My taxi brusse ride stopped for awhile last night and when it came back these animals were on top of the van. As we began moving they would sometimes scream. It reminded me of The Silence of the Lambs. Goats have a very specific scream. Like a woman about to be murdered.

As I sat there, looking at the stars and listening to Malagasy soft rock, I felt so lucky to be there. It is like there are several worlds and before I only had seen one.

After two months in Niger, one year in Madagascar and then six months in the USA....I am back in Madagascar! I am here six weeks--one month of teaching and two weeks of vacation/karaoke.

It is truly a gift to be able to go back and forth between cultures. It allows my mind to integrate the information from both cultures in a more meaningful way. More to come. But I will say this: the longer I am here (three weeks so far) the less I want to go back (to the USA). There are people I want to go back to, but culturally I feel nervous.

The flow of life is much more natural here, it feels more human and that is something I find difficult to part with.

At some point in my early twenties I realized that I didn't have to have kids--that it wasn't required--and since then I have been thinking it over. It was in Madagascar that I decided having kids was for me.........yet after only four months in the United States I find myself feeling afraid of having children. Why the change of heart?

Let's see....

In the United States you have to carry toys, food, clothes, car seat and so on every where you go.In Madagascar your baby is on your back.

In the United States you are judged if your baby cries for more than two seconds.In Madagascar babies cry sometimes.

In the United States you must breastfeed in secret because boobs are just too pornographic to show.In Madagascar you can breastfeed anywhere around anyone as it is the most natural thing in the world and clearly nonsexual.

In the United States you have to explain to your children why you are saying no.In Madagascar you have authority over your children and no is no.

In the United States you watch your children alone in your house and are a wimp if you need help.In Madagascar you raise your children with the neighborhood women.

In the United States you leave your child at daycare when you work or you stay home alone with them all day.In Madagascar you take your child with you (at a fruit stand) and spend the day with other women who also have babies.

In the United States you have to pay for a babysitter and you aren't supposed to rely on other people much to raise your children.In Madagascar you can expect the full support of your family and friends including free 'babysitting'.

In the United States you can't physically discipline your children you must politely verbalize everything.In Madagascar you can swat your kids to show them you are serious. (It works too).

In the United States you treat your kids like siblings.In Madagascar you are allowed to be the alpha dog of your kids.

In the United States kids have adult supervision at all times.In Madagascar it is OK to leave kids alone with each other even at young ages.

Having kids seems a lot natural in Madagascar than it does in the United States.

This last weekend I reunited with my cat Daisy Face. I had not seen her in 18 months. During the ten years that I have had Daisy she has slept on my feet--so we are quite close in that odd cat-human way. One might say that we love each other. Indeed, I have composed songs for her and use a voice with her that I do not use for humans or even babies.

I missed Daisy quite a bit but I think it is now safe to say that she missed me more. Last night I woke up several times to cat kisses (sand paper) on my arm. At one point she was holding my hand (no lie) with her little paw. She refuses to go outside and only wants to sleep on my bed. When I first picked her up from the lovely people who were watching her she ran to me from the driveway dramatically!

She may also be feeling a little bit insecure these past couple of days because I think my general vibe toward animals is a little bit more Malagasy than it used to be. Stores like Petco don't make as much sense to me. I say things like, "She'll eat it if she's hungry" about toddlers, let alone animals. Malagasy people certainly have pets and love their pets but it isn't quite to the psychological heights that we often understand pets in the US. It is a bit more like a farm cat or farm dog.

That said, I still love Daisy Face and she still loves me. It was a very sweet reunion and I am sure our love with only grow stronger with time as I remember the joys of snuggly sweet loving Daisy Face!

They say that readjusting to life in the United States is actually

harder than adjusting to life in Peace Corps. I disagree. I

suppose it is harder if you are expecting it to be seamless--which is

what many volunteers expect. I think it is also harder if you are a

younger volunteer--because you come back and find that your friends

are now in mid-adulthood and when you left they were l playing video

games and cramming for finals. Essentially you are thrown into a

period of life that is weird no matter what (the few years after

college graduation). In my case I am finding this process much

easier, though less gratifying, than adjusting to life in Madagascar.One important thing to note is that the Peace Corps volunteer fantasy

of talking nonstop about your experiences does not happen. Don't

expect it. It won't happen. And just know that it will be a weird

process full of mind blowing trips to seven eleven. It is a good idea

to have a job and living situation set up before you return to the

United States. I'm sure the readjustment process is harder depending

on how long you are in Peace Corps as well as how rural your post was.

But if you plan a few months to take it easy (not work too much) and

integrate your Peace Corps life with your US life--you'll be fine!It has been over two months for me and although I still don't feel

normal, I feel fine. It's more the sense that I don't fit in as well

as I used to (and let's face it, I never fit in that well). I'm okay

with that. In the words of Gertrude Stein, "We grow neither better

nor worse as we grow old, but more like ourselves."

DRESSING SHABBILY IN PEACE CORPS! I FEEL SO FREE! AND SO WHITE?

Peace Corps volunteers, generally speaking, experience aesthetic freedom abroad. We wander around the host countries dressed like shit. We shouldn't. It is considered disrespectful and we just don't realize it. But we do. We feel so free without the pressures of American appearance. We don't have movies, friends, magazines and billboards constantly telling us we need to look this way or that way. Another significant reason we look so shabby is that we are adjusting to doing laundry by hand and to shopping from second hand piles of clothes. This is really a factor. (Most) Malagasy people know how to frip shop and do laundry by hand. Indeed, washing clothes by hand is part of our technical training. I was a very slow learner. It is harder than it sounds. Finally, it must be said, having white skin connotes status in many (all?) countries and we rely on that (whether we admit it or realize it) to counteract our pathetic appearance--if we happen to be white. So like most volunteers, I was pretty shabby looking in Peace Corps. It is all true. The freedom from feeling judged by the US culture aesthetically. The disorientation of buying and cleaning clothes. The reliance on skin color to communicate professionalism (wow).MINIMALIST LEANINGS IN THE US! WAIT, BUT ARE THESE PANTS A GOOD REPRESENTATION OF WHO I AM?

When I first returned to the US, and to this day, I have simply asked friends if they have extra clothes they want to get rid of. Of course, in the United States, everyone has a garbage bag or two of clothes they don't care about. I have been wearing these rejects and feeling like I look great. My clothes are newish, freshly laundered and so on. I marveled at the laundry machine. It has been two months since I got back. My perception of my garbage bag wardrobe is slowly changing. I am starting to think about how the clothes represent who I am. "Is this shirt me?" No. It is a shirt. You are you. Material goods will never represent who I am nor do they need to. They simply need to function.

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?It says something that I want to dress more nicely in the United States than in Madagascar. I certainly think the United States culture prizes physical appearance and encourages the spending of money on appearance. This pressure affects all of us. But I also must wonder, who is it that I want to impress here that I didn't want to impress in Madagascar? I wonder, was it a latent show of disrespect that I dressed so shabbily? I don't like thinking that but not liking it doesn't make it false. Even more so, and certainly true, it was a conscious understanding of how much power my skin held. I didn't have to dress to impress. I was white. Being white connoted wealth, education and intelligence. It also connoted snobbery, arrogance and pompousness. Either way--it was nonstop specialty treatment. I am still white but it feels more secondary now. In Madagascar I felt white all day long. Even in my dreams I knew I was white. I relied on the status my skin color. I used it. I totally did. It is rude to use your skin color as an accessory.

I can't squat here, it is considered rude.  My first week at work (in a bookstore) I found myself squatting--I mean really squatting down to the ground--to shelf the books and I realized that squatting isn't acceptable in the United States.   i could just kind of feel that I was doing something culturally weird.  You also can't sit on the floor unless you are a child or a teenager.  I am short.  Chairs are too tall for me.  I like to sit on the floor.  I like to sit low down, squatting or on a low step.  I like to squat.  Chairs are smaller in Madagascar.  I am smaller too and it fit me better.   It is freezing cold.  When I am outside, my entire body seizes up as if to say, "Get inside now you are going to die."   I often think of how societies, technologies and cultures have evolved based on the weather.   It is something I can consider for hours.   We become outraged if we have to wait but in actuality everything in the US happens very quickly.   The odd part is that even though everything is quite efficient I absolutely feel that I have less time in the United States.  I find myself running errands that don't make sense but are part of life.  For example, I had to reschedule a standardized test I am taking because I was sick and on pain medication (the kind that makes you foggy).   In order to reschedule my test I had to go to the doctor (again), get a note and then fax it to the testing center in some other state.   Why?  In Madagascar I once ran out of money because I didn't realize that there was a 10,000 ariary minimum in your bank account.  I was planning to use that 10,000 until my pay day.   So there I was--no money and out of food.   I met with the manager of the bank and told him I needed the money (that was mine--the 10,000) because I needed to buy food and didn't know about that rule.  He puffed on his cigarette, listened to me (probably in shock to see a foreigner in financial distress) and gave it to me.  I thanked him.  Both were annoying errands--but in Madagascar I was taken at my word.  I think a lot of errands in the US are ridiculous side effects of our rigidity.    I took an online personality test for a job I applied to.  One of the trick questions was about whether or not you like to nap.  I am pretty sure you were supposed to say that you don't like naps, or at least you shouldn't strongly agree that napping is awesome.   Really?    The bus is never full.   And in Utah people don't use public transportation like they do in bigger cities.  It is often considered low class.   So there I am on a super fancy heated 40 seat bus with three other people.    In Madagascar I had this delusional feeling that I was more in touch with the poor (or regular) people.  I guess when you join Peace Corps you are just picturing it that way--that you will be working with the regular people and not with the people who are 'better off.'  For a long time, I specifically avoided making friends with higher class Malagasy people.  What misguided sense of reality or duty fostered this I cannot say.  I did like the openness it created inside of me--the desire to connect and to not judge people based on their income.   I really didn't judge people because they were poor.  It felt beautiful and it changed the way I interacted.  The judging of higher class people is something I look back on and sigh--because they often reached out to me more, I think because in a country like Madagascar educated people feel a certain togetherness.  I see nothing wrong with this now.  In the United States I make no effort whatsoever to be in touch with the poor (or regular) people.  Somehow in my mind it made sense to me in Madagascar but in my own country I feel distant from people who I can tell are really poor.   Why?  I am polite, sure, but I feel distant.   I judged higher class Malagasy people for distancing themselves from "the countryside" or the more poor people (which, it must be said, was a more compassionate judging than in the US because people don't tend to see poverty as self determined).  I judged people for seeking me out because I was foreign and educated.   And yet here I am in my own country doing the same thing.  How many judgements will it take for me to realize that judging someone is like throwing a blanket on top of them.  You only see your blanket.  You don't see the person at all.                                        

I thought it could be interesting to share some of my journal entries from my Peace Corps service to give a sense of what it is I wrote while I sat at epiceries around the country drinking cold cokes all afternoon. Don't worry, I won't share anything that should make you uncomfortable—I'll keep the extra juicy stuff to myself!    August 21, 2009 I got my invitation.  Niger. October 17th.  What have I gotten myself into? I wish I was jealous of someone else doing this—Niger. What was I thinking?  I'm terrified.  I need to do some mega thinking about this. I need to find a way to think about this that calms me down. This is the wildest thing I've ever done BY FAR. This is the grand prize winner for Monica's outward manifestations of her inners. This is totally insane and unreal and unthinkable. And it is 100% totally real. I'm going to Niger in less than two months.  I must go and fetch the water, 'til the day that I am grown. November 16, 2009 When I can finally speak Hausa (the language) what pray tell will the millet woman and I talk about?   Maybe I need to stop looking for a friend and start just trying to help because I've been through 18th grade and if I can't do something meaningful with that much education then what on earth is it for?  I saw a chariot spider today. It is the biggest spider I have ever seen in my entire life that was not in a cage. And I imagine them everywhere. In my bed, for example. December 31, 2009 My face is growing wings. February 21 2010 I feel sad and lost.  I hope tomorrow I will feel better. And better the next day too. I am going to say I am sick until I feel better. Today I tried to walk around the town and the smells of the city made me sick. It's ugly to me all of the sudden. Like I am seeing it for the first time. It's so poor. There is garbage all over. There are people everywhere in tattered clothes with no shoes on. This is my new home for the next two years. It's so poor. I fantasize about the United States sometimes. How clean and nice everything is. I had no idea. The way I see the world has been permanently altered.  I need to be open and aware so that I can process the million things I have seen in the past few months that I have never seen before. It's overwhelming. I feel like a spy from the first world. I feel like I felt when I left for college—seeing a whole new world and feeling the destruction on my previous world view. Maybe that's why I am shaky because I am between beliefs. I am totally confused. I know nothing and experience things everyday that are unknown to me. February 21 2010 What am I doing here? Tomorrow I will wake up again. Things will be better.   March 18, 2010 Not much time on this laptop battery. No electricity or running water for me nowadays. Living in a new house in a smaller town, on the outskirts of the city I was just living in.  I have been in Peace Corps for almost five months and have not actually worked yet. Not really. It feels weird. The idea of being in the Peace Corps is so much more exciting than actually being in the Peace Corps in some ways. It is a good thing. But I am not helping anyone. Yet?  I hope it is a matter of it just not happening yet.  There is a leper colony nearby where I live. There is an albino woman and child in this town.  When I first saw them I gave them a "we are both white" look and the boy knew I looked at him that way, I can tell he isn't sure why white people look at him that way. People live in houses that are ten feet by ten feet. People are barefoot everywhere. Strangers say my name and greet me like I am a celebrity.  Although the other night, while cooking by candle light, I danced to music and felt total joy. I danced around the house in a way that I have not done since I was in early Jr. High. I did ballet moves. Things you would never do if anyone was there. Things that happen when you are seriously by yourself. March 27, 2010 I can't believe this is my life. It is really not working for me at the moment but I have a special department in my psyche whose primary duties are to talk me out of quitting the Peace Corps. So their committee, as you can imagine, infiltrates any skepticism I feel for Peace Corps.   I have no privacy whatsoever. None.  I feel like I am at work all the time. Always.  I cannot speak Malagasy and it is a problem.  I could do so much here, already, I would be working—but I can't talk.  I do nothing. April 13, 2010 I have read many books since I came to my own 'village' in Peace Corps. Yesterday I read a book that was six hundred pages. I am not a fast reader (because I say the words out loud in my head as I am reading) (because I like words).  Out of uncertainty about what else to do, and an intense desire to escape my environment, I read almost nonstop. This reading, which reached its apex last night, is excessive to the point of making me wonder if I oughtn't either study literature or become a novelist. I have, of course, never even come close to writing a novel. My writing skills have improved over the years due to academic papers and exhaustive and private journal entries. I have never even come close to creating a character—unless you would consider that character me. And on that note sometimes I think that is exactly what journals are—a presentation of myself as a character to myself so that I can understand what on earth is going on.  In other words, I have been reading a lot. Some would say too much. April 20, 2010 A few days are all I will remember when I am 100 years old. Some of those days will be among the most despairing and devastating of my life. Other days will be sweet candle lit soft smelling memories like snuggling with my dog as a teenager. There will be brightly lit memories too—of 3am falafel in New York City. There will also be memories of my dreams. Things I never did but wished to do. It is this 100 year old woman that I answer to. If I concentrate I can hear her voice telling me what to do. April 29, 2010 I got so depressed in the capital city, Antananarivo, this last visit there that no part of me wanted to come back to my "town." The imagined stress that return would incur was just too much. And I wasn't wrong. Even in the dark, as the sun was gone, children called to me through my window & scared me to death. "Monica" emphasis moe-knee-kah.  I am starting to hate my name. At this point I do these things in Peace Corps:  Read novels (very little nonfiction), pull water from a well, pee and poop in a chamber pot, shower with a bucket in a wooden enclosure covered in bird shit, cook…. I guess it sounds nice but I admit to this day I find almost all of it utterly disorienting. August 14 2010 This is why I love to move and travel. Since October my mind, soul and heart have—like the Grinch—expanded to the point where they do not fit inside of my body anymore. At ever life stage I see new things because I am at a different level of maturity. It is a blessing that I feel so happy now. August 26 2010 Today the students begged me to stay for four years so I could help them get masters degrees by being an advisor. I guess they don't really have advisors—or the ones they have only come up a few times a year. Apparently there is a waiting list of some kind. September 3 2010 The world is as small or as big as I am. My hope can be silent, shy, overwhelmed, humiliated It can also be a marching band downtown I have been disappointed in my intellect and my heart When they are confused When they cannot integrate the data sets Of my soul And what my eyes simply see It's too big and too small Too complicated and too simple The evolutionary history of planets The what and the why My whole self A traced and trained psychology Feeling so deeply and so clearly at times Ultimately confused I wake up thinking every morning Aftertaste of dreams Some times anxious 31 years old When I was 22 I knew almost nothing The space between my mind and my experience Was more expansive than the multiverse The feeings, so primal, from my upbringing Were tightly tucked together Hidden even from me My sensitivity has peaked, I am more alive now I can see now the size of my own history September 13 2010 A guy just bought a beer, opened it, got in his car, took a drink and drove off beer in hand. Ah, Madagascar. The US is so…………..legislated. (Later that day) I get to thinking sometimes that nothing matters when the opposite is true. Everything matters. And, the world changes every day. I know I am not brilliant. I know I am just a regular person. But I have education and have been empowered. I have wealth and freedom and am obligated to give back. September 25 2010   I made a baby cry in the market today. I smiled at the baby and it started to cry. I am certain it was my skin color.  Maybe that's how racism starts.  Disoriented babies. October 23 2010 Short term job ideas:  African bike tour cook, Antarctica sous chef, something with scientists, teaching English somewhere like the middle east, backpacking tour guide, African or middle eastern NGO, supervisor for study abroad November 1st 2010 I feel like I could eat a house. October 8 2010 I never write about Madagascar. So how is Madagascar? Madagascar is good. I feel largely useless here or confused about 'helping' or sharing culture. Is it just my 'white guilt'? I wonder what it feels like to be 3rd world. I wonder. Life is always complicated. No matter where you live or what you believe. Madagascar doesn't need me. Neither does the US. But here I am, born nonetheless with an adventuresome spirit living a life. October 20 2010 I picture my facebook lists of music and books I picture myself shopping at target I picture myself judging republicans I picture myself In the united states Watching oprah at the gym I have compassion for the woman I picture But she is a stranger Forgotten   In the absence of the united states My opinions are soft now, baby birds Their roots exposed My preferences are meaningless now, little buds My decisions, my divisions, my traits, my personality Irrelevant now Simplified, filtered, clarified In the absence of the united states   My borders are open now My opinions are like memories Or half remembered dreams I had it all organized in the united states A cohesive intellectual and emotional Sequence Everything in its place Solidified Now I can't find anything My judgments feel like paper tigers In the wake Of so much   My limits are not what I thought Like skin they stretch Pregnant by experience People will politely ask me someday What was peace corps like? I will say It was neat and I will wonder Can they see the stretch marks on my eyes? The knowing that on the deepest level My only response My only judgment My only opinion is Confusion and awe Discovered at an epicerie in Madagascar and under a Nigerien sky My sense that at my root That is who I am   And that the only feeling I trust Is love

Now that I am in the United States I can use youtube and I found this great music video which was filmed in Diego (where I was living in Madagascar).  The island you see was right next to the university and the market you see is the market I shopped at.   The dancing you see is the dancing I came to know and love and it is the same dancing I will likely try to employ the next time I am in a dance situation.     http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ulkcbXDvK0   Enjoy!

French is widely spoken in Madagascar. Like Spanglish (a mixture of English and Spanish) in the United States, Madagascar has its own unique blend of French and Malagasy.

I was recently wondering what an English and Malagasy mixture might look like and I think it would go something like this.

All we really need to do is make all of the worords longerer and thenenen add some 'y's and a's toa the endsy and it willillillilla have a Malagasy flairairy and styly to it.

I also think there will be a definite need to add the breathed 'h' (surrounded by vowels) into the mihix as well.

Other suggestions?

I have been back in the United States for one month.    Only one month ago I was able to be impressed fairly easily by things.   If a restaurant had a toilet I thought that was pretty cool.  If there was toilet paper I was a bit disoriented.   If there was a full sink I would plan to go there to wash my hands.   I even had a system of understanding the grades of latrines.   When I flew on Air Madagascar I was impressed by the pre-packaged nuts onboard.  In short, I was satisfied easily and my preferences were at very easy to please levels.     It wasn't always that way.   My first months out of the United States were spent largely feeling nagged by preferences.  I wished things were nicer, easier, cleaner and so on.  I missed what I had come to prefer.   And I had to realize that my preferences were just that--before I left the United States I thought many of my preferences were needs.   Fast forward to my re-entry into the United States.   At first I felt overwhelmed by it all.  All of the roads, powerlines, cars, buildings, concrete--and everything is nice.  Even McDonalds.   Every bathroom is perfect and if it isn't you can be outraged.   But slowly I feel myself developing preferences.   I want this type of shampoo.  I just like it better.   I want this type of shirt.  I just like it better.   I want this seat on the near empty train.  I just like it better.   I want this meal.  I just like it better.   And then sometimes when I cant have what I just like better I feel put out.  Because somewhere in my mind I am already forgetting the difference between a preference and a need.   It is something to keep track of I think.     Aside from shelter and food, the only other thing I actually need is love.   Luckily I have had all three in Niger, Madagascar and the United States.     As for my preferences, I can accept them so long as they are kept in perspective, so long as I don't begin to believe that they are anything more than that.

It was brought to my attention today that there now exists in the United States something called Dental Spas. In addition to dental work, they massage your head, neck and hands.

People join Peace Corps for a lot of reasons--most commonly a desire to help and a sense of adventure. One reason people don't join Peace Corps (that I know of ) is to diet. However, based on my personal experience The Peace Corps Diet is a rock solid approach not only to weight loss but also to a new perception of food.

In writing about readjusting to life in the United States I would be not telling the whole story if I didn't mention how food and eating has been one of the largest adjustments so far.

In both Niger and Madagascar, I was very rarely satisfied by the food I ate on a 'that was delicious' level. I was, however, getting all of the nutrients I needed. Because food didn't delight me in the way that I was used to, I did not eat as much. My bodies reaction to not eating as much (and not eating American foods) was to lose 30 pounds. No diet, no therapist, no reiki, no hypnosis, no surgery, no positive thinking--just a physical reaction to eating healthy foods in appropriate proportions. This is not uncommon in Peace Corps for people who have some weight to lose.

So now I am in the United States. My new eating patterns happened out of force and I didn't really think about it much (except to fantasize about foods I missed). Many volunteers plan out their first few meals in the US but I was afraid of American food. I was afraid I would love it and that I would simply revert back to a lifestyle where I ate too much and where I ate foods that are not healthy.

To my delight the opposite has been true.

I mean nothing rude in this, as I understand it completely, but I can assure you that Americans eat too much in general. Eating at a regular restaurant is too much. It is too much food. Everywhere I turn people are offering me food. Everywhere I go you can buy food. Every meal I am served is 2-3 times larger than I need. Food, Food, Food.

The challenge I suppose is to continue to refuse the gigantic portions in an effort to preserve my health.

My perception of food is different. I see food as nutrition instead of as recreation. The amount of food I eat depends is based on when I feel satisfied and full--not on how delicious the food is. I allow myself to become hungry--and actually have a stomach growling--regularly instead of preemptive feeding as though the experience of hunger is unacceptable. I remember feeling hunger regularly in Madagascar and Niger and it is a normal feeling (I think) when you are not eating too much at every meal. I can also recall large spans in my life in the US where I never experienced the sensation of hunger at all....because I was so consistently well fed.

I think I always enjoyed being a little bit 'bigger' in the US as a way to show solidarity with women--to distinguish myself from not being the type of woman who is weight obsessed and constantly dieting. This is another change of perception--which is that my health is not a political message. It is my health. Size may have implications in our society, that is sure, but I cannot jeopardize my own health and call it feminism.

These changes are not necessarily indicative of Malagasy peoples perception of food--rather it is the my US/American reaction to the new diet. This doesn't top the charts in terms of great things about Peace Corps--but in these first few weeks (especially as it has been the holidays) it has stood out constantly as I tried to eat normally (what had become normal to me) and found that my new eating patterns were totally at odds with the culture. We always hear that Americans are bigger and eat too much and its true. Our whole culture is tapped into eating unhealthy foods in large portions. I knew that before but now I know it--and I can 100% see myself as a participant. I have eaten unhealthy foods in large portions my entire life....wow. Unlikely lessons from Peace Corps....

*Some volunteers gain weight, it must be said. Although in my group most volunteers either stayed the same (because they were already fit) or lost weight (if they had some weight to lose).

I am now in the United States of America....and have been for one week.  I plan to keep blogging for a little while.   This first week has been interesting.  Before I left Madagascar, I did two very important things:  1)  I secured a short-term job that started immediately 2)  I skimmed a book about readjusting from time spent as an expatriate (cannot recall the title)   I am working at the best bookstore in the world--a bookstore I worked at many years ago.  Instead of being overwhelmed by Wal-Mart and other big box stores (which I can assure you are incomprehensible after shopping at an outdoor market for so long) I am simply putting away books and enjoying the second-hand knowledge this fosters.  Also, without something to do for a few hours a day I would have more time to just feel "weird" as one returned Peace Corps Volunteer described.  She said, "Don't stress out.  Sometimes you are going to look around a room and just feel weird."   If I had nothing to do all day except browse jobs on craigslist I am sure I would be in a different mood.   I also skimmed a great book which gave some wonderful advice.  It said that one of the hardest parts of returning from living overseas is that you expect other people to be endlessly fascinated by your journey AND at the same time you find their lives boring.  In other words, you are an asshole while thinking other people are not paying attention to you.   "I don't care about your life!  Don't you want to hear another story about how it was in Madagascar!"   So the book was my intervention and I have been focusing on asking other people what they have been up to.  It has been working well.  As far as Madagascar stories I do sneak them in in passing.  It would be hard not to since it is my frame of reference right now.   As for reverse culture shock, that is happening in its own way.  When I arrived in Niger I was in absolute culture shock.  Everything was new to me I had to reorganize my entire categorization system to make room for how things looked.  It is not like that now.  I am familiar with everything.  Yet, all day every day I notice things differently.  Everything seems so rich, so full of concrete, so well timed, so organized and so mechanical almost.  It is sort of like meeting an ex years later.  They are familiar but you see them with new eyes.  Things do not look the same to me.  I guess I choose that comparison because I remember why the United States made sense to me, but at the moment it doesn't.   I am more in touch with why I left.   That said, I do not feel bitter or angry or judgmental.  I feel like I felt in Madagascar.  Receptive and confused.  :)        

Well Folks, the time has come for me to return to the United States of America. That's right--I will no longer be living in Madagascar.......which has a lot of implications...including..I will no longer hear Waka Waka several times a day. I will also have to start wearing shoes instead of flip flops. No more friend bananas on the street--But I digress--I thought what would be best to write about is my first attempt at a question I will surely be asked for the rest of my life....

Question: Should I join the Peace Corps?

Answer: Yes. I think you should join Peace Corps. I would not recommend Peace Corps to most people but because you are a person who has seriously thought about it—I think you should definitely go. It is an experience you will not regret. You will have 10,000 experiences you would have otherwise not had. These experiences will permanently alter your understanding of the world for the rest of your life--in positive ways if you allow it. And yes, you will get a chance to ‘help’ or ‘work’ but not in the way you are imagining. I slept under the Nigerien sky and woke to moonlight. One of my female students said to me, “After that debate we did, it’s strange, but I am not as afraid to speak up to people.” Enough said.

Our culture is what we make it and our culture is going global. We are spreading American culture throughout the world with our companies and our media. Our business norms, our food, our language, our music, our films, our porn—are all making their way around the world. One of my Malagasy students lent me The Dukes of Hazard with Jessica Simpson. In Madagascar, I am surrounded by 1980’s soft rock and also more contemporary music (Jason Mraz, Shakira). And within all of these things our culture is reaching the world.

We say that the United States is an individualistic society. We speak of ourselves as independent autonomous human beings constantly. Indeed, cultural researchers have found the United States to be the most individualistic society in the world.

The question I ask myself is this: If US culture doesn’t even work for us (in the US) why would it work for everyone else? In the United States you don’t have to look hard to find someone who is isolated and in need of help.

We don’t speak of culture in terms of desire—we assume that culture is a fixed state: I have my culture and you have your culture. But it doesn’t work that way. The spread of Christianity and Islam totally transformed many ancient belief systems. In Madagascar, for example, animism and ancestor worship are being replaced by both Protestantism and Catholicism. Culture has always been changing. Culture is not fixed and people make decisions every day that determine their culture. In Madagascar, for example, every time a Malagasy person operates by International Business Standards—they are making the choice to adopt that culture. What did you do this morning? What were your priorities? What did you stop yourself from doing? We are all creating culture all the time. Think of it like nurture and nature. We do as our ancestors (nurture) and we also do as we must or can (nature).

So I ask the question: do we really want to embrace the level of individualism that we presently have in the United States? Do we really prefer a model where each person looks out for only himself or herself? Or would we rather begin respecting our elders? Would we like to go back to the days of being friends with our second and third cousins? Would we rather demand two months off a year from each and every job? Would we rather work for companies who understand that relationships are primary? There was a time in the United States when we were more collectivist than we are now. It is our choice what we embrace.

If we did become more collectivistic it needn’t be identical to the collectivism of other societies. It can be our special blend which leaves plenty of room for sayings like Follow Your Bliss and Find Your Passion—and indeed it will have a heavy dose of our favored political system capitalism. But just as we recognize that capitalism has its bounds and needs regulation—we can also recognize that unbridled individualism is not the be all and end all of human existence.

It might seem like an odd suggestion but I personally think a general shift in the direction of collectivism would do us all a lot of good. I love individualism as well—but I think it’s getting out of hand.

We need to help each other more. We need to watch out for each other more. We need to embrace what the Malagasy people call “one family” meaning that you should all fellow human beings are part of your family—people older than you are your parents or grandparents, people younger than you are your children. It is kind of like love your neighbor but here it’s called it collectivism.

The semester is almost over (well I call it a semester but it isnt

called that here). I have taught four classes since July to juniors

and seniors.I think the biggest frustration I had was that my teaching materials

were all from an American or western perspective. It would have been

nice to have an intercultural communication textbook that was tailored

to my audience. Come to think of it, it would have been nice to have

a textbook. Even better, textbooks for my students.The best part was being able to communicate ideas to my students. The

notion of ethnocentrism was really a hit among the students and I

could see them using it in their conversations and class discussions.

It is the kind of word that can be empowering. We talked a lot about

tourism. My students were pro-tourism because it brings money but on

some level anti-tourism because it harms culture. We talked about

that a lot. My understanding of tourism is totally changed, and I

hope they gained something from our discussions as well. I always

pictured myself as a single tourist--one person traveling. I never

considered what the steady stream of people like me can do to a

community. It isnt bad impact, necessarly; but it can be. My

students live in a tourist destination.One of the most unusual things that happened was when a goat walked

through the classroom. Both doors were open, as they always are for a

breeze, and a goat walked right through the classroom and out the

opposite door. The day that goats in heat were outside the classroom

was less humorous. Goats make some crazy noises. Like screaming

people.It was also awkward at times when students would ask me to define

words that dont normally come up in a classroom--like the f-word.

They were confused because they hear it in films in so many contexts.

It is a word with a million meanings and contexts. I said it was too

difficult to teach and that it wasnt a word you needed in business. I

also said, to give you a sense of this word--I would absolutely never

say it in front of my mother. I think they got it at that point. I

said it was the "worst" word to say in English. But then a few weeks

later someone asked me about the n-word. I had to eat my words, in

the wrong context I think the n-word could be the worst word to say in

English. Personally.One day a student had read an article about Hurricane Katrina. In the

article it said something like, "most americans equate poverty with

lack of effort" meaning that in the US we blame poor people for being

poor. The article talked about how after Hurricane Katrina many

people had to rethink their position on poverty because so many people

were put into bad circumstances which were clearly and obviously

beyond their control. The student asked me what this meant and I

explained that he understood correctly--in the US we often blame the

poor for being poor. He said, "Im sorry, I just dont understand. How

can you blame a poor person for being poor?" It is a good question.

I explained to him how our concept of individualism and our belief in

equality make it difficult for us to view poverty as something one

cannot control. We know that people do not wake up one morning and

say to themselves, "I really want to be poor, that sounds like a lot

of fun. Worrying about paying my rent and feeding my children--bring

it on!" But we also believe that anything is possible if you work

hard enough (whether or not that is true, we believe it). So do we

blame the poor for being poor? Yes, I think we do. But we dont blame

the poor children, just the poor adults. He thought I was insane

trying to explain this. In Madagascar, if you are rich or poor, it is

because of your fate--which is directly linked to your ancestors and

to God.I definitely think that I succeeded in giving the students the

vocabulary to describe their intercultural experiences and to describe

their culture. We learned about all the ways in which cultures differ

(values, communication, power, history, etc). This is really useful

because we often think people are rude or strange when really they are

just obeying the rules of their own culture. It was fun to share with

them stories about my Malagasy culture shock, "Really, are you going

to serve me more rice!" They liked to hear what it was like from the

outside looking in. I also had students talk about Malagasy culture

nonstop. I think this is useful in a lot of ways--partly because

culture can be invisible if you dont think about it. This is less

true in a country where you have such strong influences from tourists

and Western media--but it is still true. I also liked having the

students express their culture because they are afraid it is being

lost due to outside influences. We had a lot of conversations about

that which I think was useful.For the last week of classes I will do a review of what we have

learned, possibly make tortilla chips and salsa for the class (if I am

not too lazy) and screen The Great Debators. I will also be sure to

give a little thank you speech and say something like, "Thanks for

sharing Malagasy culture with me even though I am a vahaza!"

Nationalism by AC GraylingNationalism is our form of incest, is our idolatry, is our insanity.

`Patriotism' is its cult. - Erich Fromm"Nationalism is an evil. It causes wars, its roots lie in xenophobia

and racism, it is a recent phenomenon - an invention of the last few

centuries - which has been of immense service to demagogues and

tyrants but to no one else. Disguised as patriotism and love of one's

country, it trades on the unreason of mass psychology to make a

variety of horrors seem acceptable, even honourable. For example: if

someone said to you, 'I am going to send your son to kill the boy next

door' you would hotly protest. But only let him seduce you with 'Queen

and Country!' 'The Fatherland!' 'My country right or wrong!' and you

would find yourself permitting him to send all our sons to kill not

just the sons of other people, but other people indiscriminately -

which is what bombs and bullets do.Demagogues know what they are about when they preach nationalism.

Hitler said, 'The effectiveness of the truly national leader consists

in preventing his people from dividing their attention, and keeping it

fixed on a common enemy.' And he knew who to appeal to: Goethe had

long since remarked that nationalistic feelings 'are at their

strongest and most violent where there is the lowest degree of

culture'.

Nationalists take certain unexceptionable desires and muddle them with

unacceptable ones. We individually wish to run our own affairs; that

is unexceptionable. Most of us value the culture which shaped our

development and gave us our sense of personal and group identity; that

too is unexceptionable. But the nationalist persuades us that the

existence of other groups and cultures somehow puts these things at

risk, and that the only way to protect them is to see ourselves as

members of a distinct col¬lective, defined by ethnicity, geography, or

sameness of language or religion, and to build a wall around ourselves

to keep out 'foreigners'. It is not enough that the others are other;

we have to see them as a threat - at the very least to 'our way of

life', perhaps to our jobs, even to our daughters.When Europe's overseas colonies sought independence, the only rhetoric

to hand was that of nationalism. It had well served the unifiers of

Italy and Germany in the nineteenth century (which in turn prepared

the way for some of their activities in the twentieth century), and we

see a number of the ex-colonial nations going the same way today.The idea of nationalism turns on that of a 'nation'. The word is

meaningless: all 'nations' are mongrel, a mixture of so many

immigrations and mixings of peoples over time that the idea of

ethnicity is largely comical, except in places where the boast has to

be either that the community there remained so remote and disengaged,

or so conquered, for the greater part of history, that it succeeded in

keeping its gene pool 'pure' (a cynic might say 'inbred' ).Much nonsense is talked about nations as entities: Emerson spoke of

the 'genius' of a nation as something separate from its numerical

citizens; Giraudoux described the 'spirit of a nation' as 'the look in

its eyes'; other such meaningless assertions abound. Nations are

artificial constructs, their boundaries drawn in the blood of past

wars. And one should not confuse culture and nationality: there is no

country on earth which is not home to more than one different but

usually coexisting culture. Cultural heritage is not the same thing as

national identity.The blindness of people who fall for nationalistic demagoguery is

surprising. Those who oppose closer relations in Europe, or who seek

to detach themselves from the larger comities, to which they belong,

do well to examine the lessons of such tragedies as the Balkans

conflicts, or - the same thing writ larger - Europe's bloody history

in the twentieth century."

It is common knowledge in Peace Corps that every volunteer experiences “highs and lows.” Of course, all humans experience this—but in Peace Corps it is somewhat exaggerated possibly because you do not have your usual support system or culture to fall back into. You can be ready to quit Peace Corps in the morning and more committed than ever in the evening. A couple of days ago I experienced this observable fact.

LOW

In my intercultural communication class a few days ago I was teaching the concept of ethnocentrism and ethnorelativism. I described the stages of cultural understanding that many people go through as well as the stages of culture shock.

THE ETHNOCENTRIC STAGES: First, there is denial where the person has no true understanding of cultural differences and simply assumes that their culture is the best and most natural way of life. Then we have the defensive stage. In this stage the person becomes aware that other cultures exist but feels threatened by them. In this stage the person is defensive and antagonistic towards other cultures. They realize that there are other ways of living life but they clearly feel their way is best. Then we have the minimizing stage. In this stage the person, in order to curb their growing confusion and possible fear, reduces cultural differences to being trivial. This person says to herself, “People are all the same, culture isn’t really a huge thing.” All of these above stages can be described as ethnocentric. Meaning, your ethnicity/culture/way is seen as the center—seen as not only different but superior.

THE ETHNORELATIVE STAGES: The next stage is the acceptance stage. In this stage the person begins to recognize culture as deep and meaningful. This person does not change their behavior but has changed their mind—they acknowledge cultural differences and they experience genuine interest in culture. Then we have the Adaptation stage—in this stage the person modifies their behavior to the other culture. They are able to ‘adapt’ to new cultural situations with some ease. And the final stage is Integration. In this stage the person is so deeply affected by the other culture it becomes part of who they are. They integrate aspects of the new culture with their existing culture. Both (or more) cultures become part of who they are. They can move easily between cultures and do not experience feelings of superiority or inferiority. These are all stages of ethno-relativism—seeing your culture in relationship to other cultures and without a perception of superiority or inferiority.

So, I explain all of this to my class. We discuss where Malagasy people tend to fall. It is decided Malagasy people fall all along the spectrum. We discuss tourists. It is decided that generally tourists are in the “honeymoon” stage of culture shock and rarely proceed into deeper stages of ethno-relativism. Then we discuss the foreigners who live here. This was disturbing. Everyone agreed that they see stage one and stage two—but stage three onwards they said was likely, “Less than one percent” of foreigners who live here. I said, “That makes me sad.” Then a student asked me which stage I was. I said I wasn’t sure and that because my Malagasy language skills are so poor I felt that my true integration was hindered. That said, I (naturally) claimed a higher stage—I said, “Acceptance and adaptation, I hope.” Another one of my students laughed and said, “No, I think you are stage two.” The Defensive Stage. In that moment, it appeared unanimous that the class viewed me with the 99% of foreigners who never really integrate or develop a deep understanding of culture.

HIGH

That same night, feeling certain that all of my students perceived me as a misguided and pompous foreigner, I begrudgingly attended a debate session I had organized earlier in the week. In another class, my students really enjoyed our in class debates so we decided to do a public debate. I arrived early and found the debaters (who volunteered to do it for no academic reward) all dressed up with giant smiles on their faces. They were so excited—they were reading over their cases and there was energy in the air. We set up the debate and I gave them a final pep talk. They did an excellent job—they were prepared, clear, organized and intelligent. The people who came enjoyed the debate as well and the head of the school was pleased. He suggested we try to televise the debates at some point. After the debate, one young woman who I have noticed to be particularly motivated and bright asked the head of the department if they could start a debate team. She loved the experience of doing a public debate. You could see it in her eyes—and come to think of it, in class she is always the one who begins her comments with a polite, “I disagree.” The debaters were so engaged it made me feel good that I facilitated the moment.

So there you have it, in one day I was moved almost to tears twice: once because I felt like a colonizing jack ass and once because I felt like I had nurtured the intelligence of four young women. That night, while I was cooking rice and chopping up garlic and tomatoes—I marveled at how emotionally intense a day at work can be.

Sometimes as a teacher you have to recognize that it is time to spice

things up in the classroom. That is why a couple of weeks ago, in my

intercultural communication class, we discussed Music and Culture.

We had already discussed (for days and days) Malagasy and American

cultural values, so it seemed to me time to analyze some music through

that lens.I had the task to choose some songs which I felt were good examples of

American values and culture.I chose three:Frank Sinatra, My WayI played the song and handed out a few copies of the lyrics.

Immediately all of the students recognized how individualistic this

song was. Of course, they liked it (who doesn't?!?!). I explained to

them it is a popular song--indeed that most Americans, am I right or

am I right?, love singing to this song imagining ourselves as livign

our lives MY WAY. We also discussed the theme of competition that is

implied in the song.I Can, NasWith this song I talked about African American Culture. The students

were interested to see that in African American culture there appeared

to be a stronger tie to ancestry (which is huge in Madagascar) and

history. Also, they quickly pointed out the individualism inherent in

this song and the optimism has an American ring to it. I can do

whatever I want if I work hard! This song could not be more clearly

American and African American. We had a great discussion and learned

a lot of new vocabulary works. It was decided right then and there

that African American culture is an interesting blend of collectivism

and individualism.The River, Garth BrooksA few students already knew this song. Country music is popular in

Madagascar. We had a good time discussing the metaphor of the river

and the shore and so on. The students quickly pointed out that this

song is a good example of how Americans typically embrace risk taking.

They also said, though, that there are a lot of Malagasy songs which

embrace the idea of having a dream.Then it was their turn. About 12 students shared a Malagasy song. We

all listened, they sang along a bit, and I tapped my toes like the

dorky teacher that I am. Students explained how the songs related to

Malagasy culture. There were songs about respecting elders, songs

about community bonds, songs about people who leave Madagascar or

abandon the Malagasy way--It was so interesting for me and I learned a lot. Wish y'all

could've been there.

1. Using chalk. At the end (and in the middle) of every class my

hands, shirt and pants are all covered in chalk. And presumably my

rear end. I don't know for sure, but it seems likely that the chalk

I am using here is actually messier and dustier than chalk in the US.

It is as if a light snow covers each and every class.

2. Speaking English to ESL speakers. I am really good at speaking

English as a second language—that is to say I speak easy words if I am

knowing it is better for other person. I can listen to the words

they do and do not know and modify my vocabulary, and my tense,

accordingly. However, in my university classes I have to speak

proper English in an effort to model it. This is difficult for me

because I know that if I used my normal ESL they would understand me

more. But alas, I am supposed to be showing them the 'right' way.

3. Slow internet. Normally, I use the internet to double check facts

when I am preparing lectures—and in some cases to learn missing facts.

The internet here is so slow here that I often play 5-10 FreeCell

games before a page uploads. I play FreeCell between uploads because

if I don't I get irritated like I am stuck in traffic. The internet

here is also a very mysterious thing—sometimes it works and sometimes

it doesn't. Sometimes it is simply a slow connection while other

times I can wait an entire hour only to have absolutely nothing load.

They say that children raised in alcoholic homes develop irrational

belief systems about life because they are trying to create order out

of chaos. It could be said that the alcoholic internet here is making

me equally superstitious. I often attribute the slow connection to

the number of clicks I make, the speed of the wind outside, the time

of day or whether or not I play FreeCell.

4. Electricity blackouts. Not unlike the internet, sometimes the

electricity just doesn't work. In the US this happens too but it is

generally related to a major storm. Here the weather can be perfect

when it happens. There is no clear rhyme or reason—and I think it is

safe to say that an electrical line was not harmed during road or

building construction. So, sometimes I can use my laptop in class

and sometimes I cannot.

5. Copies. In the US I try to conserve copies for abstract and

environmental reasons. Here it is related more to the fact that the

entire department is using one small printer. In addition to this I

recognize that the cost of an ink cartridge in Malagasy Ariary (the

currency) is extremely expensive. So, I print one copy for myself

and then write it all on the board.

6. Defining English Words. Off the top of my head every day I must

define English words. The problem is this: I really like words and

I think about them too much. I am the type of person who will stop

mid-conversation and search for the perfect word. Even a thesaurus

is an interesting book for me—I can look at the related words and have

a whole conversation about how they are and are not similar to the

original word. Nuance. Context. Connotation. Language is truly

an amazing and complex thing! You can imagine the dramatic classroom

pause when asked to define "internalization" "encounter" "mystery"

"bastard" and "endemic". Sometimes it is difficult to explain because

I am searching for the easiest way to understand the word. And

sometimes, like an idiot, the only word I can think of is the word

itself. "Encounter. To encounter. It means….when you encounter

something." Sometimes the word takes me on a new journey. "To

externalize. To make something happen outside of its original

location. Outside. External. Internal, opposite. There are many

contexts for this word. A company can externalize its costs. A

government can externalize its costs. Let's talk about the global

economy and environmental degradation in the developing countries."

Needless to say, it may very well be only in my own mind that I am

teaching—because I am not speaking ESL and they are probably just

nodding politely. Teaching English is also a great way to realize

how much I do and do not know about my language. I cannot explain

grammar in any meaningful way. And oddly, I know the historical

context of quite a few words. And finally, there are a lot of words

that I consider so intrinsically themselves I can barely define them.

7. Teaching Culture. I am in a position of teaching intercultural

communication to a class made up of Malagasy students (and one from

Comoros). I am the only American in the room and they all share the

same overarching culture. Normally when I talk about intercultural

communication I have the secret goal of helping students to be more

open, more respectful and more receptive of other cultures. Put

another way, I like to challenge the belief that my way is the right

way. Put yet another way, I know y'all are American but sometimes

considering the validity of other countries and cultures is just the

right thing to do. So now I am in a country which has been exploited,

ignored and abused by foreign cultures. I still want to foster

'world peace and friendship' (Peace Corps Citation) of course, but the

Malagasy people have been understanding, receptive and respectful.

Indeed, it may even be the case that less receptiveness to outside

forces is in line. I don't really know—but I do know that aside from

refusing slavery (awhile back) the Malagasy people have been fairly

open to foreigners. Hm. This reminds me of Native Americans and

Thanksgiving dinner which was rewarded by small pox blankets and the

trail of tears. The truth is, historically speaking, being nice to

Europeans doesn't seem to get non-Europeans anywhere except for dead,

exploited or assimilated. But, that's all in the past. Right? For

those of you who think I am insane—don't worry. I promote 'world

peace and friendship' in the classroom. I just do it while asking a

lot of questions about Madagascar and Malagasy culture. I feel that

my sincere interest and respect is the only thing I can offer. And I

make it very clear that intercultural communication is about cultures

respecting each other. It is a two way street.

8. Office Supplies. I have one stapler and it is full of staples.

I use it sparingly. I have never seen staples in Madagascar. I know

they must exist but I don't know where you would buy them and the

chances are that as an imported good they are probably very expensive.

I reuse envelopes until they break. There is no Office Max and

there is no free supply closet. It is one of those things where

instead of being a problem—it simply makes me realize how much I

normally waste.

9. Time. Class starts at 7:30am every morning theoretically

speaking. One of my students has the key to the classroom. On

average I would say that the key holder comes around between

7:30-7:40. The rest of the students arrive by 8:00am. So, instead

of finding this irritating I have started showing up for class ten

minutes late. It's like being a student again! And I figure, when

in Rome. The way I see it, if we all keep coming later and later

eventually we won't even have class we can just meet for a few minutes

and exchange pleasantries. Just kidding.

10. Teaching without a class set textbooks. Or even a textbook for

myself. I have manuals which have been pieced together into an actual

course.

I thought I would take a moment to write about some things that I

thought I needed before I joined the Peace Corps. One of the most

common things people said to me when I left was about things. I

couldn't live without this or that. I won't pretend that it is easy

to get used to not having things. It isn't. Many an afternoon I have

done nothing but fantasize about things. Truthfully, I have missed

things as much as I have missed people. But I have had the

opportunity to live without a lot of things—and that has been

priceless.

In the US it is easy to develop strong preferences for things, or ways

of life, and to erase the word want from our vocabulary. I often

believed that I needed things when I simply wanted or preferred them.

Electricity, running water, television, freshly cleaned

clothes-towels-sheets-straight out of the dryer, my own seat on a bus,

a wide variety of foods, certain foods, foods made certain ways,

running shoes, clothes that fit me, clothes that I find cute, hot

water showers or baths, Kleenex, a closet of clothes, more than one of

everything, something new when the old thing works fine, special

toiletries, air conditioning, heating, news, current music or films,

washing machines, microwaves, diet coke, a car, cheese, a decorated

house, a comfortable bed, 7-eleven, TJ Maxx…

Right now I live in a bedroom with a bathroom. I share one set of

dishes with about six people. I have one towel and one sheet. I use

the same soap for everything. I wash and dry my clothes by hand. I

cook all of my meals from scratch. I have about five outfits. All of

my belongings fit into three bags—plus my guitar.

The list above might sound like a list of things I miss but it is

really a list of things I thought I needed—things I have realized were

simply preferences. I need food, shelter and love. Luckily I also

have electricity and running water and a laptop for music and films.

But I don't need it. I didn't have these things in my last house and

I settled into a different routine—a routine where the sun had more

control over my sleep schedule.

I don't mean to suggest that Malagasy people, or Nigerien people,

don't want or need things—that we as Americans can be passive knowing

that things are not the answer. I am not suggesting that we can

relax in knowing that poverty is no big deal. Indeed, a 'thing' like

running water (if it is clean) has health ramifications we rarely

consider in the United States as does consistent electricity. I am

only speaking of the experience I am having—the experience of living

in a rich country and then living in a poor country.

Part of what I am trying to say is that finding myself in a new

context has given me the opportunity to see myself beyond my

superficial preferences. To observe that I really don't need what I

thought I needed. To observe that my deepest needs, beyond food and

shelter, are not met by objects and never will be. Objects may be

fun but they can also be a prison. Sometimes your possessions

possess you—financial and psychologically.

One of the first things I realized in Peace Corps was what I had done

in the past for recreation—because I had to create new forms of

entertainment. I realized that one of the main things I did for

entertainment was shop. I know I am not the only American for whom

this is true. And I didn't even think of myself as a big shopper.

But many Saturday afternoons, it is what I did. I bought things and

it made me a little bit happy for a little while. Here I shop for

food but the 'rush' of buying something is rare here. Occasionally I

feel it—though I can't recall the last time. Perhaps when I find

something outrageous at the frip (where you buy clothes—like

Goodwill).

When I return I will probably be completely indulgent for awhile if I

can contain my reverse culture shock. I will likely just wallow in

all of the things. Buying clothes in the right size, new

clothes—wandering around grocery stores with my jaw on the floor.

Aisle after aisle of foods, things, products—all there ready and

packaged up for me to buy buy buy buy buy. And I shall buy!

But I predict a Saturday afternoon, where I don't want to shop for

fun. I predict an afternoon where I want to feel alive and have

experiences. An afternoon where I want to make soup from scratch

with ingredients that are organic—not because they are from a special

store—but because unnatural foods haven't penetrated the society. I

predict a day when all of the comforts and preferences won't comfort

me at all. On that day I will miss simply feeling alive—a feeling

that having or buying things imitates but cannot truly provide.

http://www.malagasyculturalvoices.blogspot.com/

My students and I have put together a blog in an effort to educate people about Madagascar. Please take the time to read over their writings. The blog is based on writings from two classes.

It began because after a few rounds of assignments I thought it would be fun, and beneficial for other people, if we published their writings. The students agreed that it was a lot more fun to write a paper when you know more than one person will read it. So the blog was born.

I hope you enjoy it and we will try to keep posting things in the coming months as well as during the next academic year which begins in March 2011. There is a four month break from November-February so there will likely be no new posts during that time.

Please share this blog address with anyone you think would be interested!

One of my comments said that I had a reader who was a Malagasy person living in the United States. Simply knowing this impacted me. I have had this in my heart for awhile now. I am so happy to have such a reader--yet feel obligated in a more profound way to tell the full story of what it is like for me to experience Madagascar.

After ten months away from the United States, I am pleased to announce:

I give up. I am receptive. I am open. I get it. I am now here.

The post I wrote about not liking Malagasy food or music sat with me like a meal that was too big in my gut. I felt guilty and beligerent.

And now I can say, finally, that my culture shock is at least in a new state.

I am still an outsider. I will always be outside of Malagasy culture--because I am not a Malagasy person...I cannot change my history, my identity, my nationality, my skin color, the origin or my ancestors...

Yet I finally feel comfortable.

I can tell this because instead of obsessing about how it will be when I return to the United States I find myself curious instead about how I will return.

Truthfully, I can't imagine being in the US. I cannot imagine NOT living in Madagascar.

It is like a fairytale to me now--the US.

It is like a dream I wake up from Saturday morning. Freeways.

I am finally here. In Madagascar.

I make homemade soup. For breakfast. I chop vegetables and create food from scratch for every single meal.

I teach my classes. I teach words and ideas.

I walk around Diego. Last week I got punched in the arm by a crazy woman. She ran up to me, stopped in front of me, and punched my arm much harder than my brothers every did (when they made me name ten candy bars before they would stop). It hurts for two days. And for me it was the most natural thing in the world.

I have accepted it all.

I live in Madagascar. It is familiar. I know where to buy eggs and vegetables. I know where I work. I know.

It is finally second nature. And it is still interesting to me. But it is no longer taxing.

And I still don't like Malagasy cuisine--but I do love the wide range of organic vegetables I cook with every day. And I do like Malagasy music. I am just jealous of how everyone else knows how to dance and I don't. It is like being in Jr High all over again--watching the other kids dance and not knowing how.

I am sorry I said I don't like the food.

In the US we eat for pleasure. In Madagascar, you eat for life. Food is different. True Malagasy food fills up my stomach and it is only the American in me that wants more than that.

In the US I will miss the pace.

I will miss how things start when the start NOT when they SHOULD start.

I will miss how I can just talk to people and relax and now that if I am "late" for my next meeting it is OK because time is a flexible thing--

I will miss everything. I will miss it all for the rest of my life.

The colors. The way homes are built. The bugs in my shower. The rush of joy when a faucet produces water. The feeling of euphoria when a light switch works. The comfort of a foam matress. The special feeling of sleeping inside of a mosquito net--a little fortress for nighttime. I will miss the smiles. I will miss the air. I will miss the smells. I will miss the clothes. I will miss the children. I will miss how it feels to be grateful. I will miss how it feels to be useful.

People I meet in Madagascar often ask me to tell people in the US about Madascar. They ask, "Do people in the US really think that only animals live here? Do they really only know about Lemurs?" They ask, "Do they only know the Disney Movie?" They ask, "Tell people about us. Tell people we are here."

And I say yes.

People are here. A culture is here. A culture so vast that the truth is, from an American perspective, it is hard to return to my origin. People live here and in addition to caring about endemism they also carry pride about their traditions and culture.

I am changed not only by my witnessing of poverty--but by my witnessing of another way of life. A totally acceptable way of life. Imagine that--another way of living life. A totally different framework for understanding the universe, relationships and life that is totally acceptable.

That is yet another gift I have received. The ability to grasp the fact that there are many ways to live life--all of which are acceptable, meaningful and worthwhile.

You cannot measure quality of life by wealth.

To assume that "third world" countries are less sophistocated culturally and intellectually is perhaps the biggest mistake of the "1st world". Paved roads are no indication of cultural or intellectual sophistication.

My opinion: we ( Americans ) need to listen more to people and less to dollars. Developed countries are not better. Undeveloped countries are not worse. It was a technology race of the past. Nothing more. Europeans could have just has easily lost the race. It just happens that they didn't. And it just happens that my ancestors were European.

Respecting culture is respecting the way in which other human beings understand the world. It is informative and invaluable. There is so much to learn. There is so much to learn if we can listen.

Breakthrough.

It is windy season apparently so all day and night you can hear the wind. It is loud and strong enough to sound like waves. At first I thought it was neat. Now, after three days, I think it is foreboding. It makes me a little bit nervous in a way I can't quite describe. From my balcony I can see the bay. It is the second largest bay in the world. My dorm room is very nice.....I have a freezer, a shower and a flushing toilet. I also have five dogs out back to want my left overs (when I give it to them, though, I am just a bit nervous that they will eat ME once they get their little appetite going)...and they have so many injuries I want to give them the medicine from my Peace Corps med kit. Sometimes it is easier to have empathy for dogs than people. That probably sounds ridiculous--but in truth I have always been this way not just in Madagascar. And that's easier, not more important.

Diego is a very nice city. The houses are colorful as they are made out of pieces of tin whose colors span the rainbow. People wear large pieces of cloth as coverings (think sarong). There are just enough foreigners, or tourists, that so far people don't stare at me like I have an ear coming out of my forehead. So I dig that.

The university is not what I was expecting. I guess it looks like an university. A lot of the buildings are abandoned and all are in some form of disrepair. I don't want to give a rude description of it all--but just know that universities and community colleges in the US are 1,000 times nicer than this. So be grateful I guess. Or just enjoy the cafeteria. Up to you. I guess I figured the universities here would be nicer--since they are the top of the educational system. So it is yet another wake up call for me.

I have a feeling I will be even more annoying for the rest of my life in the sense of recognizing how nice things are in the US. I have told my niece before I even joined Peace Corps that most kids, especially girls, don't get the education she is getting. She of course did not roll her eyes at me and as usual either agreed with me or humored me. It's a bit like, "eat your food, children are starving" but I can't help it. When you know how lucky you are it's hard not to hold that in your awareness. When I worked at a high school in New Mexico for a year I was amazed at how irritated students were with school. How annoying, they say, I have to learn about biology. How stupid, they say, I have to watch a documentary. But secretly they enjoyed it because how good does it feel to know you are intelligent and to enjoy your mind. It is one of the best feelings in the world. I want everyone to feel it.

Today was my first day of classes and due to a scheduling mix up no one came. Okay. I will be teaching upper division Inter-cultural Communication as well as upper division Integrated Skills (Business English for Eco-tourism). Both of these courses are taught in English and are part of the degree in "Anglo American Studies." Unlike the system in the US, it is OK for me to just jump in mid semester as a guest teacher. I will also be advising graduate students on their thesis projects. I don't think there are graduate students at this university but that is what they are called. Maybe here a graduate student is a student who is about to graduate. Who knows. Teaching inter-cultural communication to a room full of young Malagasy people will be much different than teaching the same course in the US. It will take me a bit to figure out what it is that I want to teach them or share with them. I don't know what they need or want. When you are born and raised on an island with a history of colonization and tourism...oh, the familiar feeling of having no idea what to do.

Within 24 hours of joining Peace Corps I knew I was having an experience that would be difficult to articulate to people who have not had a similar experience.

It's like becoming strangers with people you know. Suddenly I have to approach my relationships as intercultural. Like now I am Malagasy. And you all are American.

Sometimes when I am on facebook and I see the status updates I don't understand them anymore. The dailiness in the United States is so far away. Sometimes it is a bizarre comparison. Suzy is shopping for shoes! Monica is digging eggs out of her foot!

When I was in Niger people writing or calling me expressed this concern--something like, "I feel like I can't complain about anything in my life ever because you are in Niger." I would reassure them. "No, no, please just talk normally." But we both knew that hearing about a broken washing machine when I was living in the poorest country in the world felt odd.

And then there are the times when outsiders show compassion and I don't. I have been here long enough to be not jaded but worn in. An example of this would be the way I react to begging children. At first, I was like, "Oh, I'm so sorry, Oh, how sad, Oh wow, oh she's holding a baby and she is only six years old, oh, oh..." Now I am firm with them and sometimes rude (I do my best Mom NO voice). Because they are pick pockets. Because if I give to one I will have a crowd in minutes. Because I have a Peace Corps salary which does not allow for handing out money. So I seem heartless. Damn begging children, what a hassle.

Malagasy culture is really complex. Race relations between the French (and those of us who look French, like me) and the Malagasy are tense. I think race relations in the United States are this tense in a lot of places--but being white I didn't EXPERIENCE it I just thought about it. Here I experience it. The intensity of someone disliking you at first glance and saying rude things to you is very draining. It is a stressor that cannot be underestimated. I get now articles I read about how if people face a lot of discrimination it weakens their immune systems. But, then for me, being white, I also get a flip side treatment of getting extra attention and courtesy by others. All I really want is to blend in. But that will never happen. In Madagascar, I am flourescent white even in my sleep. I practically glow with white-ness. Even at night, you can tell I am white. It's is just never going away. It's hard to talk about things like this.

On the phone awhile ago, my mom asked me what my "favorite" part about Madagascar was so far. I ran out of credit (story of my life) and didn't get a chance to answer which was good because I didn't have an answer. I don't have a "favorite" part of Madagascar in the sense my mom was asking. Like, I love Malagasy cuisine (nope) or I love Malagasy music (so so) or ....

Madagascar is really poor. The race relations are intense. The political situation at a stand still and government infastructure is tiny. I am living in cities. Perhaps a rural experience would lend itself to that village culture experience we all imagine.

When I go outside my feet become covered in mud and I have to wash them off with cold water. That's my favorite part Mom. When I walk past any group of men they stare at me like they want to have sex with me. That's my second favorite part Mom. When I buy anything at a new vendor a crowd gathers and laughs at me because I am speaking Malagasy. Like I said, flourescent white.

I think cultural adjustment probably takes about 50 years. They make it sounds like after a couple months you will be used to it all. A few days ago when I woke up I had no idea where I was. Not even which continent I was on. On some really deep level I think my soul is like: WHERE ARE YOU?

I do have a favorite part. I will never be the same. I liked myself before. What I mean is that I am changed. I can't explain it. I'll try.

Before I joined Peace Corps I had something called low level Imaginary PTSD about Poverty. I imagined poverty and it traumatized me. I would think about it. When I was shopping I would wonder where things were made and what lives people led who made the things.

Now I have real PTSD about Poverty. For the rest of my life I will be fascinated by freeway systems, trash day, sinks, toilets, stores, new things, cars, bus systems, everything. And I will know the difference. Not as an intellectual aside, like okay--I know lots of people in the world are poor but I choose to only think about it when those damn commercials come on--but as a way of being. I can't go back.

It might sound sadistic but that's my favorite part about Madagascar. So far.

I lived in Moramanga for six months. Moramanga is a sprawling, muddy, crowded little Malagasy city that I came to love over the course of six months. It is also home to some of my favorite people inside and outside of Peace Corps. I met a lot of people from the giant mining complex which operates around Moramanga--Canadians, Europeans, Arabs, Australians.......Indeed, a fellow volunteer joked that I knew more Arabic than Malagasy. Not true! Sho fe? Ma fishy. That's all I got.

I was able to say goodbye to the community and to my surprise about ten people wanted a photo with me--in the middle of the fishery. I remain a novelty. Then people started asking for gifts. I politely refused. I did, however, give my neighber a very nice head lamp because he has been admiring it for months and I will have electricity now. And a fridge apparently. I think I may have just moved into Fancy Corps.

I was also able to enjoy one last night at my favorite Karaoke place where I sang my two standards: Depeche Mode, Somebody and Eagles, Desperado. I know they sound like pathetic songs to sing as a single woman roaming around Madagascar--but really they are just in my range. And I got to say goodbye to the karaoke gang. Karaoke in Madagascar is not like karaoke in the United States. People are serious. They clap for each other. It's like five minutes of fame getting up there. It's fun. Plus, I figure even if they don't like my voice everyone likes to hear how to pronounce songs in English. True story.

I left town on a posy posy (rickshaw) with all my bags and myself. It was a heavy load for the cyclist. I paid him two dollars. The usual fare is one dollar. It was misty, rainy and muddy. I was not sad to leave but I was not sad to have been there either. It was just time for somethin' else. It was sad to leave the people I have met knowing most of them I will never see again (excepting Peace Corps Volunteers).

I didn't get to say goodbye to the girl I have written about. She's so outgoing, perhaps she will make friends with the next volunteer.

I have talked to several Peace Corps staff and if everything works out (which it appears to have already) I will be moving to the Northern tip of Madagascar and working with the university there teaching English. I expressed to them that I have virtually no business skills but at the same time have years of teaching experience. In short, it just makes sense. This means I will have a new phone number and address so hold off on mailing and calling for now.

I am very excited about not being unemployed and I am very happy with Peace Corps for hearing me out when I said, "Seriously, I do nothing and it's not working for me." I think may have also said something like, "I am at my threshold...."

Let this be a lesson to us all (even if I don't like my move) that sometimes ya just gotta look somebody in the eyeballs so they can see that you are going mad and they will help you. Ah humanity.

I am unemployed in Madagascar. It has taken me this long to truly realize it. I know in my early days of Peace Corps I was at peace with the idea of being dropped off in a village and simply making nice for two years occasionally doing something that could loosely be considered as humanitarian work. But after nine months in Peace Corps (which in Peace Corps time is seven years) philosophy is meeting practice. I think this concept of Peace Corps is actually really interesting and potentially effective. But I can't wake up in the morning for a concept these days. I need something to do. Izao.

I know I have written about some past projects but they have all fallen through completely.

So this week while I am at the Peace Corps guest house (also known as the United States by Peace Corps Volunteers) I am going to draft up some proposals to either change locations or sectors--whatever it takes to go from being unemployed to being employed. I have some ideas but I won't bore you with them here unless they materialize.

Wish me luck.

http://compassionatewitness.blogspot.com/2010/02/young-girl.html

As some of you may recall in an older blog, I wrote about a girl I

met in town. Since I wrote that post I have seen her many times.

She always shakes my hand and follows me around for awhile.

Sometimes I even follow her around for awhile while she completes her

errands. I found out she is 13 years old and still going to school.

I have met her father who works at a small used clothing stand on a

corner and have seen her working at her mothers vegetable stand. In

short, we are friends.

Today I saw her again and she gave me a drawing. It is written

mostly in French and I have no idea what it says...it may even be an

invitation to something...but I thought it was very sweet and I

especially liked how she wrote my name, Monissica. I should change

my name.

It is a small gesture, for sure, but I have to say the little drawing

was exactly the thing I needed. I can officially say at least one

person in Madagascar things I am neat. Hopefully as my language

skills grow I can have more meaningful conversations with her and

maybe even start encouraging her about her school work. As it stands I

simply ask her what she learned about on any given day and I get a one

word answer.

One day we walked around all the used clothing stands together and

made fun of the ugly clothes like teenagers in the mall.

This girl is pretty special. In the entire city she is the only young

person to approach me and introduce herself. I would think that might

be kind of scary--myself being an old white lady and all.

Another way to look at this is that it is a way to love my niece

Ashley, who is a similar age, from across the world. Because in my

mind every teenage girl needs love and guidance from older women no

matter who she is or where she lives. Maybe I will show her pictures

of Ashley and talk about all the great things Ashley is doing to

inspire her. Spread some international teenage girl power while I am

at it.

Peace Corps provides two week training after your first three months

at your site. The following things happened during my stay: I visited my host sister (from my initial Peace Corps training).

Our encounter consisted of me talking to her in Malagasy and her

repeating several times, "You can speak Malagasy now," with her jaw on

the floor. I really wanted to give her a giant Aunt Monica hug but

hugging is not part of Malagasy culture.Although all of my meals were provided, and many of them were

delicious, there were days on end where there wasn't quite enough

food—particularly because I am vegetarian. One day I ate corn and

rice with ketchup. I call this the Peace Corps diet. My stomach was

growling for much of the training and I am sure that I lost 5-10

pounds in the two week training. It is amazing how hungry you are

when you only eat rice and vegetables for two weeks. A side note to

this is the fact that I don't like rice which means that I don't like

Malagasy food. All Malagasy meals consist of large quantities of rice

and small quantities of loaka. Loaka is the side dish to the rice.

Essentially you eat 2-5 cups of cooked rice and about a half a cup of

beans or some other vegetable. Not liking rice in Madagascar could be

compared to not liking meat in the Midwest, not liking pasta in Italy

or not liking chile in New Mexico. It is a hardship and involves a

lot of hunger when I am not in charge of my own meals. On this note,

I watched Food, Inc. which is about the food industry in the United

States and how it is in urgent need of reform. The film is intended

to make you disgusted by foods in the US—but instead I gazed at the

screen awestruck by the footage of grocery stores and fast food.

Imagine! Isles of food! Imagine!I attended a Q & A session with people living with AIDS and commercial

sex workers (heterosexual women and gay men). It was incredibly

interesting. I have never had the chance to talk with sex workers

before. At one point a volunteer asked the women why they decided to

go into this work. The translator didn't even translate the question

to the women, she just said back to us, "It isn't a choice. It is

what happens when there are no other choices." All of the women have

children and one of them was married. It was neat to experience the

feeling of my own judgment lift as the session went on. When I first

walked into the room I was looking at their faces, their

clothes—seeing them as alien to me in some way—a novelty and something

entirely foreign. By the end of the session, as their individual

stories and personalities came through, it was simply a group of human

beings. The male sex workers stories differed from the women. It

seemed to me that they were simply gay and could not really be gay in

a more normal way. Both the men seemed fairly comfortable with their

occupation and seemed to consider it a way to live their lives in a

culture that had no other place for them. One of them said that

some of their clients didn't pay because it was for love. The other

man was a hairdresser and has clients by appointment only on the side.

He said, "I am very lucky in my life right now." I also learned

that the health educators, when they do condom demonstrations,

sometimes demonstrate for groups how you put on a condom with your

mouth because a lot of men don't want to wear condoms and the mouth

method puts them at ease, shall we say. The sex workers do this in

the dark and the men never even realize the condom is on.I attended a session about the ethics of development in poor

countries. We all shared our concerns and fears about helping other

countries. Is it ethical to go into another country and tell them how

to live their lives? As a business volunteer, to promote the values

of Western capitalism and demote the values of informal economy and

barter systems? Then again, is it ethical to pretend that poverty

doesn't exist? To patronize cultures by saying, "It's so quaint!" To

ignore the fact that on this world of ours some people have mountains

of opportunities while others are lucky to reach their fifth birthday?

Sitting in the session, I was reminded how easy it is for me to think

so hard about something that I am sucked into an intellectual vortex

of inaction. Luckily, my APCD (essentially by boss) shared her

perspective. She has worked for Peace Corps for over ten years and is

Malagasy. She essentially gave a testimonial that Peace Corps works

and is meaningful. Her name is Lucy is she reminds me a lot of my

mom—which is to say she is an amazing, intelligent and strong woman.

Her opinion means a lot to me and I left the session feeling hope in

a way that I haven't for some time.I learned that I miss my mom. I was telling my APCD about how I

thought her and my mom would be best friends if they ever met because

they remind me so much of each other. She asked me what my mom's

name is and when I said it, "Dianne," I felt like crying. Just

because I miss my mom. I think that makes me pretty lucky to have a

mom that you miss even when you are 31 years old.I learned how exportation works in Madagascar. In short, it is a

complex process that includes many things including bribing police.

On this note, I realized (again) that I seriously have no expertise

whatsoever with anything related to business. I find the

big-picture-theoretical-intellectual-philosophical-global-ethical-

economic concepts interesting but when it really comes down to the

application of it my brain doesn't work. It is sort of like how I

am passionate about why organic foods and products are important, yet

have no desire to weave mittens or grow turnips. What to do with

this self knowledge besides suck it up I cannot say.I learned that I don't like speaking Malagasy in front of other volunteers.I solidified my place in Madagascar Peace Corps mythology by sharing

the fact that one day I read a 600 page book (it was John Irving's A

Widow for One Year). In Peace Corps, there are legends and I am

hoping that in a few years it will turn into, "A few years ago, there

was a volunteer who read 1,200 pages in one hour." One such legend I

have heard is that a few years ago a volunteer read 500 books in her

first year. I have thought about this a lot, since right now I am

basically doing a self-directed survey of literature extensive enough

to earn a graduate degree, and have decided that this woman could not

in fact have read 500 books in one year. I think the accurate number

is probably closer to 300. My projection for myself is 100-150 per

year of Peace Corps.

I am working with a wonderful nonprofit here Madagascar, ACCE, that is

in need of outside funding. Although this organization has been

functioning very well for over ten years, because of the political

situation here things are becoming more difficult. Many

international funding organizations (particularly those affiliated

with governments who expect countries to have presidents, the US for

example) have or are pulling out of Madagascar.

This means that environmental issues are particularly at risk because

international companies tend to really like lawlessness. So the aid

leaves, and the companies stay (mines, logging). It is an important

time to help Madagascar.

The organization I am working for has two primary protected areas

under its scope. These areas are ONLY protected because of our

organization. They include the flying fox, several species of lemurs

and several species of frogs. You may know that Madagascar is

considered an amazing biological jewel because of its near 100 percent

rates of endemism (meaning animals found here tend to only be found

here). ACCE trains Malagasy people as researchers so it is the

community people who watch over the protected areas and do scientific

research. Beyond the protected areas, ACCE is all about helping the

communities--indeed the ultimate driving force is that we humans need

a safe ecosystem to live healthy lives. To this end, school building

and income generating activities have been part of the ACCE mission.

This Fall, ACCE is hoping to host an international bat festival to

foster scientific dialogue and to teach communities about the

ecological role that bats play in Madagascar. In addition to this,

we are in the process of developing a small and environmentally

friendly community based ecotourism loop near the region where I am

living. This way the Malagasy people who are so diligently protecting

the forests under the advisement of ACCE can begin to earn much needed

income. We have many more projects in the works; but those two give

you a sense of the kinds of work ACCE does in addition to monitoring

the protected areas.

If you would like to help me research potential donors, or know of a

private individual who would consider donating to this cause, contact

me at monicayancey@gmail.com. Any support or advisement is useful to

me. I should also mention that you would be surprise how little money

it takes to run an entire organization here what with exchange rates

being what they are.

Below; I have pasted a little more information about the organization.

ACCE Partners- Past and PresentUniversity of Aberdeen

Peace Corps

Lubee Bat Conservancy

Embassy of Great Britain

Conservation International

Fauna Flora International

Seacology

Darwin Initiative

USAID

ACCE ActivitiesScientific Research and Conservation Site Management

ACCE has conducted studies and research about P. Rufus with specialist

groups (Universities, biologists, NGOs) to learn about the species.

ACCE completed research includes: studied the ecological role of P.

Rufus, travel and distance of P. Rufus through radio tracking,

determined diet of P. Rufus through feces collection and analysis by

planting in a pepiniere.

Managing Conversation Sites

The integration of conservation sites into the system of protected

areas is key. The habitat of P. Rufus and many amphibian species are

generally located outside of protected areas. Consequently, the

situation is not favorable for conservation of the species. To

enforce protective actions, the focal sites of conservation which

should be included in the system-protected areas are the humid forest

of Ambohidray, the forest of Besariaka in the NAP CAZ and the roost of

P. Rufus in Ambakoana and Analabe.

Monitoring

To know the development and dynamic of the population of P. Rufus, the

daily counting of individual P. Rufus was adopted. The counting takes

place in each of the roosts of P. Rufus in Amboasary Gara and

Antaniditra. This activity permits the evaluation of our conservation

of the species and with that we can change our conservation strategies

if needed.

Education and Public Awareness

Developing long term conservation, education and public awareness is

crucial especially for the edible species like P. Rufus and some

species of amphibians. The importance and significance of the

species' environmental impact are sometimes unknown by the population

which makes conservation difficult. The goal of education and public

awareness is to offer the population a new vision for the bats which

allows the communities to adopt a favorable attitude about the

species. To this end, ACCE has brought education and public awareness

about the importance of the ecological role that P. Rufus plays at two

communities: Amboasary Gara and Antaniditra. Primary schools have

been targeted in the Alaotra Mangoro region with teacher trainings

about ecological roles of three Megachiropterian bats and 28

Microchiropterian bats. Two picture competitions for schools, one of

which required students to create a story board drawing related to

bats and conservation, have been facilitated. Our activities are done

through partnerships with local authorities and a biologist from the

University of Alberdeen.

Conservation

Conserving biodiversity has massive implications for local

communities. ACCE's strategy is to collaborate closely with local

communities though raising public awareness. The concept is that if

the population participates with the conservation activities they can

become responsible for and fully engage with environmental protection.

To achieve this goal, ACCE has established a DINA (Traditional Local

Law) regarding bat conservation in seven rural communities in the

district of Moramanga: Amboasary Gara, Antaniditra, Mangarivotra

(ex-Beparasy), Morarano Gara, Fierenana, Andaingo, and Belavabary and

created management committees for the seven communities. The community

created and still maintains a pare-feux (a fire stopping trench around

the conservation site) for the conversation site of P. Rufus, which

has already proven effective in keeping a forest fire from the roost.

Community Aid

Preserving biodiversity creates certain restrictions for communities

regarding their use of the natural environment. Therefore, it is

necessary and important to find alternative activities for the

communities. Establishing alternative activities ensures the

integrity of the biodiversity and provides communities with activities

that can increase their quality of life without depending on the

environment in harmful ways. Alternative activities must meet the

needs of the community and as such, the community can embrace the need

for environmental conservation. ACCE activities include

reforestation of the Fokotany of Ambohidava, Ambohimiarina and

Amboasary. ACCE provided 2,500 young plants for the communities of

Mahatsara in the commune of Antaniditra, Marotsipohy, Maroharona and

Amboasary. ACCE has also worked with community members to create a

tree farm in Analasoa in the commune of Amboasary. Knowledge has been

transferred regarding bee keeping, fish farming and raising chickens

in Mahatsara in the commune of Antaniditra, Marotsipohy, Anosibe,

Antanifotsy, and Analasoa in the commune of Amboasary.

IT IS HUGE AND NICE I DONT SUPPOSE I WILL RECEIVE ANY SYMPQTHY FROM HERE ON OUT.

Today I leave for the coast for a few days. I thought spending my

birthday on the Indian Ocean sounded like a great idea.

1. No Electricity. This means candles at night and a very early

bedtime. Otherwise it means I can never use my laptop and hoard care

package batteries. When I use my battery powered speakers I think to

myself, "Do I really want to listen to music right now, will I really

appreciate it?" Gone are the days of brainless background tunes.2. No Running Water. This means I use the bathroom, the latrine in

my neighbors yard, only when I really need to. It also means that I

pull all of my water from a well (also in my neighbors backyard). The

final implication is the "bucket shower" that I am still not really

used to. I am getting good at it but the shower itself is dirty since

the geese and chickens like to hang out in there when it is not in

use. It is a small outdoor wooden room, like a latrine only without

the hole. I will be honest and say I dont bathe every day.3. No Privacy. Privacy does not exist here. This is probably the

hardest thing to cope with. People knock on my door all day only

stopping at night time. Sometimes I dont answer and I think that may

be even more stressful than the unexpected guest since not answering

may make me seem like a total weirdo.4. The Kids. In front on my house is a playground of children who

never tire of trying to gain my attention. They peer in my windows

and talk to me at every possible chance. It is more exhausting than

cute. But sometimes, I think they are cute. They are just curious,

I tell myself. And why wouldnt they be? No one like me has ever

lived in their neighborhood.5. Food. Although lots of veggies and fruits are available here, I

find myself missing restaurants and foods from the US. Namely

fountain drinks and Mexican food.6. Language. Walking around town with the language skills of a

three year old is quite an adjustment let me assure you.7. Free Time. I wake up in the morning and think, "What on earth am

I going to do today?" Generally speaking, it is not comforting to

have an open schedule. I would be busier if I could communicate more,

so I guess over time that will happen. For now I answer, "Fry some

potatoes and read another book."8. Parasy. A couple of days ago I had a swollen blister like thing

under my big toe nail. This is called parasy. It is a bug that lays

eggs in your skin. So, as advised by the doctor, I opened it up and

got the eggs out. It was exactly like a pimple, only in my heart I

knew some little critter had lain eggs and that it was eggs I was

peering at. Gross. And common here, it will happen again.9. Biking. I am slowly starting to use my peace corps issued bike

and it is quite a work out.10. Celebrity. I have been on TV three times since I got here.

People recognize me all the time. People know my name. When I walk

down the street I am like a politician on the campaign trail waving

and smiling. And adolescent dreams that remained in my soul about

wanting to be famous or known have been completely wiped out. I am

just not polite enough.

For the first time since I got here, I forgot I was here. I had a dream I lived in Santa Fe with my mom and I was going to buy a diet coke. When I woke up it took me several minutes to realize I was in Madagascar. It was a bizarre few minutes as a series of clues came to me while I gazed around my house. My water filter, my chamber pot, and then with a deep sadness I realized there was no diet coke.

Just when I was sure I would spend the next two years reading (not exactly a death sentence but not really why I joined Peace Corps) I got news today that I can help with an English Club at the local high school. I will help teach English with the subject matter of the Environment. I dont know what they have in mind but to me when you are speaking of the environment you can also speak about health, the world, politics (in a neutral Peace Corps way of course), animals, business, pollution. Basically our environmental welfare as a planet encompasses any interesting topic I can think of, so I am hoping the class can not only learn English but can also be a nice seminar about the world. I should not get my hopes up too high, but I need something to believe in. After all, my primary focus right now would be the fictional characters in Marge Piercys "Gone to Soldiers" and as wildly entertaining as that book is I need some real life stimulation. Plus, teenagers like me....at least in the US they do. Here they might just agree with their parents that I am weird and require far too much privacy (which incidentally is a concept competely absent in Malagasy culture).

Some of you may be wondering if I have worked yet since all I write

about are tortillas and my inner thoughts. Well, the short answer to

that is NO but the long answer is KIND OF.NOIt is hard, for me at least, to do any substantial work when I cant

speak Malagasy well enough to communicate complex ideas. When I meet

people I usually tell them that I am not doing projects yet because I

need to work on language first. The good part about how long it

takes to learn a language is that it forces me to learn the culture as

well...before I try to do projects. This way when I try to do

something it will be culturally appropriate. So, if I dont work

then what do I do? I read a lot, I cook a lot, I talk to people a

lot, I walk a lot and I stare at my ceiling a lot. As a matter of

fact, I think this is the phase of Peace Corps well known among

volunteers where you basically do nothing and face your own ability to

make peace with that. I am at peace with it in waves and totally

confused about my uselessness in waves.KIND OFThere are a few small things that I have done. I have translated some

documents for the nonprofit I am affiliated with. I have traveled the

region to see and learn about the places they are protecting. I am

in the process of starting an English class for the people in my town

who all ask me to teach them English. I am teaching a young man how

to use the Internet. Since the Peace Corps is also about

intercultural exchange, when I tell people about the US I am

technically working. Similarly, when I learn about Madagascar I am

technically working. In this sense, I am always working. Today, for

example, I explained that in the US the internet is really fast. And

almost everyday when I try a new fruit or vegetable, I explain that in

the United States we dont have this or that. Everyone likes it when

I try things for the first time, especially (for some reason) when I

dont like it. There are many projects people want me to start, just

this morning a man came to my house asking for help raising money to

buy a generator for his hotel (which currently does not have

electricity). I dont have the language or technical skills yet to

facilitate things like this, so hopefully as my language improves so

will my ability to be useful.

You all thought you could just read the blogs and sit back and relax right? No!!!!

I am supposed to make a website for a great nonprofit organization I am working with.

If I was in the US it would already be done. However, the internet connection here being what it is (and my budding yet ineffective language skills being what they are) I am at a stand still.

Your job, should you choose to accept it is to find out what the deal is with paypal in Madagascar, from what I can tell I have to have a bank account in US or Australia which is not happening. The paypal will be for the donations button. And more important if you choose to accept it, I need someone to call Brinkster.com and find out if their site will work for us in Madagascar and how we contact them (they dont respond to my emails...so perhaps a direct email to make my job here a thousand times easier) and if they have a feature to switch between languages. And how much it is with the nonprofit discount. Just to get the ball rolling. If they would respond to my emails that would solve everything actually.

I know, right; just a few phone calls and some minor research.....but no, I am afraid it isnt so easy here. If you can help simply reply to this blog what you can do and then email me directly.*

And if your name is Stephen, you are absolutely not allowed to help.

Thanks people!!!

Whenever I hear Dead Prez, "I'm a African," I think of Sani. I wish

there was a way I could help him do what he wants to do. I don't

think he can do it without help. It isn't in his power.He was my Hausa teacher in Niger. He spent about 12 extra hours

teaching me, one on one, Hausa by lamp light in an outdoor compound a

few feet from where he slept each night, with all the other teachers,

outside under the Nigerien sky.

I burned him a CD when we parted. He said he liked country music. I

told him I didn't really have country music but that I had some

political rap that he might like. He liked it.Sani applied and was accepted into Kansas State. The application

process, from a place like Niger—must've been something quite indeed.

With internet connections so slow that it takes upwards of an hour to

upload a single photo—imagine a college application, including the

international and expensive exams. He was accepted—but he could not

afford to pay.I wanted to promise him, as I learned his story, that I would help him

get to the United States for college. I almost did. But I didn't

want to lie, and I wasn't sure I could do something like that with the

internet connection here being what it is. So I just nodded my head

and listened to his story.