A familiar feeling

“Sometimes home is a state a mind. And you can go there anytime.”

We had fried bananas for breakfast. They were amazing! Neny was artfully baking in the open fire chimney stove while the kids and I had breakfast. I scarfed down three and decided to chill for a little, just to make sure that the kids also got their share. They noticed that I had stopped eating and tattled on me. I thought that was funny, also thoughtful of them to notice. We each had five fried bananas. After breakfast, Neny and I walked down to the water hole to do laundry. The girls ran around and washed their hair as well. We spent about three hours of being hunched over, low to the ground washing and wringing clothes out from a plastic basin. It was tiring. My back felt like it was going to crack any minute. I periodically would stand. Neny was faster than I was. Every time I had finished wringing out the last piece of clothing, she would pour more water into my basin to re-rinse. We rinsed three-four times. I lost count. I was exhausted. After laundry, we got water and then helped cook lunch. We had lentils and rice which were really good. A little girl stopped by with a market basket of fish that she was selling. I witnessed bargaining at its finest in our kitchen when Neny went down to negotiate a lower price with her mother.

If we all spoke a language that we could all understand, or several languages that we could understand with EACHOTHER around the globe, would being called a foreigner exist? What would it be like to live in a world where we could all verbally understand one another? Would it be more like visiting EACHOTHER instead of being seen as foreign to any one given place? I’m still intrigued by the fact that students in small villages across the world are encouraged to learn three languages. Malagasy, French, and English.

It’s hard to sometimes “turn off” my American ways. I’ve been sleeping in for the past few days because I’ve been exhausted from the day. When I wake up, I only have time for breakfast and to quickly change and brush my teeth. One morning, I woke up and quickly ate breakfast. I realized that I had forgotten vavaka (to say prayer) halfway through my meal. I laughed it off and my host family thought it was funny too. Most things I do they laugh at. Sometimes when I am helping to bring food to the table, I have the urge to “snack” on the way and pick a bite off the plate, as I normally often do in the states. I have not done that here because taste check snacking is not a thing so I fight the temptation every time of picking off the plate and patiently wait until prayer is said and everyone  is seated together. Mealtime seems to be very important. Dada closes his shop to join us for lunch everyday. Every business in fact shuts down during lunch hour. There have  been days lately where I’ve thought about skipping lunch to nap instead and buying something at the market in between class but I don’t think it would fly too well. I appreciate that being together during meals is important.

 On my walk to language class this morning it was raining. There was a man guiding two cows on the road soley through commands. I got a little scarred when I noticed the cows turning  in my direction as I walked right by them. They almost roam freely as do the geese, chickens, ducks and roosters. Chickens frequently roamed into our language class today which was pretty funny and distracting. I watched TV with my host family today in their room while waiting for dinner on the oldest television set I have ever seen. Mamay asked if I had a television in Arizona. I said yes. It makes me wonder how much of “U.S.” or “American” culture they know. Another volunteer mentioned that her host family had never heard of McDonald’s or Starbucks. How cool is that! Wow. I think it is awesome to still be able to meet and be at places where so much feels like it is still untouched. It makes me wonder also how much of my own mannerisms, ways of being is bizarre and new.

Ruva was singing the Macarena today during dinner again. When I first heard this song playing at my host family’s house, I was shocked! Never thought that there would be a Malagasy version of the Macarena! I cracked up so loud! I’ve since sung the song  in Spanish a few times, which they love to hear.

This morning as I sat with my sisters and brother eating breakfast, I didn’t hesitate to yell out a question to Neny, who was in the kitchen frying mofo sakay (fried bread with greens). I paused for a second to think about that very moment.  It was a feeling of being home, and I called out in the middle of having breakfast as I would to any one of my relatives at home.

Mind blown.

I have no expectations. I see the world as new everyday.

The idea alone of basking in hot springs in the wilderness in Madagascar made me feel like a goddess. Dipping in steamy mineral pools was exactly what I craved after a month of intense language and cross cultural training. When we finished our month of living with our home-stay families, we went on a technical trip in Antsirabe, the second largest city in Madagascar to visit schools, organizations, and to basically breathe. We were told there were hot springs in Antsirabe and headed for them as soon as we had an open time slot in our schedule.  If this is what some wells look like in this country, I couldn’t wait to see what sort of magical place the hot springs would be.

I was super excited. I  anticipated relaxing my back and having time to appreciate the outdoors in a steamy pool so much so that I CHECKED OUT OF REALITY for about 15 minutes. In the meanwhile, we had parked in front of a big European looking building, paid 1000 Ariary each, and sat inside an area and waited. I was still mentally checked out. I failed to realize that my outdoor experience was turning into an indoor mystery. My friends and I waited patiently when a frantic man called off numbers in French. Then he pulled my arm and signaled me to follow him. I wondered why my friends were left behind as I was rushed into a room with a tub and a woman pulled the plug to fill it with water. Ahhhh! Ha ha! Not quite what I expected. I had imagined soaking in a pool not only OUTDOORS, but also certainly with the company of my friends. I quickly asked if it was ok if two or three namana (friends) could possibly be together in Malagassy. The man rushed out.  It worked! Charlotte was pulled into my room and we laughed hysterically as we both sat in our hot bathtub. I wonder whose  ridiculous idea it was to enclose the springs. A third friend joined us in our tub. We overflowed it and had to be shown how to drain the tub. When the woman walked in and saw three “vazaha” (foreign) girls with our feet hanging out from the tub, she giggled a little. I hadn’t laughed so loud in a long time. And soaking in spring water is always relaxing, even if it is in a bathtub 

I was lost in the colors  of the abundance of fruit at the market when I curiously walked behind into the depths of the big market. Charlotte was shopping for basket hangings. I bought a pineapple and the vendor sliced open a passionfruit and handed it to me. There I was, mindblown, savoring a passion fruit in my mouth for the very first time. It was AMAZING! We went back everyday for the remaining days we had in Antsirabe to buy passionfruit. We had street food for lunch at the market and even prayed as people smiled and watched in curiosity at the two vazah (foreign) girls who admired the richness of the market and found market Nenys (moms) who greeted us everyday. I felt like a visitor at times in Antsirabe, rather than a tourist. Ironically, the Internet cafe was across the street from the market. There, I had the luxury of posting my first two blogs at while I sipped on South African red wine.

I enjoyed exploring the market world in the city. I loved walking around the streets just to see what sorts of food was sold, and what else was  around. It was fun and great to be able to  practice speaking Malagasy every time I got. The more we inquired about the individuality of each person by  asking what their name was, deferring the statement of “bonjour vazaha,” the less we were viewed as foreigners.