Are we living in the same country!?

I got this message from a fellow PCV after I posted pictures about the grand opening of Mahajanga’s newest grocery store - Shoprite! It’s South African owned and about as close to an American grocery store as you can get. It also happens to be the third “grocery store” to open in Mahajanga. Behind the capital, Tana, we are now the only city with all three options. And, yes, grocery shopping here is just like the US. I know I now get my peanut butter at Shoprite, my honey at Leader Price, and beef at Score, and I still go to my local market for fruits and veggies, which means I do go to all 4 on a regular basis because some things are cheaper at one store than another. If grocery shopping every week was supposed to get simpler here, I would have to say - it most definitely hasn’t.

So I think you can see why me friend’s question was justified. And to tell the truth as I stood in the middle of Shoprite today I wasn’t exactly sure what country I was in. What I did know was this wasn’t how I expected my Peace Corps service to be, nor is life this way for almost every other Peace Corps volunteer here in Madagascar. I expected, like everyone else, the once or twice a week tiny market in town with limited seasonal vegetables or a 5 mile bike ride to get to a once a week market. 

As I began to think about those previous expectations I felt guilty… Who was I to go buy my chicken breast from the meat counter at a grocery store!? But as I sat with my Malagasy friends at their house today, I realized I was living a perfectly normal life here in Mahajanga. Certainly there are those who are very poor and never go into a grocery store, but amongst my Malagasy friends and others who are living at the same income level it’s perfectly normal. Today after we had all visited Shoprite at separate times of the day we were even comparing prices and talking about what we will buy where now that the new store is open. 

A feeling of gratefulness came over me as the guilt left. I am so thankful to have access to so many of these wonderful luxuries that most volunteers don’t have the opportunity to get. I can make well balanced meals semi-comparable to what I would make at home (although don’t get me wrong there are somethings I still miss like crazy!). I am also thankful to have access to all of these foods as I struggle with a new gastrointestinal diagnosis that makes my current diet difficult. 

So my answer to her question is, yes, I’m still in Madagascar. And, yes, Mahajanga is amazing - you should all come visit.

Well at least I can check that off of my bucket list?

One of the last few things I said to myself before returning back to Madagascar was - I just need one little thing to go right… Feeling discouraged and unsure I was hoping for the best as I returned to site. And things started off pretty well! I was back into the swing of things before I knew it and things were looking up! I even rode my bicycle for the first time and went all the way into town.

And then then next thing I knew I was looking down… and was on the ground… 

I was riding my bicycle on the main road closest to my house, (going straight mind you!) When a motorcycle going the opposite direction took a left turn into oncoming traffic and me. I saw him begin to make the turn (remember there aren’t lights or hand signals) and before I could say anything or react he had hit and popped my front tire and the next thing I knew I was on the ground. My bike landed on top of me and then he was gone. He paused for less than a fraction of a second to see what or who he had hit and he took off. 

For a while I was so angry at the driver. He didn’t even stop. His fear of being in trouble overcame any desire to do the right thing. His face was filled of fear of what may happen to him, not fear over what he had done to me. And what was even harder to accept was that no one helped me. The street was filled with people walking and others driving and sure they all stopped, but they only stopped to stare. They knew what the driver did was wrong, but no one moved an inch to get to me or the driver Even writing about it brings back some of those not-so-nice feelings.

After the anger came disbelief. I couldn’t believe it actually happened. I just laughed at my luck. Of course it would be me. After all, I have been the person saying for the past 6 months that I wasn’t sure if riding a bike was a good idea here in Mahajanga…

But it did happen, so praise God I wasn’t injured more than a few bumps and bruises on my hands and knees. My bicycle took the brunt of it. I try not to think about what could have happened because it could have been so much worse. I try to now to just be thankful I’m okay and be glad I was wearing my helmet.

I’m not so sure that was on my bucket list, but, hey, now at least I can check that one off. Been there — survived that — and things are looking up again.

Coming out of the Storm

My excitement to get back to Mahajanga in January was fleeting. The tooth I had chipped before the new year escalated to multiple dentist appointments, lots of frustrating delay from Peace Corps, another unnecessarily long 12 hour trip to my least favorite place, Tana, finding out nothing and being shipped home on another 12 hour bus ride all knowing that if Washington DC thought something had to be fixed I would have to do the 24 hours of travel all over again. A few weeks later I received the email that my tooth was going to lead to a medevac and I would be off to South Africa soon. Bosses returned and I met them for the first time, my roommate moved in, and then yet again I was off…. another 12 hour trip to the capital and then a flight to South Africa. I felt like I was in the midst of a storm. 

So much for the idea that I would be settling in when I returned home in January. I was in Mahajanga only a few weeks at a time and I felt alone. I eagerly awaited the trip to South Africa thinking it would be a nice getaway (minus the dental work). When I found out one of the other girls from my region would be there too, I was so excited we could explore things together.

But the day before I had left for South Africa - I was done. I had had enough and was ready to just call it quits. Thankfully the Berrys (who are some of the most amazing people I have ever met) and other PCVs in Tana put everything in perspective. Maybe this trip was exactly what I needed and would provide a true fresh start. 

I left for my medevac with a half full giant suitcase hoping it would be somewhat of a medevacation. It was rougher than I expected, with some wonderful moments, shopping, and food in there as well. If you know me I HATE the dentist, and because of complications I spent 2 weeks in and out of the dentist’s office. I also did some tests for my stomach that is still bothering me and although I thought the doctors were interested in helping me solve my ongoing problem, they weren’t helpful at all. An ultrasound successfully located my pain but beyond that everything was a fight. They wouldn’t even let me see a GI doctor because they claimed it wouldn’t help. And I was told other volunteers dealt with worse so I should just deal with it and go home. Towards the end of the medevac I was at an even lower place emotionally than where I had been before I left. I felt like there was no way I could deal with this pain for 2 years. If Peace Corps wasn’t going to help me then maybe it was time to head home. My mom was a big believer in this idea as well. Site wasn’t going well, the medevac wasn’t going well, and after everything I have already been through my mom thought I gave it my best shot, but enough was enough. Actually I’m not sure there was anyone in the US who thought I should return to Madagascar after the medevac, and to be honest I wasn’t sure myself. I felt like I just needed something to go right, in the midst of everything going wrong.

Upon returning to Tana it was almost like culture shock all over again. After shopping, getting my haircut, eating amazing food, and even seeing ferraris; getting off of the plane was difficult. I was blessed enough to spend some time with people from the embassy who made the transition so much easier. I was blessed with the opportunity to meet 2 RPCVs (1 who is legendary in Mada because of his 4 years in his village!) at a dinner. I confided in them that I didn’t know what I was going to do, and I wasn’t sure if staying was right for me. These newly found friends seemed to have more faith in me than I had in myself. They said to go home to site and give it some time, and they passed along advice. The first was to make a long list of books and say you couldn’t leave until you finished them all. The second was a reminder that this would all be a memory before I knew it, and that I shouldn’t make it a memory before I really had to. And both of those things have really stuck with me. I’m currently deep in a series of LA crime books with a dozen still to go. And as the storm begins to calm, I know that I’m not ready for this all to be a memory quite yet.

7 things you learn while babysitting in Madagascar…

I had the opportunity to babysit some of my favorite missionary kids in all of Madagascar and put my nanny skills back to use. Their parents actually went out on a very rare real date! So here’s what I learned from my fun-filled night -

1. Some things just don’t change. When the parents are gone children don’t want to go to bed here just as much as they don’t wan t to go to bed when they are stateside. I guess this one shouldn’t have been a surprise, but a nanny can dream right??
   
   
2. Watching American movies just isn’t the same. We watched the lego movie last night and they mentioned overpriced coffee and Taco Tuesday and all I could think was - not fair! I would do anything for a $5 coffee and a girls night out for Taco Tuesday.
   
   
3. When getting ready for bed we don’t have to worry about monsters, we only have to worry about making sure the lions, tigers, giraffes, and cheetahs are out of the house. Whew! Africa problems… I didn’t share that these were only mainland Africa problems, it was just too cute!)
   
   
4. When the hard part of making dinner isn’t the cooking, it’s figuring out how to turn on the stove. I looked for a lighter for 10 minutes until I remembered they have a button on the stove to light the burner… so fancy! Now if we had an American oven I don’t even know what I would do with myself!
   
   
5. I’m not in charge. Mommy and Daddy said big brother was in charge, and obviously only one person can be in charge. I even tried to explain that I’m a decade and a half older than anyone else in the house at the moment, but that didn’t mean much because mommy and daddy said… All I could think of was “what am I doing here then?!”
   
   
6. If grown-ups go out on a date I should be thankful I’m not there. According to the kids I’m super lucky because they saved me from talking about boring grown-up things and we watched a movie instead! I won’t remind them I’m considered an old maid by Malagasy standards and should be married with at least 1 child by now. I guess not growing up is the way to go if you get to have a movie night!
   
   
7. Being driven home afterwards isn’t as easy as it sounds. It’s frustrating enough that I can’t transport myself home, much less that we have to drive the long way around the neighborhood because of the rain and mud. The ride was almost a real-life version of the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland! It was just a reminder that even the simplest task can be challenging here.
   

Happy New Year?

I’m pretty sure by now most of you are keen to the fact that I don’t update my blog when 1) I don’t have wifi (e.g. during most of Pre-Service Training) or 2) when things aren’t going so well (e.g. the 6 months before my departure when I wasn’t sure if I would be medically cleared to leave). Which means I have a lot to catch you all up on since my last check-in a month after arriving to site.

My first few months at site were… well… transformative and transitional to put it lightly. Once school started I quickly settled into my routine of teaching, attending a bible study, and doing my weekly errands. But by the end of November I was miserable. I knew I had two options - change my Peace Corps experience to be a positive one or go home and ET (Early Termination of Service). Much I think to my mother’s dismay, I wanted to try the former and yet agreed to the latter if things did not turn around. 

Scared, and nervous that maybe the things that were a big deal to me would be minuscule in the eyes of Peace Corps, I sent off an email to the office. This wasn’t a hasty email, it was a multi-day, multi-edited, prayed over email that also happened to be quite lengthy. I was sick to my stomach waiting to hear back, but I also had an inner peace about my decision that I found to be a reassurance from God. When I heard the Tuesday before I was to leave for IST (In-Service Training) that for a multitude of reasons I would be changing projects, I was shaking and in tears. After I hung up I realized that the initial flood of emotion turned into mixed feelings. I was excited to see what the future had in store but the sad realization that I no longer would be teaching my students set in. The rest of the week was a rush to pack up my house before I left for training and at the same time pack for training, vacation, and and a stay in Tana for an unknown length of time. As you can imagine things I needed to take with me were packed in the things to stay and some things I most definitely didn’t need ended up in my backpack on my trip.

After IST, vacation, many discussions, lots of waiting, and almost of month of being homeless and jobless in a developing country, I was allowed to finally return to Mahajanga. I really wanted to be back as soon as possible, preferably New Year’s Day, and I wasn’t looking forward to having to wait until January 2nd to sit on another 12 hour packed taxi-brousse ride, so I splurged and bought a flight. The new year came with an unexpected and initially unwelcome surprise when I arrived at the airport only to discover that my flight was canceled. I was ushered down a back hallway and at first no one was willing to tell me where I was going or why. I panicked thinking I was going to be interrogated and began looking for my phone to call Peace Corps to help get me out of what must have been some horrible misunderstanding. I found my phone and looked up to find that we had walked past the office doors and ended up at the airline service desk. As soon as I got there and was clued in as to what was going on, I began to cry. I just wanted to be in Mahajanga. Everyone on the flight was rebooked for the following day and given a free night and free meals at a resort nearby. I immediately messaged my mom to have her look at the hotel thinking it might be some horrible place, but then I realized that the airline had to put us somewhere nice enough that the vazaha vacationers wouldn’t complain. It ended up being a beautiful resort that almost made me forget I was in Madagascar. I stayed in my princess bed all day for some much needed personal time and relaxation after a stressful month. It ended up being a great stay with not amazing food, that didn’t matter much anyways since my stomach wasn’t happy.

The following day I was off on the next flight to Mahajanga and we landed in 45 minutes! (I have to admit it’s going to be hard to sit for 12 hours on a taxi-brousse again… so… if anyone wants to fund my flights for the next two years, let me know!). Flying was amazing! I love flying and I wasn’t sure if I would have the chance to while I was in PC, so it was quite an exciting event. It was a beautiful to see Madagascar from above and as we landed I had this oh so familiar feeling wash over me. The same feeling I do when I land at SJC or LAX - I felt that I was home. The crying in the airport wasn’t just because I wanted to get to a different place, I’d already been so many places, I just wanted to be home. 

Although the day before had been filled with relaxation, being home was initially the opposite. The first few days included moving out, getting the new place stocked with food, grading papers, returning papers, and unpacking. To be honest, a week later I’m still unpacking, but I figure it will get done at some point. The best part of being back is beginning to work with an amazing organization and amazing people. I’m excited to see what the New Year brings and I know it’s going to bring a lot! Lots of good and some bad, but it’s going to be an exciting year regardless. New projects will begin, family and friends will visit, adventures will continue, but I also have to deal with a cracked tooth and possibly being medivaced, the relentless heat of the hottest region in Madagascar, and I’m sure many other challenges that will come my way. 

I do truly love Mahajanga and Madagascar, and I’m not ready to give all of this up just yet. My mom likes to remind me that ETing is always and option, and she’s right. It is just that - an option. It’s also important for me to remember it’s one of many options. And right now, it isn’t the right option. Fortunately for me, and maybe not so much for my mom (who I know was wishing I would just come home!), things have started to turn around. So I guess it is a Happy New Year in Madagascar after all. 

Tratry ny Taona! 

Happy New Year!

The view from above heading home!

Welcome to Site?

Exhausting - the one word that sums up installation. I tried to take solace in the fact that I didn’t need to buy everything right away, but I can’t say that alleviated all of the stress. Between the endless shopping and courtesy visits to the police, immigration, and every other official person in Mahajanga, I was exhausted and very disoriented. And before I knew it the Peace Corps car was packed and driving away at 6am. I was so tired I didn’t even know what to think. I crawled back into bed and when I woke up I thought - now what! Peace Corps was really gone, and I was standing in my new house (not quite yet a home) all alone. I felt vastly unprepared for life on my own. Thankfully, the PCVs who were still in Mahajanga checked in on me for the first few days. They showed me around, brought me to useful places, took me to restaurants, taught me the bus system, and made the transition to life in Mahajanga much easier. That first week I just kept telling myself that hopefully, someday soon this would feel like home, and one month later it is starting to - slowly, but surely. 

Swearin-In then Moving-Out

The past two weeks have gone by in a whirlwind. It’s hard to believe a little over 2 weeks ago I was still living with 25 other soon-to-be volunteers preparing for our Swearing-In Ceremony at PCTC (Peace Corps Training Center). The Swearing-In Ceremony was filled with speeches by everyone from a representative of our host families, one of our own fellow volunteers, our Country Director, the US Ambassador, and the Madagascar’s Minister of Education. We all sang our national anthems, we sang a Malagasy song, performed dances from each of our respective regions, and wore traditional lambas. I have to say I think mine was the best! It was truly a joyous occasion that suddenly turned into a solemn realization that we would all be saying goodbye soon… and after install we would be all on our own to survive out in the Madagascar wilderness! Or in my case one of the largest cities…

Swearing-In and the preparation was more emotional for me than I expected. I wasn’t anticipating it, but it became a time for reflection. I found myself remembering why I decided to apply for the Peace Corps, what and who inspired/still inspires me, and of course, thinking about home. I also had this unknown feeling come over me that I don’t think I have ever felt before — I think for the first time in my life I felt patriotic. I was (and still am) proud of the program JFK (our only Catholic president!) started over 50 years ago. And as they played the recording of JFK talking about the Peace Corps I felt like more of an American citizen than I  ever have before. (Now for those of you who know me well, no this moment hasn’t changed my after Peace Corps dreams…)

On the other hand as we began saying our goodbyes I felt so unemotional that I surprised myself at first. I wondered for a while - why aren’t the tears coming!? And then as I looked around I realized that everyone else was crying, which meant there was no way I could cry. When others cry, I can’t. I don’t know why, but I guess unconsciously I feel as though I have to be the strong one to keep it together. The logical scientist in me also thought about how we only have only have to wait 3 months until IST (In-Service Training) when we will see each other again. And if we’ve already had 3 months fly by at PST (Pre-Service Training), then logically, IST would be here before we know it! Although as I hugged my last friend goodbye, I will admit I lost it… 

And just like that we were all moved-out and off to install….

Swearing-In lamba hoany

The cars are all packed!

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