Hi everyone,
(and by everyone I mean the 3 people who are reading this...)
I've decided to move the blog to a new provider - I like the interface (is that really even the right tech word?) better.
The new address is:
http://azafady.wordpress.com, so please change your bookmarks.
It transferred all of the posts from the blogspot address, so all will be in one place.
Cheers,
Callista
02 September 2008
hmmm
So, I accidently had tongue for lunch today.
I went to Chez Niani, a café down the street that I often go to for lunch. Malagasy food consists of a) vary (rice), and b) laoka (stuff that goes with rice - i.e. veggies or meat, usually not sauce). Chez Niani has Malagsy food as well as a vazaha menu (chicken, meat, eggs, fries etc). I wanted Malagasy food, so I asked what the laokas of the day were. My waitress spoke super quietly, so I heard mostly unintelligible mumbling, possibly mostly in Malagasy, and then petit pois (peas) jumped out. I said I'd have the petit pois thing with rice. I've had rice dishes there before, and often just ask for whatever doesn't have meat (usually lima beans and tomatoes - quite good actually). Today I figured that I wouldn't mind some meat, so even though I didn't hear her say 'langue' as she was describing the specials, I figured that I would wind up with peas and some sort of meat with my rice.
Indeed, a big bowl of rice and a plate full of peas with some slices of meat on top arrived. I cut up the meat a little and started putting the meat and peas over my rice. The meat was a little like the beef that goes in beef stew only quite a bit softer. I didn't mind it. I'm still getting used to meat (chicken is easier, but there's not much good chicken here - most of the chickens are running around eating garbage, so they're pretty thin), so I didn't exactly love it, but it was ok. When I went back to the plate to cut up a little more meat to put into the mix, I noticed one of the pieces. It had what really really looked like tastebuds on the skin on one side. After closer examination, I decided that it was indeed tongue. I ate a little more of it (just not the tastebuds part), and most of the peas. When I went up to pay, the woman repeated what was on my bill to make sure it was mine, and she said, "un café, du riz, et de la langue et des petits pois". Yup, it was tongue. Good news: the tongue meal plus a packet of vanilla wafer like cookies cost about 2 dollars and 10 cents.
I went to Chez Niani, a café down the street that I often go to for lunch. Malagasy food consists of a) vary (rice), and b) laoka (stuff that goes with rice - i.e. veggies or meat, usually not sauce). Chez Niani has Malagsy food as well as a vazaha menu (chicken, meat, eggs, fries etc). I wanted Malagasy food, so I asked what the laokas of the day were. My waitress spoke super quietly, so I heard mostly unintelligible mumbling, possibly mostly in Malagasy, and then petit pois (peas) jumped out. I said I'd have the petit pois thing with rice. I've had rice dishes there before, and often just ask for whatever doesn't have meat (usually lima beans and tomatoes - quite good actually). Today I figured that I wouldn't mind some meat, so even though I didn't hear her say 'langue' as she was describing the specials, I figured that I would wind up with peas and some sort of meat with my rice.
Indeed, a big bowl of rice and a plate full of peas with some slices of meat on top arrived. I cut up the meat a little and started putting the meat and peas over my rice. The meat was a little like the beef that goes in beef stew only quite a bit softer. I didn't mind it. I'm still getting used to meat (chicken is easier, but there's not much good chicken here - most of the chickens are running around eating garbage, so they're pretty thin), so I didn't exactly love it, but it was ok. When I went back to the plate to cut up a little more meat to put into the mix, I noticed one of the pieces. It had what really really looked like tastebuds on the skin on one side. After closer examination, I decided that it was indeed tongue. I ate a little more of it (just not the tastebuds part), and most of the peas. When I went up to pay, the woman repeated what was on my bill to make sure it was mine, and she said, "un café, du riz, et de la langue et des petits pois". Yup, it was tongue. Good news: the tongue meal plus a packet of vanilla wafer like cookies cost about 2 dollars and 10 cents.
lots of photos!
The internet seems to be cooperating this morning, so this post contains a plethora of things I've described before, but not been able to actually post pictures of. Might as well post them all together while the internet is slightly faster than glacially slow.
The first group of photos were all taken during my field visit to Ambatovaky during my first real week in Fianar. They are various facilities/sites of the very active Koloharena farming movement there. (KH is a group of farmers committed to environmentally sustainable farming/conservation of biodiversity that's been around since 1999 or so.)
Maison Koloharenaa – place where Koloharena farmers can hold trainings, have meetings, and store documents to read and share
The meeting we had in the Maison Koloharena.
Centre d’approvisionnement – Small store selling seeds, farming tools, and other needed products. This is an actual transaction happening.
Décortiquerie, rougly translated by me as dehusker/desheller - bought by the Koloharena on microcredit, enables them to sell rice as a value-added product.
Les forgerons - working making mostly farming tools, many of which are sold through various centres d'approvisionnement.
Farmer Field School, where Koloharena members have space to practice different techniques they learn of at the Maison Koloharena.
Also taken in Ambatovaky, I couldn't help but notice how happy this child was playing with such a simple toy. A good reminder of what a shame it is that American children so often play the lead role in parent/child relationships - does each 6 year old really need 30 presents to open at Christmas containing yet another video game?
A traditional Malagasy house foundation/framework.
What they look like finished.
Viewpoint along the RN7 (Route Nationale 7 - road between Antananarivo and Fianarantsoa - perhaps 40k from Fianar)
Malagasy countryside between Fianar and Ambatovaky
A famous rock between Fianar and Ambatovaky. I was having a hard time listening/retaining information after the busy day in Ambatovaky, but I think it might have some ancient writings on it - perhaps describing the location of some hidden gold. Problem is, they're too old for anyone to read. Of course, if people can't read them, how do they know it would tell of treasure???
The very steep path/road leading up into la Ville Haut - the monument in the center contains plaques recognizing all of the people who have donated to the Save the Old City Project.
An attempt to capture the very pretty moon sliver with the first stars of the evening from my porch.
Looking up at the Old City from Lake Anosy - Zoë and I went for a long walk yesterday.
Zöe
One of the SKIP members helping along with a skit. The kids are 'microbes' and they're acting out something about water safety, which was one of the themes they learned about during their time with the SKIPs.
The very lovely dinner that Mariette invited me to on Sunday. Homemade pizza and salads, followed by her famous brownies à la mode.
Mariette et Richard (owners of the Snack (aka café))
Malalatina, one of the children that lives at the house. She was imitating something silly that Danny was doing. She likes to talk, but doesn't speak French, so sometimes she comes up to my room to say hi and we play little kid clapping games.
Theresa's dog, Aza. (like Aza fady, which means excuse me)
And now, a few pictures of crops from my Ranamofana trip. Our hike included a stroll through Tanala (Eastern forest corridor ethnicity/tribe) villages.
Banana tree
Raffia tree
The first group of photos were all taken during my field visit to Ambatovaky during my first real week in Fianar. They are various facilities/sites of the very active Koloharena farming movement there. (KH is a group of farmers committed to environmentally sustainable farming/conservation of biodiversity that's been around since 1999 or so.)
Maison Koloharenaa – place where Koloharena farmers can hold trainings, have meetings, and store documents to read and share
The meeting we had in the Maison Koloharena.
Centre d’approvisionnement – Small store selling seeds, farming tools, and other needed products. This is an actual transaction happening.
Décortiquerie, rougly translated by me as dehusker/desheller - bought by the Koloharena on microcredit, enables them to sell rice as a value-added product.
Les forgerons - working making mostly farming tools, many of which are sold through various centres d'approvisionnement.
Farmer Field School, where Koloharena members have space to practice different techniques they learn of at the Maison Koloharena.
Also taken in Ambatovaky, I couldn't help but notice how happy this child was playing with such a simple toy. A good reminder of what a shame it is that American children so often play the lead role in parent/child relationships - does each 6 year old really need 30 presents to open at Christmas containing yet another video game?
A traditional Malagasy house foundation/framework.
What they look like finished.
Viewpoint along the RN7 (Route Nationale 7 - road between Antananarivo and Fianarantsoa - perhaps 40k from Fianar)
Malagasy countryside between Fianar and Ambatovaky
A famous rock between Fianar and Ambatovaky. I was having a hard time listening/retaining information after the busy day in Ambatovaky, but I think it might have some ancient writings on it - perhaps describing the location of some hidden gold. Problem is, they're too old for anyone to read. Of course, if people can't read them, how do they know it would tell of treasure???
The very steep path/road leading up into la Ville Haut - the monument in the center contains plaques recognizing all of the people who have donated to the Save the Old City Project.
An attempt to capture the very pretty moon sliver with the first stars of the evening from my porch.
Looking up at the Old City from Lake Anosy - Zoë and I went for a long walk yesterday.
Zöe
One of the SKIP members helping along with a skit. The kids are 'microbes' and they're acting out something about water safety, which was one of the themes they learned about during their time with the SKIPs.
The very lovely dinner that Mariette invited me to on Sunday. Homemade pizza and salads, followed by her famous brownies à la mode.
Mariette et Richard (owners of the Snack (aka café))
Malalatina, one of the children that lives at the house. She was imitating something silly that Danny was doing. She likes to talk, but doesn't speak French, so sometimes she comes up to my room to say hi and we play little kid clapping games.
Theresa's dog, Aza. (like Aza fady, which means excuse me)
And now, a few pictures of crops from my Ranamofana trip. Our hike included a stroll through Tanala (Eastern forest corridor ethnicity/tribe) villages.
Banana tree
Raffia tree
01 September 2008
Photo Dump
My porch with the afternoon sun shining on it:
So much hassle and stress just to have stupid stamps put in my passport:
Sunset a few days ago from my porch
The infamous stripper hat
Terraced crops between Tana and Fianar – really quite amazing, as they’re all hand dug – beautiful
So much hassle and stress just to have stupid stamps put in my passport:
Sunset a few days ago from my porch
The infamous stripper hat
Terraced crops between Tana and Fianar – really quite amazing, as they’re all hand dug – beautiful
new arrivals
In other news, there are 2 additions to my living situation:
Dany, a British med student who started the SKIP program, who is doing a one month internship at the hospital here,
And,
A puppy!!! While I was in Tana playing with strays at the vet clinic with Theresa and wishing I could take one home, the kids that live here found a tiny puppy without a mom. His name is Milo and he fits in the palm of my hand. Malagasy dogs eat rice, or often whatever’s left from the table, but he’s really little. I guess that he is in fact eating rice when it’s given to him, but he’s just now learning how to drink – he had been nursing before, so drinking out of a dish is something new. We’ve given him milk and plain yoghurt to take care of his dairy needs. He likes to hang out by the charcoal burners to warm himself (no danger of getting burned though). I’ve heard him crying at night, but not too bad. I hope he makes it… I’m planning on giving him some extra attention this weekend since I will actually be here, and have Monday off.
Also, I may have fleas. Well, I doubt it. But I have a few itchy spots on my leg that are like little tiny bug bites, but don’t see any bugs. No mosquitoes yet, so it’s not that.
adendum:
after writing this, i have decided that i do not have fleas - just a couple bug bites.
Dany, a British med student who started the SKIP program, who is doing a one month internship at the hospital here,
And,
A puppy!!! While I was in Tana playing with strays at the vet clinic with Theresa and wishing I could take one home, the kids that live here found a tiny puppy without a mom. His name is Milo and he fits in the palm of my hand. Malagasy dogs eat rice, or often whatever’s left from the table, but he’s really little. I guess that he is in fact eating rice when it’s given to him, but he’s just now learning how to drink – he had been nursing before, so drinking out of a dish is something new. We’ve given him milk and plain yoghurt to take care of his dairy needs. He likes to hang out by the charcoal burners to warm himself (no danger of getting burned though). I’ve heard him crying at night, but not too bad. I hope he makes it… I’m planning on giving him some extra attention this weekend since I will actually be here, and have Monday off.
Also, I may have fleas. Well, I doubt it. But I have a few itchy spots on my leg that are like little tiny bug bites, but don’t see any bugs. No mosquitoes yet, so it’s not that.
adendum:
after writing this, i have decided that i do not have fleas - just a couple bug bites.
29 August 2008
Expat Observations
During my weekend in Tana I was exposed to the large and vibrant expat community there. I’ve observed various things, both positive and negative about it. Theresa lives in a beautiful house. She has a maid who does all of her cooking and cleaning, who also goes to the market for her etc. She has a woman come to the house for a manicure/pedicure once a month, and the same for a massage appointment. She once mentioned when I was in Tana at the beginning that it’s a good life to be in a developing country on an American salary. Where else could you afford to keep a maid ? Good point, I thought. Plus, living in that manner does contribute to the local economy. Hiring staff at your home helps other people put their kids through school.
During the weekend, we visited her friend Sofia, a Portugeuse woman who works for the World Bank. She lives in the equivilant of the burbs, and also has a beautiful home with a large yard and garden. She has two dogs that she dotes on. Sofia was very fun, seems a little wild and crazy, and is a very outgoing woman. However, I can’t imagine how isolating it must seem to live far out of town in what amounts to a gated community in an expat area.
While both of these women lead a luxurious life in some ways, it also seems that they’re totally missing out on everything Malagasy. It seems that in some expat circles, everything possible is done to avoid actually integrating into Malagasy society. Granted, I was thrilled to find popcorn at the grocery store in Tana, and enjoyed the western comfort of Theresa’s home for the weekend. I’m certainly not turning my back on everything connected to home. But, I guess I always thought that the kind of people who live abroad, whether it be the 3rd world or Western Europe do so based primarily on a desire to learn about other cultures and languages. Rather, I think that many of them just see being here as a job. There is not always an effort to even learn the language. I feel that there’s often an almost colonial sort of relationship between Malagasys and their white higher ups at work. I’ve noticed it most with the drivers. Whenever I’m in a project vehicle, I make some conversation with the drivers, and make sure to say please and thank you – I was really greatful that Jacky could drive me to the various offices I didn’t need to go to in Tana, because I would have been absolutely overwhelmed on my own. I offered him a chocolate when I was so frazzled that I needed one myself. Another driver, Christian, took me down to the taxi brousse station to help me make a reservation to go to Ranamofana. Whenever I walk into or out of the office, the drivers always say hello to me and ask how things are going, and I appreciate that. However, not everybody affords the same respect to them. While I see every Malagasy (that’s not hissing at me or calling me vazaha in the street) as somebody who can teach me something (mostly about their country or language), I think many don’t have a huge desire to get to know them. Granted, people within the same race or nationality get treated as inferior due to class/education/job all the time – but in situations like this it somehow seems less just, or more élitist.
None of this is to say that anybody I know treats their home staff badly – quite the contrary, actually. Often maids are treated more like family, and definately respected and appreciated.
I think that especially in the generation that’s closer to my age, the expats live more normally – in downtown apartments without home staff, which would be much more my style if I ever decided to live somewhere else long term. (My needs are simple -For more than 4 months I definately think I’d spring for somewhere with a toilet and running water, but I wouldn’t need a maid.) At the same time though, after being in the business for a number of years, and living long term in numerous developing countries, I suppose I could see trying to Westernize as much of one’s life as possible.
The most elaborate and beautiful home from the weekend would be Carlina’s. On the same property, she also has a very extensive outdoor kennel area for the 20 or 30 dogs being taken care of waiting to be adopted. Here is a pic of where the absolutly lovely brunch she hosted took place :
During the weekend, we visited her friend Sofia, a Portugeuse woman who works for the World Bank. She lives in the equivilant of the burbs, and also has a beautiful home with a large yard and garden. She has two dogs that she dotes on. Sofia was very fun, seems a little wild and crazy, and is a very outgoing woman. However, I can’t imagine how isolating it must seem to live far out of town in what amounts to a gated community in an expat area.
While both of these women lead a luxurious life in some ways, it also seems that they’re totally missing out on everything Malagasy. It seems that in some expat circles, everything possible is done to avoid actually integrating into Malagasy society. Granted, I was thrilled to find popcorn at the grocery store in Tana, and enjoyed the western comfort of Theresa’s home for the weekend. I’m certainly not turning my back on everything connected to home. But, I guess I always thought that the kind of people who live abroad, whether it be the 3rd world or Western Europe do so based primarily on a desire to learn about other cultures and languages. Rather, I think that many of them just see being here as a job. There is not always an effort to even learn the language. I feel that there’s often an almost colonial sort of relationship between Malagasys and their white higher ups at work. I’ve noticed it most with the drivers. Whenever I’m in a project vehicle, I make some conversation with the drivers, and make sure to say please and thank you – I was really greatful that Jacky could drive me to the various offices I didn’t need to go to in Tana, because I would have been absolutely overwhelmed on my own. I offered him a chocolate when I was so frazzled that I needed one myself. Another driver, Christian, took me down to the taxi brousse station to help me make a reservation to go to Ranamofana. Whenever I walk into or out of the office, the drivers always say hello to me and ask how things are going, and I appreciate that. However, not everybody affords the same respect to them. While I see every Malagasy (that’s not hissing at me or calling me vazaha in the street) as somebody who can teach me something (mostly about their country or language), I think many don’t have a huge desire to get to know them. Granted, people within the same race or nationality get treated as inferior due to class/education/job all the time – but in situations like this it somehow seems less just, or more élitist.
None of this is to say that anybody I know treats their home staff badly – quite the contrary, actually. Often maids are treated more like family, and definately respected and appreciated.
I think that especially in the generation that’s closer to my age, the expats live more normally – in downtown apartments without home staff, which would be much more my style if I ever decided to live somewhere else long term. (My needs are simple -For more than 4 months I definately think I’d spring for somewhere with a toilet and running water, but I wouldn’t need a maid.) At the same time though, after being in the business for a number of years, and living long term in numerous developing countries, I suppose I could see trying to Westernize as much of one’s life as possible.
The most elaborate and beautiful home from the weekend would be Carlina’s. On the same property, she also has a very extensive outdoor kennel area for the 20 or 30 dogs being taken care of waiting to be adopted. Here is a pic of where the absolutly lovely brunch she hosted took place :
28 August 2008
so sad - i'm about to get on a soap box
We all saw the animation of a lost and drowning polar bear in An Inconvenient Truth... unfortunately that problem is not going away - this article in the Times reminded me that Al Gore's cartoon was not a worst case scenario - it's already happening. I encourage all who are able to make a donation to one of the organizations that are lobbying to establish more protection for polar bears threatened by climate change, or even to write to your representative. I don't pretend to think that that fixes everything, or that there is no corruption within organizations accepting donations, or that most politicians really care that much, but lots of people doing little things will add up.
Above all, we should all be riding around on bikes, walking, and using public transportation as much as possible.
A few ideas:
The WWF
Polar Bear SOS - Leo DiCaprio got some flack for 'wasting paper' to save bears on this project, but I believe that most conservation organisations send too much mail - something to be worked on
Greenpeace
Above all, we should all be riding around on bikes, walking, and using public transportation as much as possible.
A few ideas:
The WWF
Polar Bear SOS - Leo DiCaprio got some flack for 'wasting paper' to save bears on this project, but I believe that most conservation organisations send too much mail - something to be worked on
Greenpeace
At long last - sort of at least
Well folks, I am officially legal until October 28th. Everything went so easily in Fianar. I went to the bureau du district when the right woman was there. Her name was Françoise, and she verified that my papers were in order - I just needed Sophie to come to the office with me so that we could do signatures together. In the meantime though, I could extend my visa another 2 months at the police station in the immigration office. So, I went there, and talked to another Françoise. She verified that I only needed a signed letter from Sophie, and to pay the 80,000 Ar fee, and I'd be all set until October 28th. I paid the fee, got the letter from Sophie last night, and got the correct stamps in my passport this morning. I can now relax a little, and Sophie and I can go to the bureau de districte next week to make the final request. After that, even if the visa doesn't come, I'll have proof/a receipt that I started the process. Alleluia!!!!
Also, even before all of this was done, I reread my visa frustration post, and I have to say it made me laugh. Is it ever really another way when dealing with foreign bureaucracy???
Also, even before all of this was done, I reread my visa frustration post, and I have to say it made me laugh. Is it ever really another way when dealing with foreign bureaucracy???
Pooping in holes
Really, how have I not talked about this yet?!? Below are pictures of my bathroom/shower facilities. The door on the far right opens to the area where a bucket of hot and cold water are brought each morning for me to bathe.
Below is the actual latrine. The plug is covering the hole, and it slants down so that urine runs out. There's also a little reservoir for hand washing.
This is the sign that's up on the wall. The small print on the bottom says: "If your intelligence is insulted by these instructions, we apologize. You should have seen some of the antics previous users have tried while attempting to pee in the hole. We wish to spare you that indignity."
Somewhat surprisingly, it is very easy to use, and I don't have a problem with it. The only annoying part is that it seems to be impossible to avoid small splattering on the feet - good thing the water spigit is there to rinse them off!
Below is the actual latrine. The plug is covering the hole, and it slants down so that urine runs out. There's also a little reservoir for hand washing.
This is the sign that's up on the wall. The small print on the bottom says: "If your intelligence is insulted by these instructions, we apologize. You should have seen some of the antics previous users have tried while attempting to pee in the hole. We wish to spare you that indignity."
Somewhat surprisingly, it is very easy to use, and I don't have a problem with it. The only annoying part is that it seems to be impossible to avoid small splattering on the feet - good thing the water spigit is there to rinse them off!
26 August 2008
#@$*&#^@!!!!
I went to the Bureau du Districte this morning, bringing along the letter that the Walker Police Department wrote, stamped, and notorized in less than 24 hours verifying that I am not a criminal in my home country. The 'responsable' (boss/person in charge of what I needed) will not be there today at all. I'm to come back tomorrow morning. Effing bastard bureaucracy!!!
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