7 important things I learned during my homestay

1. I am now a professional frisbee player. I brought a frisbee as a gift to my Malagasy family when I arrived, and although at first we couldn’t communicate in Malagasy or English, we could play frisbee. I learned a lot from that frisbee! Including how to count in Malagasy!
2. I am especially challenged at fetching water. I fell so many times that my family eventually wouldn’t let me fetch water by myself anymore. One time 2 of my cousins, saw me fall while they were looking out of their window. They then spoke to me in English and said “Hi, Erin! How are you?!” I was embarrassed and surprised because this was the only time they ever spoke English to me. Thankfully I didn’t spill any water, but I still had a long walk to fetch the water and carry it back up the hill as blood dripped down my leg. That story made it all the way around town by the time lunch was over and everyone except for me thought it was hilarious.
3. I am probably the worst mpanasa lamba (clothes washer) in all of Madagascar. Fortunately my Neny helped me the first time and sh tried to teach me. My sister volunteered to help me the second time so I shared my precious chocolate with almonds as a small thank you.
4. I learned how to cook over fire… but I’m definitely not mahay (very good/skilled). I’m so glad I get a propane stove!
5. I’m horrible at explaining things in the US using Malagasy. This is much harder than it seems… I’d like you to try and explain how a dishwasher works to someone who washes dishes in a bucket without running water in a foreign language you are trying to learn. I’m pretty sure the only two thoughts Neny had after my explanation was 1) she is absolutely crazy and 2) is there a tiny person inside of the box that washes the dishes?
6. How to eat chicken with bones. Neny made it her personal mission to teach me how to eat other parts of the chicken besides the white meat. She would put pieces of dark meat on my plate (usually with small feathers still in the skin) and reward me with the white meat after I finished my portion of dark meat. I can now say I’ve successfully eaten my fair share of dark meat and tiny feathers!
7. But the most important thing I learned was about love. I learned that family is more than just who you happen to share your genetic code with. I will never forget the time Neny told me she loved me the same as her other 4 children, and that she would do anything to take care of me. And the best part is, she meant it. When she made my favorite Malagasy foods and she asked me if I liked it to which I would respond “tena tsara” (very good) or “tena tiako” (I like it a lot) she would say “I know!” with a big smile on her face. And the one day I was very ill in bed and couldn’t eat, she made ramen just for me and brought it to me in bed. The rest of my family showed their love in other ways. My brother took it upon himself to educate me in Malagasy music, while my sisters all took on the responsibility of teaching me as much Malagasy as my brain could absorb. Dada is incredible at fixing things and helped me in every way he could. When my SIM card didn’t fit in my phone, he made it happen. And when I wanted a clock that had moving hands so I could teach 6th grade, he made an incredible contraption that worked!

I fetched water from the bottom of this hill!

Neny and Dada

You want me to do what, with what?

I feel like this is something that goes through my head all the time… 

You want me to do what with my food?

We have to rinse, soak, peel, and cook all of our food… or forget it. And unfortunately the water isn’t much easier - you have to fetch it from a hole in the ground that’s not close to home, wait a few hours for it to filter, then add bleach. I love drinking water that tastes like a swimming pool!

You want me to do what with that chicken?

Oh, no problem! I can take it from it’s coop, kneel on its wings while I tie its feet together so we can kill it, and eat it later. Although I may name it, take photos with it, and hold it in my arms like a baby in the meantime… Yes, the LCFs (Language/Culture Teachers) may have laughed at me…

You want me to do what with that lamba hoany? 

They somehow wrap beautiful cloths around as a dress and manage to not have it unravel… I still haven’t figured this one out, but I sure hope mine doesn’t fall down in front of the Ambassador on Friday at swearing in…

You want me to do what with my hips?! 

I started learning a traditional Northern Malagasy dance last week for swearing in. And I’m sorry, but there is absolutely no way I will ever figure out the feet, with the hip rolls, and then dancing with a partner on top of all of that … Apparently they picked the easiest one to learn, but I highly doubt that. At least every Malagasy that watches swearing in on tv will be able to laugh!

But I think the most profound question I asked only 3 days after getting off the plane was - You want me to do what with my nonexistent Malagasy?! I will never forget the panic I had when I realized that they would be dropping me off in the middle of Mantasoa on a Saturday to live with my homestay family for the weekend and then the next 6 weeks. I wasn’t quite sure how I would survive for a day and a half until we had class on Monday morning much less the full six weeks. But I did, I made it, and I even made it all the way through training!

Here’s a glimpse into the daily life of my homestay. I lived with my Neny (Mom), Dada, brother, and 3 sisters. They taught me a lot about life in Madagascar including Malagasy food, Malagasy culture, holidays, and how to really appreciate the small things in life. 

Life in Mantasoa was simple. Breakfast was at 6 am and usually consisted of some fried bread or rice with peanut butter. Then I swept my room and sometimes took a bucket shower in the ladosy before language class began at 8. Class ended at noon so I walked home for lunch which was rice with a loaka (side dish) and a salad. (My favorites were the zuchhini with ground beef and the carrot salad). Then I would try to help with dishes, although usually Neny wouldn't let me, before heading back to class at 2. Class ended at 5:30 and then it was back home where I either studied, sat by the fire with Neny while she cooked, or played Skip-Bo (the best game ever) with my family before dinner. (Dinner was always more rice often served with pasta or french fries and maybe another loaka. Yes, sometimes we ate the carb trifecta where we had all 3). After dinner I made sure to take my malaria prophylaxis, brush my teeth, and be in bed by 8. Sometimes I would read or do homework by headlamp, but usually I was exhausted and asleep by 8:30. 

Although I loved having a routine, homestay was still filled with many firsts and an abundance of surprises. Most shocking to everyone is probably that I slept on average 9 or 10 hours a night. I’ve never slept that much in my entire life! I took my first bucket shower in an outdoor ladosy and used my first kabone. I had 4 cows, 3 pigs, 2 ducks, 2 dogs, 2 cats, and more chickens than I could count. A few surprises included actually having a little bit of electricity, finding out that our baby cow lives on the first story of the house, and that the chickens like to climb our ladder to the second story to jump off of the veranda. There was never a dull moment at my home in Mantasoa! 

Even with the firsts and the surprises, the best part about homestay was how much better our communication became over time. As my vocabulary expanded so did our conversations. The simple questions of asking “what time is class?” turned into “who is your teacher?” and then eventually I could talk about what I learned in my classes that day. By the end of homestay I could express my opinions, talk about American culture, talk about the environment and the deforestation happening in our community, as well as the importance of gender equality. Although I learned more from them than I will ever fully comprehend, it was nice to finally be able to reciprocate the learning in a small way as my language improved. And when the 6 weeks of homestay were finished I left in tears because I wasn’t ready to leave my new family I had come to love. So in response to my own question of - You want me to do what with my nonexistent Malagasy? I can now say that Peace Corps wanted me to look beyond the language barrier and simply love.

My Malagasy Home

Oomby Kely

Me tying up the chicken!

My Malagasy family including my mom, brother, sisters, and cousins!

The End of My Birthday Week...

After the bonfire, smores, and Madagascar vanilla cake last weekend, I can now say my birthday week has officially concluded! My birthday packages finally arrived! I was so filled with joy, I almost cried. Sometimes things come right when you need them, and that was most definitely the case yesterday. I have been suffering from some GI problems for the past few weeks (don’t panic, I’ll be okay, and yes my mother is already aware…) and Saturday I hit a point where I just couldn’t deal with the daily pain anymore, but an hour later my packages arrived, and it was just what I needed to turn my day around. Because in all honesty, there is no place I’d rather be than right here, right now. 

Madagascar is probably the most magical place I’ve ever been, well … besides Disneyland of course. And I’m not just talking about the lemurs, chameleons, witches, mermaids, or centaurs we have on this beautiful island off in the Indian Ocean. The magic and beauty is in the everyday encounters with the people here. I’ve never met a group of people or culture that understands the meaning of hospitality like Malagasy people do. They have opened their homes and their hearts to our entire group of volunteers. Not only are they beautiful people on the outside, but on the inside as well. Every person I have interacted with here has made it feel more and more like my home, like I belong here. 

Sure, we get called vazaha, (white person) because we stand out. There’s no question about that. No matter how tan I get in the next two years, there is no way I’ll be able to blend in. I will always turn heads and be that strange person that definitely isn’t from here. And there won’t be day I’m not called vazaha as I walk down the street. At first it bothered me, all I want to do is be a part of this community, yet all I can do is turn heads. When the children line up against the fence to watch all of the vazaha Americans play a game, you can’t help but feel like an animal in a zoo or a goldfish in a bowl. 

I’ve more or less become indifferent to it now, although it truly depends on the day. Some days it can still be very irritating, but I try to just hold on to what my Neny (Malagasy mom) said to me - At first you’re a vazaha and then when you live with a host family, learn the language, and live as other Malagasy do, then you aren’t a vazaha, you’re a part of the Malagasy family. And although my new site that I will move to in 2 weeks will present it’s own challenges, I’m so excited for the next big change in my life and my Peace Corps experience.

I still have 2 more weeks of waiting, so I think I’ll try to enjoy the time I have left by spending it with my fellow trainees, using the internet as much as possible, enjoying the food being cooked for us 3 times a day, and eating all of my birthday goodies I just opened. Hopefully my tummy improves soon so I can begin eating my goodies instead of staring at them at the end of my bed!

Mimi - My Malagasy family's cat

The view on my daily walk home during homestay