Playing with Knives

After a couple of weeks here, I’m beginning to feel somewhat settled. I feel a little less out of place all the time and have mastered most of my daily activities (I’m probably never going to get used to the outdoor bucket shower on cold rainy days but there are worse things to have to deal with I suppose). I’m even managing to string together a few simple sentences at the dinner table, so I don’t seem completely mute and deaf to my host family anymore. I’m hoping that as I start conversing more I’ll be able to convince my host mom that I am somewhat intelligent and that she’ll trust me to do some things – like fetch water – on my own. As of right now, I am not allowed to leave the yard without my little brothers as escorts. I appreciate the concern but I think my brothers are sick of having to tag along for all of my daily chores. Overall though, the adjustment process seems to be coming along.

One thing that I have been struggling to adjust to, however, is the tendency to allow kids to play with knives here. Apparently, nobody here is considered too young to wield a knife because I’ve seen kids as young as two waving knives around without nearby adults so much as batting an eyelash. Meanwhile, I’m standing by having heart attacks ready to catch flying limbs at any moment. Seriously, I wouldn’t be surprised if I start finding gray hairs. I noticed this for the first time when my host mom brought a huge knife along to cut back the path on our way to get water. Her hands were full on the way back so she just handed the knife over to my five-year-old brother. Without hesitation. We’re talking a knife that’s probably longer than his arm. My brother then proceeded to try to chop branches off of every tree and bush that we passed on the way back home. This didn’t go over too well with my mom so I thought she was yelling at him to stop or he’d chop his arm off. But when we finally got back I took the knife to be placed safely out of reach. I thought I was doing her a favor but when my brother started crying she gave it right back to him to play with at the house. So I guess she was just yelling at him to hurry up.

I was faced with this again the other night while helping cook dinner. My little brother and his two-year-old cousin were running around fighting when my brother reached for the sharp knife I’d been using and started waving it around in front of his face. His cousin, not to be outdone, then reached for the antsy-be (big knife) and started waving it around. I thought for sure my host mom would intervene this time given the fact that the two were dangerously close to one another, but she just sat there calmly and continued cooking. Given what had happened the first time I’d tried to intervene, I just moved myself out of striking range and prepared myself for the worst. In my mom’s defense, nothing happened either time. And I haven’t seen any Malagasy children with missing fingers. So I guess these kids really do know how to handle a knife.