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.