Phew! Made it.

I’ve officially made it to our In Service Training, which means that I’ve survived my first three months at site. And let me tell you, it has been a long three months. Supposedly they are infamous as being the worst months during Peace Corps service and I think it’s safe to assume that it can only go up from here. I think the high point was probably when I came home to chicken innards strewn all over my porch. Not sure who decided to throw them at my house but I’m really hoping it was the kids since if it was adults I would be really freaked out. The incident also left me feeling rather confused since chicken organs are prized meat in Madagascar. Here are some highlights from my time at site so far:

Mr. Sketchy

I was traveling with a fellow PCV, Melanie, when we encountered what I can only describe as the creepiest man I have ever seen in my life. As we made our taxi-brousse reservations this guy started hovering around us. I wish I had a picture of this guy because he looked like such a mess that I could barely hold in my laughter. He reeked of alcohol, was dressed in rags and could not get out a single word to us but insisted on standing practically on top of us. We quickly resorted to waiting for our departure somewhere else hoping he would have wandered off by the time we had to board our brousse. Unfortunately, he ended up following us right on to the brousse which we found a little shocking since he did not look like there was any way he could afford the fare. Of course, he sat right next to Melanie, squishing her in to me even though there was plenty of room in the brousse. He still couldn’t manage to actually say anything since he was so drunk but just stared nonstop at the two of us adoringly. As he pressed up closer and closer to Melanie we finally had to hop over the seat to sit behind him and the guy who was behind us graciously moved in to sit next to the drunkard. This, however, did not stop our friend. He merely turned around and leaned over the back of the seat to continue his staring, now directly in our faces. I was starting to get afraid that he would puke into our laps if the road got too windy when he turned back around. But the awkwardness did not end there. He left his arm draped over the back of the seat and started groping the air trying to grab one of our legs. I was seconds away from losing it when the brousse stopped to get gas and the driver forced him to get out. Apparently he couldn’t afford the fare and had just come along for the ride across town from the station to the gas station.


On guard

So, I have a guard for my house. I have no idea why I have a guard as my site seems perfectly safe and I don’t know anyone else in Peace Corps who has their own personal guard. I’m assuming that the Peace Corps freaked my site out so much about security that they decided to have the guard for the middle school guard my house as well just to ensure that I don’t have any security issues that could lead to my having to move to a new site. Anyway, my guard has officially proved to be completely and utterly without worth.

My first clue was when I discovered that someone had used my kabone (outhouse). I’ll spare you the gory details as to how I could tell that someone used my kabone and just say that it wasn’t a pretty sight to come home to. After that incident I decided to take the matter of fixing my fence into my own hands since it clearly wasn’t keeping people out and all of my requests to have it fixed were ignored. As I was outside fixing my fence my guard came up to me and told me he thought it was really good that I was fixing it since people could get through it. He actually gave a physical demonstration of how people could climb over, under and through the pickets. He then told me that I really needed to start keeping my kabone locked since he had seen people use it. When I asked him what he had done about it he looked at me like I completely crazy and said nothing. Hmmm…

As if that wasn’t enough proof of his lack of guarding abilities I have since noticed that the bamboo sticks I’d used to beef up my fencing were slowly disappearing day by day. One day, as I was walking by my guard’s house I saw a few of them strewn in their yard. I was pretty sure they were mine because of the way I had cut them. Later, when I walked back through one of my guard’s kids had one in his hands and I asked him if it was from my fence. He said that it was and then handed it backed to me as I started picking up all the missing pieces of my fence. I don’t have high hopes of my guard keeping anyone from doing stuff to my house given that he can’t even keep his own kids from stealing from me.

Are you cold?

A couple weeks ago I attended my first gasy wedding. My friend Nicole was super excited I was going with her and gave me all sorts of advice about the event in the week leading up to it. Most of the advice was pretty helpful: gifts, different parts of the ceremony, when it would begin and end etc. However, one thing that she really stressed was that I wear really warm clothes because it would be freezing that day. It is winter here so it does get pretty cold during the day in my region so I decided to listen to her and I wore a thick sweater and scarf along with my skirt. As I walked over to Nicole’s house to meet her before the wedding I felt pretty good about what I had on, it was a little chilly outside but not too bad with the sweater. Apparently, though, I was not wearing nearly enough warm clothes. Everyone I met asked me if I was cold. I kept insisting that I was fine and pointing out that they were all wearing dresses too. This did not stop them. Every five seconds throughout the ceremony someone sitting near me would ask if I was cold. I replied every time that I was not. Then, what must have been minutes before the ceremony ended, Nicole turned to me and said she was taking me home so I could change clothes before the party because I was so cold. I told her that wasn’t necessary, that the ceremony was ending soon and that I wasn’t cold. Her response was to repeat that she was taking me home to change my clothes because I was so cold. Hmm. This back and forth continued for several minutes until I finally caved and told her that yes, I was really cold so let’s leave so I can change.

She walked me home and dropped me off. I changed into pants as she had suggested and then put on all my warm outer clothes in the hopes that that would keep people from commenting on my attire with regards to the weather. I took my time because I had assumed that Nicole was cold as well and used me as an excuse to be able to change into warmer clothes herself. That was not the case. I walked out and she met me wearing the exact same thing and kind of smirking at what I was wearing. As we waited for the taxi brousse to take us to the party every single person who passed me started laughing because I had changed my clothes. From then on the comments on my dress shifted from asking if I was cold to asking if I was still cold with just as much repetition. To top it off, I was sweating because I was wearing so many layers. Imagine my frustration.

This sort of thing happens to me all the time at my site. It does not matter what I say, think or want to do. My personal plans do not matter. If someone decides that I must be feeling a certain way or that I need to go do a certain thing then that is what I have to feel or do. I can resist all day long but the people here never give in. So I always end up caving out of frustration and agreeing to whatever it is that I’m supposed to be thinking or doing at the time. I can not possibly explain how aggravating this is. Maybe some day my town will let me have my own thoughts but lately my hopes that that day will ever come have been diminishing rapidly.

That’s all for now so, enjoy. I’m off for a much deserved beach vacation and am hoping to return to site with a fresh set of eyes and a restored tolerance for all of the every day annoyances.