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.

Maloto

A few days I started collecting materials for my compost pile. This, in itself, is a major success as it took me 6 weeks to acquire the necessary materials to begin and finish the fences for my two compost "bins." But that is a different, less interesting story. So, I'm wandering about my neighbors yards collecting leaves, small sticks, bark, grass, hay, and such to use in the pile. Along comes my "posse" of children that follow me around anytime I leave my hut (think pied piper, except in Africa, and with children, not snakes, and I'm not leading them off the island... ok maybe you shouldn't think about the pied piper...) As I'm happily collecting some leaves, one of the children interrupts me and interjects, "Malloto- Shawn" (dirty). I snicker to myself as I reflect on the cultural relativity of the concept of dirty. How naive it is for these villagers to regard sticks and leaves as dirty while plastic wrappers, bottles, and paper are carelessly tossed about the village. Why, I wonder, aren't those things "maloto."

The very next morning I'm standing in my doorway, sipping tea and enjoying the cold weather (68F). I happen to look up at two village children, ages 2 and 5. The older girl is assisting the younger one with her "personal hygiene" after what I presume was a short trip into the woods. In other words, she is wiping the younger girls posterior with a stick, which she then tosses in the shrubs. An audible grunt escapes my lips as I suddenly realize what the children meant by "maloto" the day earlier. Essentially, my compost pile is composed of 1 part cow manure, 1 part fresh brush, and 1 part village toilet paper.

Almost without fail, ever time I think I know better than the village "wisdom" I am quickly proven wrong. Damnit!

Still a noob

So I'm back in town and am checking in. I'm still doing fine. It seems a little odd that everyone noticed my post about malaria. It was mentioned in several letters, a message post? some emails, and was one of the first things out of my my Mom's mouth when I talked to her for the first time (just last month). All from just one little post. I guess you all are actually reading my site (or at least somebody did and then told everyone else). Anyway, this Malaria thing got a little out of hand. No one seems to have noticed that I only suspected I got malaria. The doctor actually said it was either malaria or food poisoning. Anyway, since you all seem interested, I write a little more about what I know of the disease.

First, it's not what your thinking. It 's rarely fatal unless you are an infant, elderly, malnourished, or extremely unlucky and live in an area where phalciparum (cerebral malaria) is abundant (I do not). Unfortunately for millions of the world's poor they often fall into one of those categories. I've been told that for most people living in the tropics, Malaria is regarded in much the same was as Americans regard the flu. That is, it is an everpresent threat of mild to severe illness, that is usually mild and is sometimes preventable (for example by avoiding mesquito ridden areas), but almost never unavoidable (sooner or later you will get malaria if you live in the tropics). Anyway, stop worrying about me dying from malaria, It almost never kills wealthy (comparatively) foreigners, who take a malaria propholaxis and have excellent access to medical care (again relatively speaking). For those of you who are sometimes disappointed by the debunking of a commonly held myth, here's a story what I gadge to realistically be the biggest danger I face here in rural Africa.

 I woke up two nights ago hearing a familiar nose- the sound of insects eating my roof. I ignored it for a while. Then I rolled over and my heart just about exploded. I flew out of bed in a panic and immediately began trying to extinguish the fire on my cooking table- next to my gas stove. I frantically tried to pull the flaming material off the table, first with my hands, then with my gigantic utility knife (sword really). Heart pounding a very real sense of life-threating danger I pulled the flaming candle wax, tablecloth and kitchen rag away from the tube connecting my 15lb NATURAL GAS CANNISTER to the stove. I then grabbed the stove and put it on the floor while dumping some filtered water on the table.

Phew- crisis averted. I managed to put everything out, however I destroyed my tablecloth and napkin and left a huge black burn mark on my table. No big deal though I spent much of the remaining night wide awake obsessively thinking what would have happened if I hadn't woken up in time. I reasoned that another few minutes and I probably would be dead.But it's no good thinking about that. Anyway, the best I can figure is that a candle I remember blowing out, had re-ingnighted (sometimes they light back up again almost immediately after going out- trick birthday cake style) melted down to the holder (half a plastic water bottle) and lit the tablecloth on fire).

So despite the scorpions and spiders, the unpredictable political climate, Malaria and numerous other tropical diseases and parasites, the most dangerous thing facing me is still my own stupidity.

Hello from Majunga

Greetings! I'm finally settling in at site. Everything is going well. I'm busy getting to know my neighbors, setting up my house, garden and compost pile, and learning the Sakalava, the dialect here. I've made several changes to the site. I updated my contact info, including a cell phone number! But unless today is the 20th of May, I'm already back at site where there is no reception. I'll try to send out an email and post on the site whenever I'm in town or know I'm going to be in town. I changed the carepackage ideas page to allow for comments so you can post if you've sent me something on the list to let other people knoz (to prevent duplicates). Lastly, there might be some new pictures posted...

I'm running out of internet time at the café so I'll leave it at that. I miss you all and I'm looking forward to hearing from you soon.

Peace Corps VOLUNTEER Shawn PBD

Today I officially swore in as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I took an oath to uphold and defend the Constitution from all enemies foreign and domestic and to fulfill my duties as a PCV. I'm not quite sure how I'll go about defending the constitution from here, but I suppose I can try. I'm back in Tana for the night then off to Majanga in the morning. I'll be dropped off at site in four days, leaving behind the English speaking world along with just about everything I've ever known to be true.

So here's something that doesn't happen in the States. Just before leaving Tana last week I awoke after a night of moderate drinking to discover the worst hangover of my life. Except the hangover didn't go away. Then I realized that I didn't have a hangover at all, but Malaria (well probably malaria). Fear not, however, because I took some meds and am feeling much better.

So what does malaria feel like, you might be wondering. Well, it's mostly characterized by an intermittent fever, chills, headache, and occasional vomiting. The most noticeable characteristic though is an overwhelming apathy replacing your normally subconscious will to live. Like most things in life, you rarely notice your will to live, until its no longer present. So anyway, moral of the story is- ... umm... was there a moral to this story? I forget.

I'm planning on getting to an internet cafe sometime in Majanga so look for a new post in the next few days. By the way, the old address will still work for now while opening a PO box. (My hut does not have an address, let alone a mailbox.