Checking In

Hello all. So no good stories this time, just a note to let you all know I'm still alive and well. I'm back in Majunga for work and pizza, though not simultaneously.

Ok, maybe one story, but it's not so exciting, so don't get your hopes up. I made the mistake of letting a French documentary film maker follow me around for a few days. The first day was fine, though I wasn't too excited about the added attention brought on by the camera and another Vaza in the village. At the end of the day I politely informed him that the next day I would be working mostly alone or doing paperwork in my hut. So when he showed up on the second day offering to hire some villagers to pretend to do some work with me I really decided I'd had enough. I told him I wasn't feeling well and had to get some rest. I then hid in my hut, cursing myself for ever agreeing to cooperate in the first place and feeling like an idiot for hiding in my hut when I should have just told him that I was no longer comfortable with the arrangement. I suppose I didn't tell him this because I had let him buy me drinks at the hotel the night before... wait that sounds worse than it is... nothing happened! He was a married man for god sakes! Anyway, I eventually ventured out of my hut, making sure to look both ways for any errant Frenchies. But after hearing from some villagers how suspicious and frustrated they were with the Frenchie for pestering them with his strange camera and then for not paying them anything, I took some consolation in not continuing to traipsing around the village with him anymore. The few villagers I told about my "sickness" thought it was hilarious and seemed to take comfort in the apparently new knowledge that even white people don't always get along with each other.

In other news, it appears that the United States of America has gone to hell lately. What in god's name is going on? Two seats open up on the Supreme Court, Hurricane Katrina wreaks havoc, and Dick Cheney moves to Maryland. The BBC makes it sound as though New Orleans has turned into Mogadishu with refugees running about everywhere, police having shoot outs with lutters, and bodies lying in the streets. Say it ain't true?

 I miss you all. Write me letters- gogogo!

You do what exactly??

So many of you have written me and asked about my work here. I think much of the confusion comes from my ambiguity about my job description before I left. The truth is that at the time I really didn't know what I'd be doing except for the very broad terms like "sustainable development" and "community resource management." Actually, even once I got to my site I wasn't all that sure of exactly the kind of projects I'd be pursuing. Even now it seems that every week of so I discover next information that leads me to radically change my ideas about what is would be possible and/or helpful in my village. However, as of late I think I have a pretty good idea of what I'm going to attempt.

Right now my first priority is public health and sanitation. I have made some contacts with some health NGOs (non-governmental organisations) in Mahajunga and have started selling mosquito nets, over-the-counter medicine (like anti-malarials, and de-worming treatments) and water treatment supplies. In a few weeks I have arranged to have Population Services International (an American NGO) come to my village to train 3 village women how to sell these products. In a few months I hope to have a doctor pass through the village to write prescriptions for Birth Control for the village women. After that happens, the women will be able to sell birth control products. Additionally, I just received a spring scale from the hospital that I will use to start a baby-weighing program. The idea here is that by tracking a child's weight you can estimate his health and nutritional status and be able to spot problems such as worms or malnutrition before they become a major problem. This program should also give me a chance to regularly talk to the villagers about the importance of nutrition, sanitation, and family planning.

Also, I am beginning the process of applying for a grant to build 2 wells in the village. Currently, half the villagers are fetching their water from a spring located near the center of a fetid swamp where cows graze, mosquitoes breed, human feces are washed, and water born diseases plot evil things. After the wells are built, I would like to get some funding to build several sanitary blocs- a building which combines an outhouse with facilities to take a bucket bath and basins for washing clothes.

For any of you wondering what all this has to do with the environment, I reply- everything. Lack of birth control leads to rapidly increasing pressure on forests and forest resources, while high-child mortality increases the incentive to have more children (because some are expected to die, families compensate by having more). High incidents of illness keep people from working and therefore having the economic freedom to experiment with new ideas, such as new, different, and less resource intensive methods of earning a living. Additionally, lack of access to outhouses increases the prevalence of disease both in humans and wildlife, and is an obstacle to eco-tourism (important since a luxury hotel is under construction just outside the village).

In addition to health and sanitation, I'd like to experiment with income generating activities such as rabbit raising, patch sewing, tree nurseries, eco-tours, and individual and community gardens. However these projects are the ones that have proven most difficult to plan and work through. So, for the time being I will focus on the projects described above.

So there you go. Now y'all can stop lying to your friends about me replanting forests, building hotels, and training lemurs to sew baskets.

Izay

Buggs and friends

It could be argued that I'm beginning to lose my civility. Take for example, last week during In Service Training (a week long reunion / training session with the volunteers in my stage) when I slaughtered an innocent, furry, white bunny rabbit. I bludgeoned him over the head with a small stick, made an incision on his thigh and then proceeded to turn him inside out, separating the clean white fur from the slimy carcass.

I did this because I'm thinking of starting a rabbit raising project at site. Rabbits are an excellent source of protein and income. A fully grown rabbit (they mature in 4 months) can fetch up to 5,000 Ariary (2.50 USD) in the market, which is the equivalent of 2 days work for a healthy adult male. I'm particularly interested in teaching the families, whose sole occupation is cutting the forest for charcoal production, how to raise rabbits. I figure that the more income they generate the more flexible they will become with trying new occupations and weaning off charcoal. Also, there are days when my friends in the village have nothing to eat but rice because the men didn't catch any fish that day. Having some tasty rabbits to eat would certainly alleviate this problem. Certainly it's better to murder Buggs and Thumper than to have families go to bed without supper.

Only problem is that no one seems to be selling rabbits in Majunga. The thought of a 12 hour bush taxi ride with a two rabbits on my lap does not appeal to me. After all, what if I get attached to the cute little guys. I suppose I can always have a neighbor do the killing for me.

Crabs

So, reading over my last few entrees, it occurs to me that it may appear to the reader that my experience here has been little more than a string of calamites. Though not too far from the truth, in my defence I would like to say that my mistakes are simply much more fun to write about and, I assume for you to read about. However, I will refrain from truly setting the record straight with a story of grand triumph and success just yet. And yes it's because I can't think of any grand triumphs. But instead, I'll continue with my previous theme. Ineptitude.

Occasionally, I have been able to get crabs in my village. Mangrove crabs. The greatest crabs in all the world. I feel a bit of guilt in proclaiming this, coming from the great crab state as I do. But truth and  justice requires me to assert that Malagasy Mangrove crabs are the most spectacular crabs ever to scamper the ocean. They are gigantic, the large ones can grow to the size of the steering wheel in a 1991 toyata corolla (that is to say large for a crab, but small for a steering wheel). They are full of delicious meat so that just 2 or 3 can fill even a large apatite. In case you are still not in awe of these crabs, I shall note that even the legs (not the claws, the legs) can be cracked open in two places to find a mouthful of meat.

Ok, so the crabs are big. BUT, they are also dirty. And, as they should be since they live in the mud under mangrove trees (mangroves are aquatic trees, BTW). So before one can cook them, one must clean them. This is no easy task. First they are really filthy, second they are dangerous. While the claws on them are probably not strong enough to take off a finger, I imagine that getting clawed would be a bit like getting your finger caught in the door jam of an automobile. So, first thing one must do is pull off the big claw (they each have just one huge
claw and one minor one). This can be done with a little leverage combined with some courage. After this, a scrub brush can be safely used to remove the mud. Additionally, a little detergent can be used to really cut through the dirt and give the crabs a nice orange luster.

Once clean, one needs only steam the crabs, add some old bay, and enjoy. Unless of course, one is dumb enough to have used detergent to clean the crabs. As most of you probably know, when  water with even a little detergent is boiled, it produces bubbles. Lots of bubbles. So it was a truly bad idea to run to my outhouse just after the water started to boil. I returned to my hut to find more bubbles on my cooking table and covering the floor than Bert and Ernie could have ever wished for. Fortunately, Monesa, my neighbor/best friend/clothes washer, arrived just in time to laugh hysterically, call over more neighbors, and help me clean up.

Insomnia

Lately, I've been having trouble sleeping. Not because of the heat (although it's damn hot), or the fear of some nasty little insect invaders mounting a counter attack while I sleep (although I am sure that their evil plotting continues), nor because of homesickness or loneliness. None of these things are keeping me awake, not so much because I have adapted and overcome them, but rather because they can't compete with the discotheque.

Ha! You weren't expecting that were you. Neither was I. Who could have imagined that I would leave the noise and restlessness of a college campus in DC only to find my remote african village infested with many of the same sounds (including Britney Spears). But as I have come to learn, two industrious and entrepreneurial villagers have created quite a nightlife in the midst of a relatively un-populated desert coast. First there was a 'movie theater,' that is, a hut with a TV, VCD player, generator, and a small collection of Malagasy music videos and Kung Fo classics (actually, I don't know if they are classics, but they are old, or maybe just bad quality). Then there was another movie theater, but with bigger speakers. Then there was the Discotheque. A Friday through Sunday marathon of music, dancing, bare-knuckles boxing (though no one ever seems to get hurt), and moonshine drinking all inclosed in a large, rectangular, beach front animal corral (literally) that is reinforced with plastic tarps to prevent peeking by those who haven't payed the cover charge. This event is made possible by a cd player, 3 mammoth and blown-out speakers, 4 light bulbs, a megaphone, and a generator. I'm not making this up... that would be impossible.

The first night the disco went until 6:15 AM. I didn't attend as I was still enjoying the final suspenseful laps of a 3 daylong Intestinapolis 500. So instead, I lay in bed cursing the god that brought all of me, the discotheque, and "I'm a Barbie Girl, in a Barbie World..." together all in the same village.

Tomorrow, I suppose I'll do the only thing possible to keep from losing my sanity- join the party. And maybe I'll bring some of my own CDs.