differently every time I try to do them. Again, I think my cousin’s assumptions of consistency were challenged on multiple occasions during his visit and this gave way to some insightful conversations.

Maybe a little ambitious to assume that this restaurant could serve up our dreams

The Big Takeaway

Looking back at the overall experience, I am very proud and satisfied by how both my cousin and I handled our shared adventures in Madagascar. He impressed me with his patience and willingness to be put in unfamiliar situations. He respectfully shared his opinions when they arose and asked questions to better understand some situations. I was relieved that I didn’t expose him to anything that made him sick and I was honest about my opinions and experiences. Seeing Madagascar through my cousin’s eyes has been a truly memorable experience.

We laughed (a lot), we tackled some complex discussions, we learned from each other, and we created more memories together. I’m grateful that he had the means and time to visit Madagascar and that he can help me share the country with others.

Overlooking a beautiful canyon in Ankaranfantsika National Park

Bittersweet

If you’re a bit surprised to be reading this, I completely understand and I’m also a little surprised to have written again. Without going into the details of why I’ve been absent from writing and updating this blog for the past few months, I’ll just say that I have been happily focused on other projects and activities here in Madagascar. I’ve had my head down, concentrating on work, for the better part of the last five months.

And as I take a moment now to lift my head, it appears that my time in this country is coming to a rapid end. By the end of this week, I will finish my service as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Madagascar.

As insane as that sentence feels to say out loud, it doesn’t change the fact that this chapter of my journey is coming to an end. Of course, I have some feelings about it.

When people have asked me in recent months whether or not I’m ready to leave Madagascar, my answer is never very direct. Some days, I can’t wait to get off this island, eat a hamburger, and enjoy the comforts of America. Other days, I want to hold on to Madagascar a little bit more and I want to savor every sunset or plate of rice here. It’s a dance of emotions that twirls in my soul.

The best way I can describe my feelings about leaving Madagascar is “bittersweet.”

The sweetness of all those beautiful moments and people I have experienced here during the last 3 years. Scenery that has moved me. People who have touched my heart and taught me so much. Work that has challenged and fulfilled me. I’m so proud of the things I have accomplished here, the transformation I have made into the person I am now, and the future I have started to build for myself.

The bitterness of leaving all those things. Some of the close relationships and achievements will indeed remain with me for a very long time. Most of the things that make me happy here, will stay here after I leave. Many of my friends, neighbors, and colleagues will stay here. The places I enjoy visiting, the food I look forward to eating, the sights and smells of my life will all stay here.

Memories can last, but they’re never quite the same.

I can’t think of any regrets or hesitations I have about leaving Madagascar, which I believe means my departure will be on good terms. This country, these people, this opportunity to serve have all given me much more than I could ever hope to give to them. Although my eyes might glisten or my voice might shake as I leave Madagascar, I know in my heart that I am immensely grateful for this experience.

The water filter

Side view of my water filter

This is my water filter. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

My water filter is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.

Without me, my water filter is empty. Without my water filter, I am thirsty. I must filter and chlorinate my water before drinking it. I must filter out dirt, sand, and parasites that are trying to give me giardiasis. I must chlorinate after filtration to kill any remaining viruses and bacteria.

Before the PCMO (Peace Corps Medical Officer), I swear this creed. My water filter and I are the defenders of my gastrointestinal health. We are the masters of our liquid consumption. We are the saviors of my life.

So be it, until clean water is mine and there is no dehydration, but my thirst is quenched!

-Adapted from the Rifleman’s Creed

In Madagascar, and I would venture to say all other Peace Corps countries, each Volunteer is given a water filter to use in preparing potable water. Within days of arriving in Madagascar, I was practicing safe water preparation and getting used to filling up my water filter every few days. It’s a relatively simple, yet vital, part of my experience and something that most of my readers might not be familiar with.

The water filter that I use consists of two chambers, one stacked on top of the other. After I get water from a local source (public pump, well, faucet, etc.), I pour it into the top chamber which contains two ceramic filters. As the water slowly gets filtered, it drips into the bottom chamber. The water in this reservoir is fairly clean, but still not ideal for drinking yet. This is because the ceramic candles are able to filter out macro-organisms, but there are rare micro-organisms that can still be present after filtration. The final step in the process is to chlorinate the water, essentially killing off any remaining harmful entities. For every liter of water, I must add 3 drops of chlorine.

A look inside the top chamber of my water filter, showing the two ceramic filters

Examples of a clean (left) and dirty (right) ceramic filter. The filters need to be cleaned with an old toothbrush periodically to remove dirt, sand, and other debris leftover from the source water

With proper maintenance, this water filter will last for my entire length of service. I use it every day that I am at home for drinking water, cooking, and cleaning certain foods. When traveling, I take other water safety measures. This filtration system is highly effective and so far I haven’t been sick from contaminated water (knock on wood!).

While this is a great option for clean water at home, check out this video for another Peace Corps style DIY charcoal water filter.

Business meets adventure in the mysterious Sud Est

There are a handful of regions in Madagascar that hold an alluring mystique. Whether it is because these places are isolated in the deep countryside, tucked away off distant coastlines, or nearly impossible to reach by conventional means. The Sud Est (South East) is one of those regions. In my mind, it is an untamed and legendary place down on the eastern coast of the country. The Volunteers in that area exhibit a cultish loyalty to all things Sud Est and are extremely proud to call it their home. They shamelessly uphold traditions from Volunteers that served in the area generations ago, which is part of why it feels so different than other regions. It’s a part of Madagascar that I’ve wanted to visit for a while, but it takes some real dedication to make the arduous journey. Passing through a wide range of landscapes and enduring hundreds of kilometers of open road, anyone with a healthy sense of curiosity and ample amounts of patience can put their travel skills to the test with a visit to the Sud Est.

As luck would have it, one of our Peace Corps Medical Officers recently invited me to accompany her on a trip to this fabled land. The purpose of the mission was to visit health care facilities in the region in order to asses what medical services are available (or more accurately, what isn’t available) and to update contact information for physicians and clinics. We visited some current Volunteers along the route and got a taste of the mystifying Sud Est culture. Through this visit, I learned a lot about healthcare in Madagascar, enjoyed the beautifully diverse scenery of the area, and gained a better appreciation for the hard work that our Volunteers are focused on.

Map of the area covered during this trip. Ignore the comically optimistic travel time estimate, because clearly Google doesn’t understand driving in Madagascar.

The statistics of the trip are telling of our work. During five days, we covered more than 723 kilometers (450 miles) roundtrip from Fianarantsoa headed east toward Mananjary, then south to Manakara and Farafangana, and all the way back to Fianarantsoa. Our team visited 11 healthcare facilities including rural outpatient clinics, private Catholic hospitals, and large government hospitals. This allowed us to see a varying range of care levels and meet with a number of dedicated doctors and nurses. We also got to see 11 Volunteers in their communities, which was a special look into the realities that they live in every day.

National Road 25 winding through the densely forested mountains between Ranomafana and the rest of the Sud Est

Covering as much ground as we did gave us the opportunity to see many stunning terrains. From the onset, the road from Fianarantsoa glides through the highlands countryside, with sprawling rice paddies laying at the base of formidable rocky mountains. As we approached Ranomafana, the scenery changed to steep hillsides covered in thick rainforest. There were quite a few landslide areas along the road leftover from Cyclone Enawo and the subsequent heavy rains. Continuing down the windy road to the east, we passed the Vatovavy mountain. This gorgeous massif is part of the region’s namesake, Vatovavy-Fitovinany (Female Rock-Seven Estuaries). From Mananjary south through Manakara and further on to Farafangana, the road mostly runs parallel to the coastline and offers occasional views of the Indian Ocean. On the more inland portions of road, the landscape is a mixture of heavily deforested hillsides, scrublands, gorgeous rolling hills covered in nothing but soft grass, pine trees, and iconic Malagasy Ravenala. 

View of the landscape surrounding the Vatovavy mountain (center)

Grassy hills from a portion of the inland road

While visiting the various healthcare facilities, there were some noticeable differences between private clinics and government posts. For the most part, the private establishments were funded by religious organizations that could provide a much more robust source of income compared to the government. This is where we saw the more advanced medical equipment, the larger laboratories, the most patients, and the proper amount of staff to make it all work. The government buildings were more likely to be in a disheveled state, the equipment was more likely to be out of date, and the facilities sometimes lacked qualified personnel to offer specialized care. Another aspect that I noticed across the board was the fact that despite a tremendous number of patients and their families coming to the facilities, none of the hospital staff seemed to be in any particular rush. I don’t mean to say they were being lazy or inconsiderate to the patients, but they all appeared to have a calm and methodical focus to providing compassionate care. The doctors that we met humbly took us on tours of the clinics and proudly showed off whatever equipment and laboratory space was available.

A kitschy beachside bungalow hotel in Mananjary

For me, the most rewarding aspect of this whole trip was the chance to visit other Volunteers in their communities. Every site where a Volunteer lives and works is unique, so seeing these locations first hand allows me to better support Volunteers and advocate at the administrative level on their behalf. During the five days of travel, we met with Volunteers from all three project sectors (Health, Education, and Agriculture), saw almost all of their houses, met many of their friends and work counterparts, and learned a great deal about their experiences. I was impressed by how tamana (settled, well adjusted) these Volunteers are and how well integrated into the community they have become. The Malagasy work partners that we met all had great things to say about their Volunteers and they were so delighted to talk about the positive outcomes of working with an American. In one particular village, the timing of our visit happened to coincide with an official opening ceremony of a clean water project that a Volunteer had been working on. We attended most of the ceremony, witnessed a government official conduct a ribbon cutting, and celebrated the culmination of a fantastic community collaboration.

Visiting a Volunteer in his community

New water tower, as part of the community water project

New showers for the maternity ward in a rural clinic, as part of the community water project

No matter where we visited, it was obvious how each Volunteer has become a real part of the village family and how their Malagasy peers have gone the extra mile to make their American neighbor feel right at home. Further proof that if you are willing, Madagascar can steal your heart.

It’s not all sunshine and rainbows

Lately, I know my writing has been less than desirable. Infrequent blog posts, sometimes feeling like I’m reaching for topics, and just generally not being satisfied with my work. I’m not happy with what I’m putting out there and I do want to change. When I think about what’s going on, I constantly come back around to feeling uninspired and lacking motivation. And when I think about other areas of my life that are also feeling “off” lately, those same feelings spill over. I know we all experience emotional highs and lows, although in differing intensities and frequencies, but I thought about writing a piece to dig into some common emotions I’ve been experiencing in recent months. Part self-therapy, part window into something I don’t talk about regularly, this is an attempt to show that there’s more to this experience than the shiny, happy, fun adventures. And that’s fine.

A night blooming Cereus cactus from the garden near my home

I chose to extend my service for an extra year and I had visions of being actively involved in the inner workings of a large development agency. I imagined juggling multiple projects simultaneously and playing an important role in field activities. While those expectations have become the reality to some degree, most of the time I feel as though I’ve set myself up for being dissatisfied. If the previous two years of living and working in Madagascar had taught me anything, it was to lower my expectations dramatically. But here I am, feeling as though I had created somewhat arbitrary goals for myself and now I’m grasping to achieve them. Surely, this is a common element of Peace Corps work and I believe that many of my peers wrestle with constantly redefining expectations. Perhaps I am still learning my niche in new surroundings so that I can concentrate my energy somewhere more satisfying.

When I was teaching English, my work felt more structured and goal-oriented than it does in my current position. There was something constructive to do almost every day, something to make me feel like I didn’t just wake up only to wait all day for the sun to go down so I could go back to sleep again. Nowadays, it’s difficult for me to see the purpose or direction in my work, and that makes it very hard to find motivation. As a teacher, going to class felt like a worthwhile activity. As a third year Volunteer, my purpose has been less clear. I am motivated by some aspects of my role, namely supporting other Volunteers and contributing to trainings, but sometimes it feels difficult to focus on those things and do them with a vigor that I can be proud of.

Before starting my current position, I was very excited about moving to a new place—a bigger city, nonetheless—and starting fresh. A whole year in a new place was going to be my chance to practice the local dialect more, meet new people, see different parts of the country, and learn from my previous experiences to better integrate into this new community. Toward the end of my time in my former site, there were things that I wish I had done differently in my community, but I felt like having a clean slate in a different place would be an easy chance to redeem myself. I’m not sure what’s been holding me back from satisfying these social desires. I’m finding myself getting stuck in routines of the city, walking the same roads to get to the same places, and not feeling the mutual warmth that I expected would open up new conversations and friendships.

I know it’s not all sunshine and rainbows here. I’m not asking for that. I just want to feel some purpose again. I want to feel like I’m not just floating around in this experience until my stint in Madagascar is up. I’m afraid of looking back at this time and recognizing too much of it was wasted or underutilized. I’ll continue to search for the next step, to be open to the next unexpected connection, and to be mindful of my place in this experience.

Sewing seeds of change

Celebrating a successful two years of service in Andapa with close friends who also happen to be local English teachers

Living in Madagascar for more than two years has afforded me the opportunity to integrate into a local community and see beyond the superficial aspects of community issues. Under the surface, there are various realities, values, and norms that collide to create the world in which we live in. The same is true of issues in America (and really, any other country). Addressing community issues can be complex, daunting, and even emotionally draining at times, but remaining hopeful is a necessary part of the development process. Change is no easy feat to accomplish, and I’ve observed a few aspects of this process that are essential to making a real impact and creating lasting, positive change.

In my experience, there is tremendous value in being a willing observer before developing a strategy of change. I believe that too often people jump into a situation and get right to work with a narrow understanding of the underlying issues. This is especially true in a cross-cultural setting. I have learned so much by observing the context of my community before offering solutions based on my own pre-conceived ideas. My cultural upbringing and experience allows me to see the world in a particular way, and that’s not always the best approach in a different cultural reality. Lasting progress means learning about the community first and adapting ideas to the local realities.

Coming from a western culture that places value in timely and measurable achievement, it’s important to remind ourselves that change and progress often come in small increments. This idea took me a while to come to terms with. It’s not uncommon for me to share a plan of action with colleagues only to be told that there are actually many more smaller actions that need to take place in order for our project to move forward. Yet, each time these seemingly annoying “setbacks” help me change my own frame of reference when working in the community. Baby steps are still headed in the direction of positive change.

“We plant the seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development.” -excerpt from Archbishop Oscar Romero Prayer

We don’t always see the change that we work so hard to promote. It usually comes later on, maybe years later, after we leave a place. This has been one of the central ideas that I cling to when I question the effectiveness of my work. Maybe a student doesn’t fully understand a lesson today, and that is sometimes frustrating in the moment, but hopefully my approach in the classroom will encourage them to continue studying long after they have left my class. Maybe a community member doesn’t fully recognize the value of a new practice today, but hopefully through repetition and integration into their lives they will come to know the benefits.  The process of sustainable change never really ends, but recognizing our small contributions to this worthy endeavor can give us the hope necessary to continue moving forward.

This post was inspired by BloggingAbroad.org. Click the image to learn more.

Seasonal produce: litchi

Alright folks, this is what we have been waiting for all year: litchi season.

A bowl of unpeeled litchis

These small, red, rough-skinned spheres of sweet juicy heaven are being shuffled to all corners of Madagascar this time of year. Towns and villages become littered with discarded litchi skins and seeds as people enjoy them on the go; an obvious signal that the best part of the seasonal fruit year has arrived. The tropical fruit, native to south-east China, grows best in the warm humid climates along the eastern coast of Madagascar. Litchi trees grow large and can produce may kilos of fruit. Due to the relatively short season of litchis, about 4-6 weeks, the fruit is highly sought after and quickly enjoyed while it lasts.

A litchi tree in the countryside near Andapa

Portion of a litchi tree near Andapa

I had never tasted a fresh litchi before coming to Madagascar, so I had to be taught by local children how to eat them. The outside of the fruit is covered by a red, roughly textured skin that must be peeled away to reveal the translucent white flesh. Then, simply pop the fruit into your mouth, remove the flesh from the dark brown seed, and spit out the seed. You’ll likely be hooked after your first taste of the fragrant and sweet fruit, which will lead to consuming at least one kilo each sitting.

A bowl of peeled litchis. Photo credit: @danie.fock

In the markets of Fianarantsoa right now, I can buy 1 kilo (2.2 pounds) of litchis for 500 Ariary (about $0.15). That’s insanely cheap for such an instant and satisfying sugar high. In many parts of the eastern coastal regions, it’s very common to go out into the countryside with friends and get litchis right from the trees growing around a family’s house. When I was living in Andapa, some of the English teachers that I worked with would invite me to teach with them in their countryside villages and then they would give me kilos of fresh litchis to bring back home. Whether I bought them in the market or got them from a friend, bringing home litchis has been an exciting new experience for me. I really enjoy sitting in the shade outside, snacking on some litchis, and watching the world go by.

A woman selling litchis in Fianarantsoa

In some areas of the east coast, litchis are such an important part of the local culture and economy that they celebrate the fruit with street parades and other festivities. While visiting Tamatave this past weekend, some friends and I stumbled upon a litchi parade complete with drummers, dancing, costumes, and lots of singing students. It was an exciting and unexpected treat to watch people basically throw a huge party for this delicious little fruit!

Students, dressed in festive colors and litchi branches, sing during a street parade in Tamatave

As litchi season comes to an inevitable end soon, I know I’ll be out in the markets looking to get my hands on this special fruit for as long as possible. Eating the last litchi of the season is always somewhat sad, marking the conclusion of a gluttonous feeding frenzy, but it also starts the mental countdown until next year’s season.

Trying to contain my excitement about litchis

Welcome to my house

Now that I’ve finally settled into my new house, I’d like to invite you to check it out! I made this short video to not only show off my real estate skills, but to share my home. I’ve incorporated a lot of my personal belongings from America, items from my former site in Andapa, and new items from the local Fianarantsoa area. Enjoy!

While this is not the typical standard of living for Peace Corps Volunteers in Madagascar, I feel it is a realistic portrayal of living standards in a large Malagasy city.