Love at First Site?

Happy to be out of Tana, the ride to my site was as blissful as could be. The drive was beautiful; mountains and valleys of rice fields filled the landscape, the red dirt made the land pop contrasting with the deep green of the fields and forests. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the clouds were puffy and my heart was content as I stared out the window heading toward my new home. Even the bumpy 11 hour drive couldn't deter my uplifted spirit. The further north we went the more rural and African-esk the the drive became. This was exactly what I had wanted for my site. Around supper time we pulled up to my village and hopped off the taxi brousse and went to my host family's house. I was shown my room where I was welcomed by another women and two teenagers- a boy and a girl. I think somehow everyone was related but I couldn't understand all the connections. My host mom then left to fix dinner and the rest of us stared in silence not sure what to say to one another. This is when reality set in. This is happening. I'm in Madagascar, in a village, by myself, with no other Americans. From here on out for the rest of the night that blissful contented feeling was no where to be found. I was back to square one with meeting a new family and living in a new town and I was completely overwhelmed. Dinner was quiet and awkward and then it was time for bed. It wasn't until I was under the covers when I heard the first buzz of a mosquito (ugh) I had comoletely forgotten about putting up my mosquito net. As I looked around though I realized there wasn't a way for me to hang it anywhere. I tried to ignore the mosquitos for a while but to no avail; I was an open target and eventually I became desperate and  just wrapped the net over myself and hoped for the best. It was hot and stuffy and had a weird smell but it beat the thought of malaria. (Ugh again!) I realized I had also forgotten to take my malaria medicine and so I unwrapped myself again hoping this would be my last interruption before falling asleep. I was wrong. Throughout the whole night dogs sounded like they were fighting right outside my window, pigs sounded like they were being castrated in the room next to mine and there were unidentified scratching noises coming from the roof, birds? Bats? Rats? I couldn't tell. Meanwhile the whole weight of what I had gotten myself into fell heavily on my head. So there I was, lying in this unfamiliar place, with these unfamiliar people, with a mosquito net acting as my comforter. What a start to an interesting week.  Who knows what other misadventures lie ahead of me.

That was Saturday. Sunday came and went without any real mishaps. My host mom is wonderful and my brother knows a little English and is eager to help me learn Malagasy. Monday then I had planned to meet with the director of the association I would he teaching at. The form I received about my site said that it was an association for ill treated women. When I got there though the class meeting had adult males and females in their early 20s I'd say. I was a little confused about this but hoped I'd get it figured out later. I talked with the director for a bit and she showed me the curriculum and explained I was going to help with the students pronunciations when I taught here. She showed me the curriculum and then took me to a little office, opened up to lesson 1 and said something about me doing a presentation for the students. (Uh...what?!?) Much of our conversation I didn't understand but like I've said in a previous post, I sometimes just have to take little bits of what I think I know and run with it so there I was sitting in this office all alone creating a lesson plan. She said she would give me 40 minutes. (It took about 10 based on what the curriculum was saying to do). Also I should add, we haven't done any training yet on how to teach English, all of that is happening once we get  back from our visit...

So basically long story short, I go to this class, the director leaves me there alone with this class full of students and I proceed to give the lesson. When I was done I leave and go look for the director thinking my job was done for the day but apparently it wasn't long enough because we go back in, sit at the front of the classroom where she has each of them (in English) tell me about their daily routine which apparently she had wanted me to fix their pronunciations as they went but my jaw was too low on the floor during all this to say anything because I had been under the impression based on what I had been told about the association is that students here wouldn't have had any exposure to English and would be at the most basic level of learning English. The class then had a Q and A time where (in English) they asked more about who I was and why I was there. Mind you all of this happened after I had just given a lesson on how to say hello, my name is, and nice to meet you... After talking with the director again I found out the association is actually a professional development school similar to a university and these students do in fact know quite a bit of English. So much so that one student raised his hand and asked if I'm single. (This was yet another time I just had to roll with the punches). I didn't answer but said that I was there to teach and only teach, but as most of you reading this probably know, sternness isn't my strong suit so who knows whether that message really got across to them or not. It had caught me completely off guard so come December life could get real interesting. But of course my adventures didn't end there.

Later that day I went to visit the mayor of my town and introduce myself so he knew a "vezah" would be living there. During our meeting for the fourth time that day, he also asked if I was married or had a sipa* and then from what I understood he told me he had three wives. (Three women were coming in and out of the house and each one he claimed was his wife/sipa- which just to clarify is not legal in Madagascar but I'm not one to tell that to my new mayor...) All of this was being discussed while we were drinking tea and breaking bread together (I felt like a royal guest). He also asked to take a picture with me because he wanted and I quote, "a souvenir" (Like I've said, life here is interesting). I left the meeting utterly confused but then asked my host mom if he was joking about the whole 3 wives thing and she said he was (whew, apparently my Malagasy sarcasm game needs some work). We then walked around the market where I am still the center of attention and was asked half a dozen more times if I have a sipa. It was after this that I decided that when I come back for good I will in fact have gotten a "sipa" while I was gone (we were told girls should probably tell people that we do anyway but I'm a terrible lier and I didn't realize how often I'd get asked).

I think this week was my first real experience of culture shock. I couldn't walk down the street without getting called vazah everywhere I went or getting asked if I have a sipa or getting spoken to in French and having to explain that I was actually American and spoke English and a little Malagasy. I think I came into this week thinking that, like my ride over here everything would be easy and pure bliss and that I would automatically fall in love with my site. But I should have known better; good things take time and slowly but surely as the week progressed little moments would occur where living here didn't feel as completely overwhelming. It was the times in the market (every single time) that my host mom would introduce me to people and correct them that I wasn't a vezah and that I would be living here with them (she is such an incredible lady). It was the times when I then began to be greeted by my name rather than vezah and I could tell people were trying to make me feel comfortable (tamana). It was the first time I went to my school and I saw it sitting in front of a beautiful mountain and a soccer field right in front of it and I realized how wonderful walking to school would be every day. It was the same conversations with my mom and brother where I was understanding what was being said and just felt so cared for by them. It was the exchanges between my brothers and I as they taught me Malagasy and I taught them English (and I told them about tacos and promised to make them once I returned!). It was the time playing soccer with a group of kids and gaining their trust and friendship. It was all these little moments and more added up that by the end if the week I realized I really do love this place and the way it continually challenges me and pushes me further out of my comfort zone. I was completely overwhelmed at first, and frankly still  a bit, but there's so much good and wonderful people here that I can't wait to spend the next two years living here. What a journey!