Crazy Sunday

Sunday June 24^th, 2012

Today was fun.  Kinda.

Set my alarm for 6:30am, and was expecting to out the door by 7:30 to give me an 1 ½ hours to get to church in Sab-Nam (SabotsyNamehana), where E. Bergera is training E. Marsh, both of whom I taught in the MTC.  So the alarm definitely went off at 6:30, and another one at 6:35.  And then I definitely woke up at… 9:22, roughly 3 hours later.  Ruhroh.  So, I quickly went downstairs to take a shower, and just as quickly realized that even though I checked with Lea the night before to make sure there would be hot water, alas, there was none.  But being a man, I sucked it up and took a freezing cold squatting***shower Like, my-skin-is-burning freezing. So there’s that.

***(squatting b/c there’s not shower curtain so if I stand up water goes everywhere.  Even squatting in the tub, water still goes everywhere, maybe I’m just incompetent). 

Finally got out the door and all that jazz by 10ish (looking back I’m not sure what took so long, but I’m generally slow in the mornings, so not too surprised).  Took a taxi to Analamahitsy to save time (which it did), and then got on a bus to Sab-Nam.  Then about 20 minutes later, I realized it wasn’t quite the bus I needed (didn’t go as far into Sab-Nam as I hoped).  So I got off the bus and was directed by a couple Malagasies to get another bus, which I was told I could find on the other side of this market.

Adventure time:

So I started into the market, which as you (if you know anything about Madagascar) can imagine included lots of rotting meat hanging on hooks, dried fish, live chickens, ducks, and geese, and of course a large and varied assortment of fruits and vegetables upon which at any moment may rest several hundred… trillion flies. So I exaggerate… a little. The point is that this market was no tiny 10 stall market, this one was actually quite large, and so I wandered through it for a good 5 minutes before I finally started asking people about the bus, and found out I was actually going generally in the right direction.  Five minutes later, I emerged from the scented cacophony into a dirt-ish road, confirmed I was still going in the right direction, and continued walking. 

I was distracted for about 5 minutes when I saw a phone charger for sale (and I had lost my phone charger the day before, so I kind of needed one…yes it was Sunday, don’t judge.) and bought it for 3,000Ar ($1.5).  Five minutes included seeing one, asking about it, walking 100 feet to get it tested out, finding out it didn’t work, and buying one from the stand where we tested out the first one.  Felt bad for the first guy cuz I don’t know if he made any money, but hey his charger didn’t actually work so… *sad face*. 

Anywho, kept walking and occasionally asking if I was headed towards this elusive bus and was continually told yes.  At one point, after walking for about 15 minutes, I was informed I was already in the section of “town” to which I was supposed to take the bus and so I switched my inquiry from “does H-Bus which goes to Tsarafara pass by here?” to “do you know where the church is where 2 white guys like me pray?” which was relatively successful.  I kept following the pointed fingers, until HOLY HALELUJAH the freaking H-Bus finally rumbled past me, a good 20 minutes into my walk.  So I flagged it down, confirmed it was the right bus, and hopped aboard.  An extensive 75 seconds later I was informed we were at my stop, and that I could get off.  I could just barely see the place where I got on the bus.  Oh well, 10 cents had saved me 3 minutes of walking and made sure I knew when to turn down a certain dirt road.  So turn I did and finally found the church at about 11… 10?  A little after 11am, right as Sunday School was starting.  

There were a million cars in the driveway so I was kind of afraid that some big deal was going down and that I’d be interrupting President Donnelly, but luckily it was just Branch Conference in a Stake where I literally know almost every person with a Stake calling haha.  So I poked my head in SS room to catch the attention of the missionaries, which was of course priceless.  First Bergera saw me, took him a good 5 seconds of looking at me to figure out who I was (I hadn’t shaved since Tuesday when I left).  Finally his face kind of lit up, and then I tried catching Marsh’ attention who was equally hilarious because he seemed even more confused and the kind of like “what the heck?!”.  So I motioned to them and they both came over to the door and I said hi to them outside.  They were like “Brother Jenkins! Wait… what the freak are you doing in Madagascar?!” Oh ya know, just stopping by.  By “said Hi” I mean I talked to them for a few minutes, and then Fr. Leon (stake calling from another ward I know) poked his head around and said Hi.  Then I talked to Bergera and Marsh for a bit, then another member I knew said Hi, and then more chatting, and then more members.  In between all this I called O’Day and talked to him a bit about my projects and his projects and when we could meet and etc.  And all of this went on for about an hour.  There were literally over a dozen members I knew from different wards at this Branch I had never even been to haha. 

We went back in for the last few minutes of SS which was a discussion by the Stake President about how the branch could become a ward and how many members and priesthood holders they need, etc etc.  And then once church was over, I ended up talking to everyone again and the missionaries for another hour.  And then it was time to go, so I headed off with the missionaries to teach some times.  

The first lady had to go to work though, so that didn’t happen.  Then the second lady was a recent convert who was… hilarious.  And by hilarious, I mean that if she spoke English she would be extremely racist and incredibly rude, but because she’s Malagasy she’s hilarious.  

Here’s a sampling of our conversation:

Her: “Yeah this kid here (indicating Bergera), he doesn’t talk much.  Raoilison talked a lot (Gino Raoilison  was the missionary Marsh replaced).  But he better start talking.  Everyone loved Raoilison because he talked a lot.  But people also thought he was a total femmy.  I mean all the girls loved him, because he’s kind of girly.  Even Grandma Therese was like “yeah, he’s a little girl”.  

Also this: “Yeah your eyes are kind of mean (talking about Marsh, who has blue eyes).  They scared my son away.  Like this guy’s (Bergera, dark eyes) eyes aren’t too bad, and he’s kind of dark (tan) too. He’s almost Malagasy. But you’re pretty white.  You don’t talk much either though.  Why don’t you say anything? But the girls will like that.  My son is really shy and doesn’t talk much, but the girls from school totally love him – they chase him all the time.  But this guys eyes (talking about Bergera) they’re kind of like Bruce Lee’s. “

Me: “Who?”

Her: “Bruce Lee, the karate film guy.”

Me: “Oh like Jackie Chan, Bruce Lee…”

Her: “Yeah, but not like Jackie Chan.  His eyes are way too Chinese.  They’re really small and squinty.  I think they look ugly.  No, Bruce Lee, his eyes are not too squinty, so they’re still all right.”

And this: “Y’all better start working hard (talking to the missionaries).  If you don’t work hard all the kids around here are going to join the Satanic Club.  There was a girl walking home the other day by those tombs up there*** and some of those Satan Club kids knocked her out and someone found her on the road unconscious and she couldn’t remember anything, so they took her to the doctor.”

***Cultural Note: Malagasies who live central part of the country (highest elevations) belong to tribes who bury their dead in semi-subterranean tombs.  While most current tombs are built out in the boonies, there are tons of tombs still in the cities.  It’s totally normal to see tombs next to roads and people’s houses, and people walk past them all the time.   

Me: “Wait so how do you know about this Satanic Club?”

Her: “Oh a kid at the school I teach at gave me this! [Pulls off photocopied typed up page of what is essentially a long WARNING note that says some Satan Club is making the rounds and watch out or it’ll gitya! About as legit looking as one of those obnoxious “forward this and all your dreams will come true” chain emails].  Yeah there was one in Antsirabe [as the note indicates] and now its come to Sab-Nam! Y’all better work hard or all our kids are gonna join the Satan Club.  There are kids already hanging out by those tombs all the time!”

I attempted to suppress a chuckle and a broad grin, not sure how well I did.   

And finally this: “Yeah you better starting talking (to the missionaries) or no one is gonna join the church.  But this one (indicating Marsh) you know, [turns to him] you’re pretty handsome.  I bet all the girls will love you.  [Turns to me] So are you gonna marry a Malagasy girl?”

Me: “No…”

Her: “What! Why not?! What do you hate Malagasies or something?!”

Me: “No! no! I just… it ruins missionary work…”

Her: “Well you should marry one anyways.  Why don’t you Americans ever marry Malagasies?  Like British people, they marry Malagasies all the time, but you Americans, I don’t think you like Malagasies.”

Me: “I mean I like Malagasies I just…”

Her: “No y’all don’t like Malagasies.  You’ll marry Phillipinos, but not Malagasies.  And we’re practically the same.  They’re kind of dark like us, and they’re kind of Asian looking like us.  If you marry Phillipinos why don’t you marry Malagasies?”

Me (finally giving up and resorting to blatant lies): “Well I actually have a girlfriend back in the US so…”

Her: “Oh, I see.” [Whatsmost hilarious here is that her “Americans marry Phillipinos” things is based on ONE anecdote of a missionary who used to work in the area, who has a brother who married a Philipino girl, lol]. 

So after this lovely visit, we left, but ended up stopping in the empty lot next door to take some pictures.  When we were finally done, the neighbor lady actually came around to ask if the missionaries could pray for someone, and I was already late to go meet O’Day, so I let them deal with the potential investigator/potentially awkward/crazy situation and started walking.  Finally found a taxi a good 10-15 minutes later, talked him down to 15,000Ar to get into town (he started at 25,000 and I was hoping for 12,000).  

Got to O’Day half an hour later and met Lacee his friend/business partner who’s here in Madagascar for 3 months setting up stuff for a business that his non-profit (Madagascar Cooperative Foundation) and our non-profit (Small Candles) are/about to be co-owners of, called The Village Store.  We also talked about his other business TranoMirary which is an affordable housing company he started. 

Elder Slater and ELDER Safidy (I forgot his Malagasy last name… Ramiarimanana?)stopped by which was cool to say Hi and talk to them again.  (E. Slater was AP when I was here last year so I got to know him a bit then, and Safidy was a mini several times while I was a missionary so that’s how I know him). 

We set up some plans for later in the week to do some filming and meetings and it was getting late so they went back to Ampitatafika and I went back ‘home’ to Soavinandriana which is close(ish) to the center of town) in a ward called Anjanahary. 

Made myself some bread with Laughing Cow Cheese (doesn’t need refrigeration) and had a juice box (cute, huh?) and had a Bounty Bar (!!! Like an almond-less Almond Joy, but somehow wayyy better).  Yep that was dinner. 

Alright, that was my day.  Rating: Fairly successful. 

First Day Back

Saturday 23 June 2012

The day I finally got to Madagascar!

This day started in a plane somewhere over Africa, however (as has been referenced earlier) I didn’t get much sleep so who’s counting?  They served us some slightly less impressive breakfast (bread, butter jam, Fromage Blanc which is a mix between cream cheese and yoghurt, hot chocolate, juice in a tiny cup with a foil lid, and … a croissant!

The rest of the flight was unremarkable.  Mostly because I had an aisle seat and we were flying over the ocean.  Landed in La Reunion almost on time (despite leaving so late).  Unfortunately, when we got off the plane I misread the sign that pointed out the directions to go for connecting flights and baggage claim, so I ended up in the baggage claim area, when I didn’t have any bags to claim, and then had to go back through security for no reason at all.  Oh well, I got a nice picture of the mountains through the window.  I sat in the terminal for a couple hours, then our flight was called and off we went.  Hooray!  I was still reeeerysreeepy so I slept most of the flight and I when I woke up we were already over Madagascar which was completely covered in clouds.  They thinned a little over the outskirts of Tana so I could see some of the countryside which was nice.  As soon as I started seeing some familiar places from the plane, I couldn’t stop from grinning.  Like literally, I probably had the goofiest grin on my face as I walked down the steps from the plane.  I don’t know what it is about going back to Madagascar, but I just get so happy J. 

Then I went through Visa land.  Happiness gone L.  Just kidding.  But they were a lot more stringent than the last time I came, and I’m staying for longer, so it was a little bit of a hassle.  I stood in line (in the right line) for a bit, then I started talking to this lady who looked at my form and told me I need to fill out the exact address of my stay here (like anyone could ever find an address anyways…) and I (very dumbly) had not printed off the address, so I got permission to go outside of the security area and talk to Barege who was picking me up.  Except that Barege hadn’t shown up yet and so I kind wandered around all these Malagasies who were looking at me, or asking me to get in their taxis.  So I went and pulled out some money from the ATM and went back into the Visa/security land (which is like the most egregious violation of security I could ever imagine, but hey its Madagascar).  So I filled in a fake address on my form (with the right city/neighborhood at least) and showed it to the lady who accepted it, pointed me to the place to pay for my Visa.  So I paid for it, then brought back the receipt and passport to the guy who gives you the actual Visa, but now I was in line behind 20 million Malagasies (ok, not really b/c that’s the population of the whole country.  ßFact ingeniously disguised as a sarcastic remarkJ).  But all these Malagasies who just got off a flight from Mauritius were in front of me and I seriously was understanding the Visa man better than they were.   They didn’t know how to fill out their forms, or hadn’t already, so the guy was like “Fill out your address!” (and they looked all befuddled b/c they’d already written the town they were from – see what I mean about the addresses?!).  So finally after waiting in line for a while, I gave the dude my passport and receipt and he worked on it and then instead of giving it back to me passed it along.  So I stood in line some more while a pile of passports accumulated and eventually some other, bigger dude looked through them one by one, called each person by name, visually identified them, and then signed the Visa-stamp-thing, which I discovered, upon receiving it, was completely illegible and probably totally forgeable.  Psh.

Eventually found my bag (which is always a relief, b/c you never know when itsgonna get lost en route to Madagascar), and went through customs, which I’ve always found curious (even in America).  There are two lines “Goods to declare” and “Nothing to declare”. Why would you ever choose the “goods to declare” line?  If you have something that’s illegal, you’re not going to turn it over to the police.  And if you don’t know, why risk the hassle? And if you don’t have anything that you think is of risk, then obvs you’re gonna pick the other line.  I honestly don’t think I had/have anything contraband so I chose the other line. And they just wave you right through like you’re walking into Disneyland.  (Actually, Disneyland probably has way more security, almost certainly). I mean in America there are dogs to sniff stuff out, but even that isn’t much. 

Story time!

So as I’m about to walk past security again, I notice the police man who checks your passports. And I’m like 99% sure I know him.  After looking at him for a second longer I can actually remember his name.  But he speaks first:

“Hey I think I know you.”
“Yeah, your name is Eric right?”
“Yeah it is! Are you still a missionary?”
“No, I’m just a regular member now.  You used to live in Ambohibarikely, right? Do you still live there?”
“No they transferred me here.  There’s housing for police families just down the road.”
“Oh cool! I’ll try and visit some time” (sincerely, but fairly improbable).

So there you have it, a guy I taught nearly FOURyears ago during the first month or two of my mission still remembers me and recognizes me (40 pounds heavier, 4 years older, and with facial hair – I hadn’t shaved since I left America).  Cool, huh?  Good job Secrist!

 So I finally found Barege in the crowd! He and his wife helped me out to his car (and some random dude carried my suitcase, which is always a trixy way of them trying to get you to give them money.  So I gave him a dollar bill which is about 2/3 of a day’s worth of minimum wage.  I wouldn’t resent them so much if they actually ASKED people if they wanted their bags carried first and then expected payment.  But no, they just come up and snatch your bags and then you have to chase them down and have them give you your bags back before they get to your car, but they’re usually pretty quick so by the time you protest you’re already at your car and the deed is done and then they go all “See! Look what I did for you! Now please give me money *puppy face*” Bah. Whatevs.

So then Barege and his wife drove me to Dominique’s house in Anjanahary.  And I couldn’t keep from grinning again.  Just like little cameos of Malagasy life that are so familiar to me now.  Nothing terribly remarkable or even pleasant in and of themselves, but they’re like home to me.  Smell of gasoline and car exhaust.  People dashing across the street.Guys trying to sell you sunglasses through the car window.Trafffffffffic.Kids playing on the sidewalk.People carrying stuff on their heads.  People lined up to buy water from a community pump.  I could go on…

We finally got to the house an hour later or so.  Yay!  Lea, the maid lady, let us in! I moved my stuff inside, gave Barege the iPads I brought for them (him and the Stake Pres, Barege is the 1^st counselor) and some chocolate I bought as a thank-you gift and they were off.  I unpacked some, took a shower WITH HOT WATER HOLY HALELUJAH! Then Lea gave me probably oh… 23,756 keys.  Jk, but there’s one for the gate, and one for the door to the house, and one for the door to my room.  And I already had 3 keys for my luggage and backpacks. And then she showed me how to bolt the front door – 1 dead bolt, and 2 giant metal bars that slide into place at night.  Seriously like living in a castle.  I gave her some of my clothes to wash for church on Sunday (the next day), and off I went to find a phone and such.

Bought a phone downtown, then went and got some pizza at Pizza Express which missionaries used to visit a lot ‘back in my day’, but seemed kind of run down and sad-face this time.  The pizza was decent but not as good as I remember, and I swear they replaced their nice new computers with junky old ones, with REALLY slow internet.  Oh don’t even get me started on internet and computers in Madagascar.  I’ll write 4 more pages haha.

Afterwards, I walked through Tsaralalana on my way to the Sakamanga hotel, where I tried to make reservations for our group coming in July.  Tsaralalana is known for having hookers at night (and by at night I mean after 6pm, b/c that’s when it gets dark in Madagascar in the winter which is now).  So I just kind of briskly walked through this intersection (the hotel is a few blocks away in a much nicer part of downtown) and I heard some … person… kind of cat-call me.  Best way to describe it is as a cat hiss.  So as I walked (and the ‘come-over-here’ hissing continued) I debated about whether to continue ignoring it or to turn around and quite publicly tell this would-be skanky-lady off.  At this point it said (yes, it) said “Cherie!” (which means like darling or sweety in French), but I’m 95% sure it was a man’s voice, but a falsetto man’s voice.  So I kind of doubled my speed and crossed to the other side of the street and turned the corner.  Addison: 1. Transgender Hooker Person: 0. J

Sakamanga hotel was kind of a fail b/c they didn’t haven the rooms we needed available for all of the nights we needed them, and they wanted a reservation by paying now and then refunding the money if we cancel.  Which is meh.  Finished there, avoided hookerland, and went and emailed some more to take care of some things I forgot, and about the hotels. 

Went to see if Shoprite (grocery store chain from South Africa) was open.Silly me.  It was 8pm.  Store closed at 730.  What did I think this was, America?

So I got a taxi and went home.

I talked to the APs for a bit getting information about how to get to the Sabotsy-Namehana church so I could surprise Elder Marsh (who I taught at the MTC and just got to Madagascar on Wednesday) and E. Bergera who I taught 4 or 6 months ago. 

The End.  First Day Back in Madagscar: Mostly Successful.