Expat Observations

During my weekend in Tana I was exposed to the large and vibrant expat community there. I’ve observed various things, both positive and negative about it. Theresa lives in a beautiful house. She has a maid who does all of her cooking and cleaning, who also goes to the market for her etc. She has a woman come to the house for a manicure/pedicure once a month, and the same for a massage appointment. She once mentioned when I was in Tana at the beginning that it’s a good life to be in a developing country on an American salary. Where else could you afford to keep a maid ? Good point, I thought. Plus, living in that manner does contribute to the local economy. Hiring staff at your home helps other people put their kids through school.

During the weekend, we visited her friend Sofia, a Portugeuse woman who works for the World Bank. She lives in the equivilant of the burbs, and also has a beautiful home with a large yard and garden. She has two dogs that she dotes on. Sofia was very fun, seems a little wild and crazy, and is a very outgoing woman. However, I can’t imagine how isolating it must seem to live far out of town in what amounts to a gated community in an expat area.

While both of these women lead a luxurious life in some ways, it also seems that they’re totally missing out on everything Malagasy. It seems that in some expat circles, everything possible is done to avoid actually integrating into Malagasy society. Granted, I was thrilled to find popcorn at the grocery store in Tana, and enjoyed the western comfort of Theresa’s home for the weekend. I’m certainly not turning my back on everything connected to home. But, I guess I always thought that the kind of people who live abroad, whether it be the 3rd world or Western Europe do so based primarily on a desire to learn about other cultures and languages. Rather, I think that many of them just see being here as a job. There is not always an effort to even learn the language. I feel that there’s often an almost colonial sort of relationship between Malagasys and their white higher ups at work. I’ve noticed it most with the drivers. Whenever I’m in a project vehicle, I make some conversation with the drivers, and make sure to say please and thank you – I was really greatful that Jacky could drive me to the various offices I didn’t need to go to in Tana, because I would have been absolutely overwhelmed on my own. I offered him a chocolate when I was so frazzled that I needed one myself. Another driver, Christian, took me down to the taxi brousse station to help me make a reservation to go to Ranamofana. Whenever I walk into or out of the office, the drivers always say hello to me and ask how things are going, and I appreciate that. However, not everybody affords the same respect to them. While I see every Malagasy (that’s not hissing at me or calling me vazaha in the street) as somebody who can teach me something (mostly about their country or language), I think many don’t have a huge desire to get to know them. Granted, people within the same race or nationality get treated as inferior due to class/education/job all the time – but in situations like this it somehow seems less just, or more élitist.

None of this is to say that anybody I know treats their home staff badly – quite the contrary, actually. Often maids are treated more like family, and definately respected and appreciated.

I think that especially in the generation that’s closer to my age, the expats live more normally – in downtown apartments without home staff, which would be much more my style if I ever decided to live somewhere else long term. (My needs are simple -For more than 4 months I definately think I’d spring for somewhere with a toilet and running water, but I wouldn’t need a maid.) At the same time though, after being in the business for a number of years, and living long term in numerous developing countries, I suppose I could see trying to Westernize as much of one’s life as possible.

The most elaborate and beautiful home from the weekend would be Carlina’s. On the same property, she also has a very extensive outdoor kennel area for the 20 or 30 dogs being taken care of waiting to be adopted. Here is a pic of where the absolutly lovely brunch she hosted took place :

so sad – i’m about to get on a soap box

We all saw the animation of a lost and drowning polar bear in An Inconvenient Truth… unfortunately that problem is not going away – this article in the Times reminded me that Al Gore’s cartoon was not a worst case scenario – it’s already happening. I encourage all who are able to make a donation to one of the organizations that are lobbying to establish more protection for polar bears threatened by climate change, or even to write to your representative. I don’t pretend to think that that fixes everything, or that there is no corruption within organizations accepting donations, or that most politicians really care that much, but lots of people doing little things will add up.
Above all, we should all be riding around on bikes, walking, and using public transportation as much as possible.

A few ideas:

The WWF
Polar Bear SOS – Leo DiCaprio got some flack for ‘wasting paper’ to save bears on this project, but I believe that most conservation organisations send too much mail – something to be worked on
Greenpeace

At long last – sort of at least

Well folks, I am officially legal until October 28th. Everything went so easily in Fianar. I went to the bureau du district when the right woman was there. Her name was Françoise, and she verified that my papers were in order – I just needed Sophie to come to the office with me so that we could do signatures together. In the meantime though, I could extend my visa another 2 months at the police station in the immigration office. So, I went there, and talked to another Françoise. She verified that I only needed a signed letter from Sophie, and to pay the 80,000 Ar fee, and I’d be all set until October 28th. I paid the fee, got the letter from Sophie last night, and got the correct stamps in my passport this morning. I can now relax a little, and Sophie and I can go to the bureau de districte next week to make the final request. After that, even if the visa doesn’t come, I’ll have proof/a receipt that I started the process. Alleluia!!!!

Also, even before all of this was done, I reread my visa frustration post, and I have to say it made me laugh. Is it ever really another way when dealing with foreign bureaucracy???

Pooping in holes

Really, how have I not talked about this yet?!? Below are pictures of my bathroom/shower facilities. The door on the far right opens to the area where a bucket of hot and cold water are brought each morning for me to bathe.

Below is the actual latrine. The plug is covering the hole, and it slants down so that urine runs out. There’s also a little reservoir for hand washing.

This is the sign that’s up on the wall. The small print on the bottom says: “If your intelligence is insulted by these instructions, we apologize. You should have seen some of the antics previous users have tried while attempting to pee in the hole. We wish to spare you that indignity.”

Somewhat surprisingly, it is very easy to use, and I don’t have a problem with it. The only annoying part is that it seems to be impossible to avoid small splattering on the feet – good thing the water spigit is there to rinse them off!

#@$*&#^@!!!!

I went to the Bureau du Districte this morning, bringing along the letter that the Walker Police Department wrote, stamped, and notorized in less than 24 hours verifying that I am not a criminal in my home country. The ‘responsable’ (boss/person in charge of what I needed) will not be there today at all. I’m to come back tomorrow morning. Effing bastard bureaucracy!!!

Adventures in Tana

This is a long one…

This past weekend I spent in Antananarivo to get my visa renewed. The visa that I originally received from the Malagasy embassy in DC was valid for a month, but renewable. It will be up on the 31st, so this weekend was a good time to take care of it. Gabe had to go to Tana on Thursday to meet his family who was flying in on Friday, so I was able to go with him on a taxi-brousse. Theresa from the Tana office said I could stay with her for the weekend, and she had to come to Fianarantsoa on Monday with Rebecca (girl who works in DC office but is in Mad for 2 weeks), so I could just ride back in an ERI vehicle. All seemed that it would work out. Last week Olga, the receptionist at the Tana office told me she’d go to the Bureau des Affairs Etrangères to inquire as to what I would need to bring. She left me a message a few days before I left that she would go with me on Friday to get things taken care of, so I went to Tana with high hopes of everything working out just fine. And now, after that little bit of gloomy foreshadowing, a synopsis of my weekend, both good and bad: Much of it I wrote in my notebook while I was waiting here and there, so you can watch my optimism slowly degrade: I chose not to edit them to seem less frustrated now that I’m publishing them.

Thursday PM:
Well, I have now survived a typical, Malagasy taxi-brousse experience. Gabe and I arrived at the taxi gare as planned at 6:30 AM. The van we were supposed to be on was broken, so the replacement for it wouldn’t leave till 8 instead of 7. After waiting around till about that time, the new one wasn’t filling up with people, so it didn’t seem remotely ready to go. (The taxi brousses typically wait till they’re pretty much full before leaving) The wait was getting a little ridiculous, so we jumped ship and went with another company, and left within a half hour. The driver, perhaps wanting to make up time took the hairpin curves at quite liberal speeds, and the row behind Gabe and I contained 3 carsick children and 2 mothers. The kids didn’t cry or throw up on me, but still. Gross. Nevertheless, we did arrive in Tana before dark in one piece, and we split a taxi to take Gabe to the Carlton and me to Theresa’s.

A general observation: I definitely don’t like the taxi brousse station in either city – just lots of taxi brousse workers competing for everyone’s business bugging you to go all over as you walk in.

Theresa’s house:
Ah, lovely Western comfort. Theresa has a beautiful house, complete with stand up shower, toilet, hair dryer, microwave, and satellite TV. She enjoys relaxing at home, so we spent Thursday and Friday night mostly parked in front of the TV. She also has 2 cute small dogs, one of who likes laps.

Visa preface:
Before planning my trip to Tana, I did some research about what I should need. I emailed the Malagasy embassy in DC (who originally issued my visa) to ask where I needed to go, and if there was anything I needed to bring. They told me nothing about what to bring, but gave me the website for the Ministère des Affairs Etrangères. On the website, there was no visa information. There was also no contact information, in email or phone form. The phone number that DC gave me did not work – it was an old number. When I emailed them to tell them of the contact mistake, they told me that they had no other contact information. I just needed to go to Tana no matter what – I could not do anything from Fianar.

Friday:
In the morning, Olga (receptionist) and I took a taxi to the Ministère des Affairs Etragères to see someone who works there that she went to high school with. “Excellent! She knows someone!”, I thought naively. We went out to the parking lot with him (kind of weird not to stay in the building) so that he could examine my passport. He seemed to think that it would be no problem – but we’d have to come back in the afternoon to see the right person. In the meantime we went to some other office where I got a notorized copy of my passport – because I would have to leave the original in Tana for a few days – the notorized copy will be perfectly legal for me to carry around with me in Fianar. Notorizing was sort of weird. Waited in 3 different lines, and had to pick up the copy a few hours later.

For lunch, I went to the American Cookie Shop, which happens to be a 2 minute walk from the ERI office. It’s as close as Madagascar gets to a Starbucks (although there’s only one, and the coffee comes from within the country). I had perhaps the best latte I’ve ever had (something to do with the fact that I haven’t had one in a month), a bagel pizza, and a cookie. I sat down and wrote in my journal, and it felt like a nice comfy American (or French) coffee shop. After having such a lunch, I felt even more confident and optimistic that I’d have my visa request in order in time to go shopping with Theresa and Rebecca at 2PM.

Well, Jacky (ERI driver) took me to pick up my notorized passport copy, which went just fine – very quick. We stopped at an ATM so I could get out enough money to cover visa costs, and then proceeded to the Ministère des Affairs Etrangères. Monsieur Donné, the man that Olga knew, took me to the “right” office, and told me to send him a text to let him know when I was done to let him know that it went ok. He told me that after I talked to the right guy, he would talk to him to try to speed things up. He was very nice, and made me feel at ease about the process.

Ok, I was writing that as I waited for the “right person”. The “right person” told me that because I have the stamp “transformable en long séjour”, I’m sort of all set – but I have to officially extend it at the Ministère de l’Intérieur. So, Jacky took me there. At reception the guy told me to go to the building next door and go to Porte 5. Porte 5 said residency permits, while Porte 7 said visas de séjour. So now I’m waiting in the hallway for the Porte 7 people to get back from lunch. Wait, I just got in trouble for sitting in the hall, so I was ushered into Porte 5 to wait…man, I hope this all works out.

So, the girl who was sitting next to me asked if I’d was there to pick up a visa or to make a demande for one. When I said I was there to apply/make a demande, she said I had to go one more door down. I asked a woman in that office what I had to do, and she handed me 3 forms without saying a word as she walked out the door. With frustration escalating, I asked a guy behind a desk if he could help me. I explained the situation, and he confirmed that the forms the woman gave me were the right ones. He then gave me a big list of stuff that I need to complete the dossier to extend my visa. Some of them had to be obtained in Fianar (like proof of where I live). When I expressed concern that I couldn’t come back to Tana again, he said it can all be done by mail through the Bureau du Districte in Fianar – ‘very simple’. I was very near tears after he said that. I repeated my interpretation of what I needed according to him about 3 times in different ways to make sure I understood properly. He was quite nice, and seemed to know what he was talking about. Still near tears, I set out back to the car feeling dejected, frustrated beyond belief, and in need of a beer.

It was nearing 3’oclock, so I called Theresa to see where they were at. Jacky dropped me off where they could pick me up, and I decided that I would just try to have fun.

After talking their ears off to get the ordeal off my chest we proceeded to a tourist store where you can get a lot of different stuff all in one spot. I did a little Christmas shopping and found myself a sweatshirt for cold Malagasy mornings. We had manicures and pedicures at Theresa’s house that evening, which was nice and relaxing.

Rebecca was staying at another friends house for the weekend, so Theresa and I had a lazy morning. I got up early and watched Larry King at like 7AM while I was doing situps and saw that Obama picked Biden for his VP. Theresa volunteers on many Saturdays at a veterinary clinic/animal rescue shelter, so I went to do that with her. We mostly just socialized with all of the dogs there to give them some extra love. We spent quite a bit of time in the puppy area, and I wanted one SO bad! One of the adult dogs was also sweet enough for me to take home. (no, I didn’t actually take her home…) On the way home we stopped at her crazy friend Sophia’s house to say hello and let their respective dogs play together for awhile. (More on expat lifestyles in a later post) In the afternoon I went for a walk near Theresa’s, and then got ready to go out to dinner and to some sort of Malagasy concert at the Carlton.

Dinner was really good – most of the people in the group of 12 or so work at the embassy, and we had a delicious meal. The ‘concert’ was actually more of a ball, and it was a little stuffy. The guy that sang seemed a lot more wild in the picture on the ticket. At our schindig he was in a suit. Nonetheless though, it was a nice time and it was fun to be at the Ritz. People were walking around selling paper hats. I tried one on, and Gabe’s brother (recently engaged) said it made me look like a stripper. The picture that I will post soon doesn’t quite capture it – I think it was more stripperish when I had it on crooked. Anyway, fortunately Theresa is also a bit of an early leaver of late night social events, so we headed home by about midnight.

Sunday we went to a brunch at the vet’s house. It was a very lovely meal, served in courses by her staff, and it was French style (i.e. lasted about 2 hours). Everyone brought their dogs, so after eating we all watched the dogs play together etc.

Riding home in an ERI SUV instead of a taxi-brousse was really nice. And now, let the visa obtaining begin…

Church choir fun

Since I got back on Friday night, that left Saturday free for me to go to choir rehearsal with Nani (instead of waiting for next week). We walked down together, and the rehearsal was at someone’s house right near where I work. It was just in his living room, and there were about 20 people there, almost none of whose names I remember. Nani had warned me that the music they read is solfa instead of solfege, so I wasn’t sure if I’d do too well. Turns out, solfa is Malagasy French for English solfege, and Malagasy French solfege means the 5 lined staff that most of us are used to reading. I’ll have to take a picture at some point, but a line of their music will have 4 lines (soprano, alto, tenor, bass) that each have letters on them, with words underneath everything. A line will look like this :
S s | d m s| l. s m| r d _| etc
There are whole hymnals full of it in the church! I’m going to see if I can get ahold of one to bring home.

It’s just like ear training class ! Just the do re mi scale with only first letters. A dot means it’s held longer but the next note is shorter, a dash means the note is carried until the dot ends. The vertical lines are measures. So, we can 100% speak the same language even though I don’t understand much of what the director is saying ! It was like feeling instantly comfortable and fitting in. The choir is going to Mananjary to give some concerts in a few weeks, and I think I’m invited. It’d be leaving on a Thursday, so I don’t know if I can really leave, but it’s nice that they want to include me.

On Sunday, I went to church and sang with them there too. The choir is actually really good – they all sing out, but still blend pretty well, and have a great sense of pitch. The girl I sit by, Lydia, has an awesome voice – very powerful. On Sunday afternoon most of the choir members were getting together to make koba, so they invited me along for that too. Koba (pronounced koo-bah) is a banana/rice kind of dessert wrapped in banana leaves. First, you hold the banana leaves over coals to melt them a little and make them pliable.

Then, you make the rice flour. Yes, make it. A picture explains better :

Once the rice is pounded, we sift it, and keep doing so till everything has been crushed.

Meanwhile, inside others were making a mixture of bananas, rice flour, and sugar. You slop a little of the banana mixture on a banana leaf, sprinkle some crushed peanuts on top of it, and fold the banana leaf around it.

After that it gets cooked. Double boiled maybe ? We left before it got to that point. Almost all of the conversation was in Malagasy, but a lot of people asked me things in French. Yanitra, the woman whose house it was at invited me over on Wednesday night for dinner/prayers I think. One of the guys crushing the rice, Nar, kept saying, ‘Ça va, Callista ?’, because it was about all he knew in French. He seemed to make people laugh a lot.

Anyway, all in all I think that this church choir connection is going to provide some lovely opportunites to get to know people, and Nani said that they often sing classical music too, so before I leave we should be doing some Mozart or Handel.

In other Malagasy social news, I really like living below Sophie and Zoë. They invited me up for lunch on Sunday again, and Sophie said she’d like to pretty much plan on that every weekend that we’re all there. They are really sweet girls, and it’s nice to have people my age living here too.

Also, I got some peanut butter from the Peace Corps house. They commission someone to make it, and the proceeds go to put a poor girl through college or something benevolent like that.

Ranamofana National Park

This past weekend I had every intention of camping in Ranamofana National Park for 2 nights, since Friday was a holiday. So, I packed up my camping stuff, a little bit of food, and set off to take a taxi-brousse to the park. A French couple was sitting next to me, and once we arrived at the park we began talking about logistics of visiting Malagasy national parks. They charge 25,000 ariary (between 15 and 20 dollars) a day to be in the park at all, camping is dirt cheap, but you must have a guide with you if you venture into the park. Guides are 60,000 ariary a day, or less for shorter hikes. In other words, staying for the whole weekend was not going to be a fiscally responsible thing for me to do. I left my bag at park headquarters, and the French couple (Babe, who is a doctor, and David who does I’m not sure what) invited me to join a 6 hour tour with another French couple they had just met. That saved me a lot of money, and gave me some people to talk to. They were young, though a good few years older than me. On the hike we did see lemurs (pictures posted in the previous entry). We even saw the rare golden bamboo lemur, but my picture of that one was blurry. Also highlighted were a couple of thumb sized chameleons (couldn’t get a good photo), a couple of more common lemurs, a sifaka, and a sportive lemur. The sifaka was alone, and the guide explained that his ‘wife’ of sorts and children were recently eaten by a fossa (puma-like predator, rarely seen). They’re normally social family oriented critters, so it was sad to hear that story. Although we did see cool wildlife, it felt a little Disney – guides found the animals, lots of white people gawked at them.

The trail continued out of the forest to the big cascade (also pictured in previous post), which was a beautiful place to take a break. Continuing on, we wound through a very small Tanala (ethnic group/tribe on the East side of the forrest corridor going from Ranamofana to Andringitra) village, and some farmed land. We got to see banana trees, pineapples, raffia trees, avocado trees, coffee plants, and various other fruit trees, which was actually quite interesting. Here is a particularly nice ravenala we saw on the way back.

The hike ended in the town of Ranamofana, and one of the French couples had rented a car (driver included of course), so they let me ride back to Fianar with them. One of the nice things about having a private car is stopping wherever you want, so we stopped to take a picture of this sign :

Overall, I have to admit that the whole park experience was a little underwhelming. A very nice hike to do in a day, but I was hoping to feel like I was a little more out in the wild. Good fresh air, and my legs were sore the next day, so it was still a good day. And, I did see lemurs… ☺

Ranamofana Natl Park pics!

taxi brousse (bush taxi) – how i got to the national park

gecko on a pole

one of the lemurs

sifaka

sportive lemur – nocturnal, apparantly can sleep with eyes open

cascade

Social outlets

I have to say that I’m not crazy about quite a bit of Fianarantsoa. Part of it will just take getting used to, but the polluted garbage ridden part will doubtfully grow on me. I just adore where I live though… when I got home (out of breath as always) Mariette (café owner) was standing outside and told me about a group of Greek people that came in today who didn’t speak French or English, but had a great time. I sat down inside for some fresh-squeezed orange juice and talked to Richard (Mariette’s husband) and her son (who’s name I keep forgetting)  for awhile. They both play guitar so apparently we’re going to have a music night sometime. Then a woman named Nani who lives next door stopped by to see me about joining the church choir. Karen and I talked about it the other day (I asked her about it), so she talked to Nani about it. She made sure to specify that there are no obligations, that it’s ok if I’m gone sometimes, that I don’t need to convert, and that I’ll just be a nice addition to the ‘ambiance’ of the choir. I’ll go to my first rehearsal next Friday.