Fantastic! We’ve just been told that we can have our Saturday morning shift of shitpacking (jamming compost into plastic seedling bags) to recover from a late and debaucherous night of drinking and dancing at Gina’s (the local club). We were quite prepared to work on less than 2 hours sleep, no one complained, but Heather could see we were struggling and we have been working like oxen the last week.
We are working on building the cement blocks for another latrine, this time for a primary school that currently has no toilet. We alternate block-making shifts with teaching English at the Azafady classroom and the local high school, and shit-packing in preparation for two weeks of tree planting the week after next.
The last week here in Fort Dauphin has been pure luxury compared to Mahamdromata. Lanirano, our campground, has running water, toilets, showers, lights, a big dinning table and is across the road from an Epi-bar (essentially a hole-in-the-wall corner store with cold beer etc.). The landscape is dotted with palms, hibiscus and orchids and a fantastic mountain and rock face tower behind our tents. The campsite is busy with people working in the gardens and students who attend sustainable livelihood classes in the schoolhouse. We also have a flock of geese, numerous chickens and their chicks and a pack of dogs. Two of the camp dogs regularly accompany us to work, Gremlin – a very racist and grumpy guard dog who loves the Vahaza, and Tiny – a funny looking creature with a normal sized head and about 2 inches of leg.
Every morning we walk the 3.5 km to work along with children singing their way to school, men transporting two massive baskets on a stick over their shoulders with loads of bananas, fish or cassava and other workers heading into town. Really the work has become very monotonous and our banter has become increasingly desperate. I now know my fellow pioneers as intimately as a know some of my oldest friends. We entertain ourselves with innuendo day, opera day and rap day etc. The highlight of our town stay is food and beach! We have been treating ourselves to local restaurants and the SMAR (supermarket) has become a daily trip. We are all concerned about the return of rice and beans with our return to the bush next Friday. For me the best part of working in town is the beach. Each lunch hour we head down to Ancuba surf club and lie on some very dilapidated beach chairs or play in the perfect surf. If the mood strikes us we wander into the bar and order a crepe au chocolate or a cassis fanta. Luxury!
We estimate that we walk over 10 km a day, Fort Dauphin is actually a town of 40,000 and quite spread out. Although I speak of the amenities we are enjoying, most people here live a very basic life. Most houses are constructed of traveller’s palms and the majority of cooking is done with coal that is sold in little piles on the roadside. Most of the roads are deep sand and are littered with decades of plastic garbage. Garbage is a huge issue here. The beach I referred to before has been used as a dumpsite for so long that although the actual sand is now litter free the steep cliffs of the beach are practically made of garbage. Wind and surf erode more and more of it and I suspect it goes many metres deep. Another issue is that the beaches are used as defecation sites. Few people have toilettes and the result is that many of Fort Dauphin's beautiful beaches are unusable. Even Gina’s doesn’t have a toilet and Azafady staff jokes that building one should be our next project.
We are starting to feel more and more comfortable manoeuvring around the city though. Rich and I now regularly eat fried bananas and samosas from the market. And our basic Malagash is creating many happy smiles and greetings in return.
I feel I’ve been a bit remiss at including some of the other key people in my life here in Madagascar and Fort Dauphin. Heather is our group co-ordinater. She’s the one that fields our daily gamut of questions, rubs our back when we get sick and communicates between us the Azafady office and the construction site. She was a Pioneer last year and fell in love with more than one aspect of the country. She’s only 23 and I’m impressed how she’s mastered the balance of leader and friend. We’ve nick named her She-Ra for her stamina in the cement mixing pit and overall. We also have three guides that work as language and cultural translators, brute strength on the site, moral boosters and endless variations of the above. Lumba, Claude and Tinihy have become our close friends and we enjoy their constantly smiling faces, careful guidance and years of knowledge in bridging the gap between the Vahaza and the Malagasy culture. Frequent catch phrases are “you can do it” (I will have to repeat the exact tone when I get home), “elefa” (come on- use when you are sitting on your ass and others are working), “it’s against my culture” (often an excuse to not do something). Other group phrases are “you look lovely” (used particularity when you are covered in cement, or lamenting on the state of your body), “thought hug” (accompanied by fingers to the temples).
Tonight we are treating ourselves to a night of even more luxury. Catherine, Elsbeth, Rich and I are renting a bungalow in town to crawl back to after Gina’s. We did it last weekend and beds, hot shower, mirror and location were enough to tempt us one last time. The cost is about $9 each half what the taxi ride home would cost each of us. Well worth it.
I'm sorry but I can't cope with loading photos. It just takes waaay to long. Next blog will be a photo essay. xo
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Monday, February 4, 2008
Mahamdromata - Building Latrine for local hospital
Well I’m back in one piece. Thrilled to bits at the prospect of a meal that does not consist of rice and beans, and the ability to have a cold drink when I want, but also super proud of my team and the completion of our Hospital latrine building project in Mahamdromata.
The small Fukuntani (village) that we were working in was only 17 kilometers away from Fort Dauphin but it took over an hour to get there as the roads were so full of pot holes and the vehicles are so old. Our camp was desolate at best. The only shade was provided by two heavy, holey canvas tarps that did nothing to keep out the furnace-like wind and little to protect us from the driving tropical rain. We fondly refered to home-sweet-home as ‘the Sahara’. The one
good thing was that the Sahara also doubled as a football pitch (can you tell I’ve been with Brits for the last 4 weeks) so almost every evening we were treated to a fantastic game of footy (soccer) by a troop of men that, Rich correctly pointed out, could all be featured on the cover of Men’s Health. The games were a nice evening distraction from the evening meals of Kidney beans, Bullet Beans, Butter beans, White beans, lentils, Black eyed beans ect. (you get the point).
Every morning we would get up at 5:30. Now this sounds early, but seriously I never used an alarm, or really even groaned at getting up. It’s not easy to sleep in when the rooster has been crowing since 3am, the children are staring from the other side of the rope that designates our personal space, and calling Salama Vahaza (Good morning white person) and the sun is quickly turning your slumber into a personal sauna. We all eagerly elected to start work at 6:30 rather than 7am because the sun was scorching and the sweat running by the time breakfast was finished.
Work was hard. The tools were crap when they were first used two years ago. They are now far beyond what we would consider garbage. I quickly realized that we are called Pioneers (the name of the groups that volunteer with Azafady) because we do things like pioneers in the 1600s in North America did. Cutting wood for a building with hand saws, making cement slap reinforcement but cutting rebar by hand and tying it together with wire, and chiseling eucalyptus wood with a wooden hammer to slot the pieces together for the frame of the building. There are three reasons for the simplicity of the tools. One: No power (none for cold beer after work either). Two: No money, even Azafady is poor by NGO standards. Three: Even if there was the money, the tools, even decent paint and certain colours, are simply not available here. There are no Home Depots.
We worked until 10:30 every morning unless the work was time sensitive. As in another load of cement needed to go down or it would dry. By the way: Has anyone ever mixed cement with shovels? Wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of it, until you can’t lift your arms? Insane! And then we actually made the cinder blocks ourselves, with molds. And often your carefully turned out block would crumble at your feet and you would have to scoop it all up with your hands and go back to the pit and pack it all again! We did a lot of cement mixing the first two weeks to frame the walls of the sewers. Then we made the metal rebars for the floor and then we built the hut for the latrine at the top. I tell you I’ve never been so proud of a shitter in my life. And Dad you are so going to have a picture of it framed on your bathroom wall! From 10:30 until 2pm we had a Malagash lesson, ate rice and beans, and hid as best we could from the mid-day sun. We also went the river (don’t get excited, it was pretty stagnant and smelly) to collect water for our evening bucket showers. The afternoon work continued until around 4:30. At that time we crawled back to camp and enjoyed a few hours of cool and clean, watched an amazing sunset, and gazed at the billions and billions of stars!
It was hard, but it was so rewarding. The group is fantastic. Rachel is a darling, so innocent and lovely. Nina is just 18 and very intelligent and opinionated. She will learn a lot about the way of the world from us older ones in the group. Elsbeth is freaking hilarious, super sarcastic and always making us laugh (she is with the lemur in the bottom picture). She and Rich decided they were going to be a trailer trash couple ‘Britney and BillyBob’ and it was a running joke for days and we all talked in trailer trash accents. “Oh Billybob, I love the way you hammer that nail.” Kathrine is also great fun and she has some fantastic stories from her days of working at FHM! Rich is more than we could ask for in a token American man. He’s enthusiastic, loves to laugh, never grumpy, totally cool with all the girl talk , and quite anti Bush. I’ve got friends for life here.
The children were enthralled with us and dozens of them followed us everywhere, imitating our actions and learning our names and calling them every time we passed. (the picture below is all the kids watching while we set up our tents) One afternoon we performed a thoroughly embarrassing play about pooing near your water source and getting bacteria in the water and getting sick with diarrhea. Then we sang a song in Malagash about washing your hands before you ate and after you pooed. They really loved it and I hope it will stick in there minds long after we leave.
We have had a few fantastic days off here too, and one crazy night out! We went to a nature reserve and got to visit with some very friendly lemurs and tortoises, as well as
quietly drift down a tropical river in a small boat. The day was also more hilarious than normal, because we were quite hungover! The last two Sundays we have traveled two beautiful beaches, and I must say my tan is coming along fantastically. The surf is great too, although so far I’ve only been on a boogie board.
I was asked by my roommate just before I left what I really though I could do to help in Africa. He meant what can you do for them that they can’t or shouldn’t do for themselves? I said I would get back to him and now I can. The first is, of course, the money. These people are so very very poor. I saw this quite heart achingly as we were leaving camp yesterday and all our carefully collected garbage was
dumped in a shallow hole. Before we had a chance to cover it up dozens of children and some adults were digging through. A foot of rope could be untwined to make three feet of rope. A discarded pamphlet makes good toilet paper. A tic-tac container holds small items, a tin can will be flattened to patch a roof..ect. But also, simply by being here, by showing the effort and taking the time to come all the way from our respective countries to build a latrine for the community and the sick people in hospital they appreciate the importance of what we are doing and the heart that is behind it. The work we did will especially resonate with children, most of whom, for the rest of there lives, will remember those weeks when the Vahaza came to town and built that loo.
The small Fukuntani (village) that we were working in was only 17 kilometers away from Fort Dauphin but it took over an hour to get there as the roads were so full of pot holes and the vehicles are so old. Our camp was desolate at best. The only shade was provided by two heavy, holey canvas tarps that did nothing to keep out the furnace-like wind and little to protect us from the driving tropical rain. We fondly refered to home-sweet-home as ‘the Sahara’. The one
good thing was that the Sahara also doubled as a football pitch (can you tell I’ve been with Brits for the last 4 weeks) so almost every evening we were treated to a fantastic game of footy (soccer) by a troop of men that, Rich correctly pointed out, could all be featured on the cover of Men’s Health. The games were a nice evening distraction from the evening meals of Kidney beans, Bullet Beans, Butter beans, White beans, lentils, Black eyed beans ect. (you get the point).Every morning we would get up at 5:30. Now this sounds early, but seriously I never used an alarm, or really even groaned at getting up. It’s not easy to sleep in when the rooster has been crowing since 3am, the children are staring from the other side of the rope that designates our personal space, and calling Salama Vahaza (Good morning white person) and the sun is quickly turning your slumber into a personal sauna. We all eagerly elected to start work at 6:30 rather than 7am because the sun was scorching and the sweat running by the time breakfast was finished.
Work was hard. The tools were crap when they were first used two years ago. They are now far beyond what we would consider garbage. I quickly realized that we are called Pioneers (the name of the groups that volunteer with Azafady) because we do things like pioneers in the 1600s in North America did. Cutting wood for a building with hand saws, making cement slap reinforcement but cutting rebar by hand and tying it together with wire, and chiseling eucalyptus wood with a wooden hammer to slot the pieces together for the frame of the building. There are three reasons for the simplicity of the tools. One: No power (none for cold beer after work either). Two: No money, even Azafady is poor by NGO standards. Three: Even if there was the money, the tools, even decent paint and certain colours, are simply not available here. There are no Home Depots.
We worked until 10:30 every morning unless the work was time sensitive. As in another load of cement needed to go down or it would dry. By the way: Has anyone ever mixed cement with shovels? Wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of it, until you can’t lift your arms? Insane! And then we actually made the cinder blocks ourselves, with molds. And often your carefully turned out block would crumble at your feet and you would have to scoop it all up with your hands and go back to the pit and pack it all again! We did a lot of cement mixing the first two weeks to frame the walls of the sewers. Then we made the metal rebars for the floor and then we built the hut for the latrine at the top. I tell you I’ve never been so proud of a shitter in my life. And Dad you are so going to have a picture of it framed on your bathroom wall! From 10:30 until 2pm we had a Malagash lesson, ate rice and beans, and hid as best we could from the mid-day sun. We also went the river (don’t get excited, it was pretty stagnant and smelly) to collect water for our evening bucket showers. The afternoon work continued until around 4:30. At that time we crawled back to camp and enjoyed a few hours of cool and clean, watched an amazing sunset, and gazed at the billions and billions of stars!It was hard, but it was so rewarding. The group is fantastic. Rachel is a darling, so innocent and lovely. Nina is just 18 and very intelligent and opinionated. She will learn a lot about the way of the world from us older ones in the group. Elsbeth is freaking hilarious, super sarcastic and always making us laugh (she is with the lemur in the bottom picture). She and Rich decided they were going to be a trailer trash couple ‘Britney and BillyBob’ and it was a running joke for days and we all talked in trailer trash accents. “Oh Billybob, I love the way you hammer that nail.” Kathrine is also great fun and she has some fantastic stories from her days of working at FHM! Rich is more than we could ask for in a token American man. He’s enthusiastic, loves to laugh, never grumpy, totally cool with all the girl talk , and quite anti Bush. I’ve got friends for life here.
The children were enthralled with us and dozens of them followed us everywhere, imitating our actions and learning our names and calling them every time we passed. (the picture below is all the kids watching while we set up our tents) One afternoon we performed a thoroughly embarrassing play about pooing near your water source and getting bacteria in the water and getting sick with diarrhea. Then we sang a song in Malagash about washing your hands before you ate and after you pooed. They really loved it and I hope it will stick in there minds long after we leave.
We have had a few fantastic days off here too, and one crazy night out! We went to a nature reserve and got to visit with some very friendly lemurs and tortoises, as well as
quietly drift down a tropical river in a small boat. The day was also more hilarious than normal, because we were quite hungover! The last two Sundays we have traveled two beautiful beaches, and I must say my tan is coming along fantastically. The surf is great too, although so far I’ve only been on a boogie board.I was asked by my roommate just before I left what I really though I could do to help in Africa. He meant what can you do for them that they can’t or shouldn’t do for themselves? I said I would get back to him and now I can. The first is, of course, the money. These people are so very very poor. I saw this quite heart achingly as we were leaving camp yesterday and all our carefully collected garbage was
dumped in a shallow hole. Before we had a chance to cover it up dozens of children and some adults were digging through. A foot of rope could be untwined to make three feet of rope. A discarded pamphlet makes good toilet paper. A tic-tac container holds small items, a tin can will be flattened to patch a roof..ect. But also, simply by being here, by showing the effort and taking the time to come all the way from our respective countries to build a latrine for the community and the sick people in hospital they appreciate the importance of what we are doing and the heart that is behind it. The work we did will especially resonate with children, most of whom, for the rest of there lives, will remember those weeks when the Vahaza came to town and built that loo.
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