Random Tale from Week One

Apparently the first week at site is notorious for being extremely difficult to get through. When I ran into a fellow PCV who was getting ready to COS, the first thing she asked me was how my first week went. After admitting that it had been pretty rough she told me not to worry, that she had spent her first week holed up in her house crying. So, to demonstrate the emotional roller coaster that was my first week, here is a description of a particularly interesting day:

On the morning of my fifth day in Andina, I made my way to a meeting for the rice planting organization. I had absolutely no desire to go to this meeting because I still sucked at Malagasy so I wouldn’t understand anything and I was really worried they’d make me give a speech, which, given my difficulties with the language, would have been more than a little embarrassing. But I agreed to go because one of the members of the organization had come to my house insisting that I attend. He actually made quiet the spectacle in asking me. He showed up at my house speaking in rapid-fire Malagasy about this meeting. Of course I didn’t understand him so I told him I’d only studied the language for ten weeks so he needed to speak slowly. He then repeated everything, but this time in rapid-fire French – naturally. So I again requested that he speak slower. This went on with him switching between the two languages until I finally managed to piece together what he wanted but I still didn’t know where the meeting was. When I asked, he sighed, sounding exasperated and said, “You don’t know Malagasy and you don’t know French!” By this time a huge crowd had gathered and he went through his whole spiel again but this time he wrote everything down, checking after each individual word to make sure I understood, but in English (don’t ask me why he waited so long to go the English route given that he knew I was American). However, he still neglected to tell me where the meeting would be held. Tired of dealing with this guy, I told him I understood and would be there; all the while hoping I’d be able to find out where the meeting was from someone else.

Anyway, at 8 in the morning I headed to the meeting, prepared speech in hand and dreading having to face this guy again. No one was around and the room was locked. I waited around for 30-45 minutes until someone finally told me the meeting was actually at 10. Perfect. So I headed home grumbling the whole way about how that guy had treated me like such a moron yet couldn’t even tell me the right time for his precious meeting. Regardless, I returned at 10 and the meeting finally got underway at around 11. It lasted for a couple of extremely long hours. The whole time the presenter kept stopping to ask if I understood what he was saying. Each time I said I understood a little but really the only thing I got out of the whole thing was that he was trying to convince the people to plant some sort of plant in their rice fields. Also, periodically throughout the meeting, my favorite member would sneak up behind me to check and see if I was taking notes and understanding. I finally started writing random things down in English to get him to leave me alone. Needless to say, I came out of the meeting with a huge migraine from trying to understand the language for so long and irritated that I’d been forced to go at all.

All I wanted to do when I got home was and lunch and take a nap to recuperate. But, as always happened when I got home, as soon as I opened my windows kids swarmed in from all corners of my village and started screaming my name. Thus, napping was officially out of the question.

Desperate for some peace and quiet in order to maintain my sanity I decided to go for a walk. I somehow managed to forge a path through all the kids and made my way along a footpath that looked mildly secluded. After walking for awhile I was finally starting to feel normal again when I stumbled upon a huge house with a group of kids outside who looked absolutely terrified of me. Now, I should explain that someone at some point in the history of Madagascar started a nasty little rumor that white people eat babies. From what I understand, this rumor is still in circulation. So, when I see kids cowering in fear at the sight of me I try to talk to them to prove that I’m not actually going to cook them up for dinner. With that in mind, I started trying to chat with these kids. Before I knew it, heads were peaking out of every window of the house and a man with a lame leg hobbled out the door to find out who I was and invite me in. This was the last thing I wanted to do and my first thought was to turn and run to avoid suffering through an inevitable long and difficult “conversation” with this guy but that didn’t seem like the best reaction if I ever wanted to integrate myself into this society. So I reluctantly followed him in and sat down with him and his mother (who was so tiny and shriveled that I seriously think she may be the oldest woman in Madagascar). To my surprise, we ended up having a relatively good conversation. This guy, Edouard, had known and worked with the volunteer I replaced and was excited to be able to work with me.

On my way out we walked past a huge room packed with people screaming and yelling at each other. I asked what all the noise was about and, as luck would have it, I had stumbled upon this family on the one day that they were hosting the monthly town meeting. Of course, they all insisted that I go in and give a speech. I couldn’t believe it. Just as I thought my day was turning around I was being forced into a room so full of Gasy people I could barely find a place to stand and I was going to have to address them all. Awesome.

The whole room fell silent and they all looked at me expectantly. I took a deep breath and, hoping I could get through everything in one piece, dove into a brief speech. It actually ended up being a hilarious experience. As I stumbled through my self-introduction and explanation of Peace Corps, the whole room would periodically erupt into chaos for some unknown reason. Then Edouard would stand up and get everyone to be quiet and I would begin again only for another outburst 30 seconds later. The whole time everyone kept telling me how great I was at Malagasy and how they loved Peace Corps and couldn’t wait to work with me. I agreed to meet with Edouard again the following week and walked home feeling like I was on cloud nine.