New Address

Teena Curry (Taylor Rutledge)
BP 35
Amparafaravola 504
Madagascar

9/21/10 CRAZY BUSY, BUT IM NOW A PCV

Here are some pics: 1) Jason with our freshly killed chicken in our olympic competition at the end of PST. 2) Me with Robert, the Training Manager in Mantasoa during our thank you community. Please note the beautiful tie. 3)Me with my host family during our thank you community. This picture is absolutely great, they look both painfully unhappy as well as tiny.
4) Jason and I enjoying Mofo during a language break.
So today was my swearing in ceremony. Yes I am now a Peace Corps Volunteer. Today is crazy busy with swearing in during the morning then the afternoon is filled with trying to get bank stuff set up and buy things in Tana for my house that I won’t be able to get in the sticks. I’ve added some pictures up here from the end of PST and thank you community. I promise to elaborate on what all happened today and my first week or two at site in the near future. I’ve added two other blogs about PST wrapping up so please enjoy.

9/20/10 End of PST

If it hadn’t been real before, it certainly is becoming real now. I am no longer a Peace Corps Trainee, but now I am a Peace Corps Volunteer. This blog entry is meant to sorta clarify what has been happening with the training stage and now my transition to volunteerness and saving the world. Ok, so, about 9 weeks ago I got to small town of Mantasoa with 41 other trainees, we all went to live with our Malagasy home stays, then 6 days a week we would have language/culture/technical training in small groups from 8am to 4:30pm , be home by 5:30pm help with dinner, speak Malagasy with the family, likely be asleep by 8:30pm, wake up to some form of pestering livestock around 5:30am and repeat the process. In the last few weeks the health trainees (as we never saw the education trainees anymore as we became specialized) have been giving weekly presentations in Malagasy on Friday mornings in the stead of language class. Each week you are given a few health topics that you can choose to talk about. 3 weeks ago it was a simple 5 minute presentation to the LCFs (language instructors) and other Health PCTs where I spoke about Malaria prevention. 2 weeks ago I had to give a 15 minute presentation in front of all the host families where I chose to discuss getting vaccines for newborns. 1 Week ago was the biggie. In groups of two, I had to give 2 one-hour long presentations to school classrooms. One presentation was to the oldest class- Terminal (the kids are about my age) about STI prevention and birth control/family planning. The second hour long presentation was to the 5eme class (maybe 12-14 year olds) where we discussed various aspects of hygiene. Then this week was more relaxed for the presentation, I had to give a 15 minute presentation to any group in the Mantasoa community about subject of my choice. I just had my host mom come alongside other women in the community (imagine a sewing club, but instead of sewing they all work the rice fields together, and instead of doing it for leisure, it’s a form of income). But you get my drift, a bunch of women from 40 to 50 who gossip and act like a Delta Delta Delta Sorority. So theyre a group of loudmouths, and I thought it would be a great audience to talk about AIDS towards, cause they would tell EVERYONE about it in their gossiping nature. Well, in typical Malagasy culture, they didn’t show up on time and missed my whole presentation. So that wasn’t a big hit and didn’t make any real strides in educating people that AIDS is real. (which a huge amount of the population doesn’t believe….).
So that’s been my presentation stuff. The presentation this week was pretty small, because the following day we all had our final language assessments. Wednesday morning I had a 20 minute recorded conversation with a Peace Corps tester in Malagasy about my life, their life, plans during/after Peace Corps, food/cooking, family, you name it. The interview concludes when you randomly pick a card that has a scenario which you must act out in Malagasy. Mine was (paraphrased): “you had purchased an item for your moms birthday last week, but you realized that your sister had bought the same thing. Explain to the seller the problem and return the item”. So I had my conversation and then all the staff has to evaluate your language skills as they all listen to your recorded conversation, making you wait for a day to figure out if you passed. To be able to pass and get to site/become a PCV I had to get language skills at “intermediate high” the requirements for health volunteers, where the education volunteers only need to get “intermediate mid” as they teach in English. So I finally heard the news that I tested at Intermediate high, which means that I passed and get to site, but I was a bit bummed as I was trying to get the next step above or “advanced low”, but it didn’t happen. Oh well, I passed. That’s not the case for all the pct’s who will have to stay at training a bit more.
The following day was my last with my host family in Andrefany Poste. Despite me not getting sufficient food and not having a lick in common with Marthe, Eugeune, Boda, Celestine, and What’s his name? (I really disliked the middle bro who was there once every two weeks, and by the time found out he was part of my family I had a week left with the fam). The mom was really the only glimpse of good in the family. She really kept that family running without getting any praise. When I helped do the dishes for the first time the bros were in disbelief. And the dad refused to wash clothes. Ladies beware: Madagascar isn’t too progressive, ie: it is law that wives are 9th in the list of a husband’s will behind their brothers, sons, cousins, golf buddies, bartender, and 2nd grade cubby buddy. Back to my host family, my mom did quite a bit for me and towards the end of my stay we started to talk quite a bit everyday. During my last night I had gotten them some gifts and unbeknownst to me, she also gave me a gift of a HUGE tablecloth she made for me. It was a great joke to them when I explained that I couldn’t fit a table that big in my room as it would be bigger than my house. I know that’s really not funny at all, but coming from a monster white guy speaking Malagasy in the sticks of Madagascar, it doesn’t take much to be a comic genius. I had gotten the family a decent flashlight as they were always in awe of mine, as well as toothbrushes for everyone in the family, giving me another great chance to make a psa to them about hygiene. However, that only reaffirmed to them that I am a doctor. I say that because it was a weekly dinner conversation that I was and whatever health ailments the family had, I knew the quick cure, and me CONSTANTLY explaining I don’t have an MD. So there you have it, considering I’m a recluse, I think my brothers were in a gang, and I didn’t have the slightest thing similar to these people, I think I may miss their company.

Frustration and ramblings

Madagascar. Here we are. I’ve been here for right around 2 months. When I type that it’s hard to believe. It feels like its been a year. 60 Days of foreignness and rice overload. I could have won survivor by now. Actually, I could have won survivor 2 times over. That means I could have won 2 million dollars. Nope, instead I’m banking 4 dollars a day. God. All of these blogs sound really bitter. I’m happier than I let on. I think so at least. I’m really curious as to what my real emotions and thoughts about all of this are opposed to thinking what I should be thinking. You keep telling yourself that “its worth it”, and “this is a great opportunity to grow” and “be selfless for 2 years”. You tell yourself for all of the days you are harsh or cynical on these people and culture and you just want to shrivel up in your limited American bubble that you have days where I am taken back in its beauty and uniqueness. But not today. Just lots of frustration. Frustration at my language skills, frustration at Malagasy and their innerving culture. These 2 years I’m embarking on are the longest time I have been removed from the States by a long-shot. I’m far from a world traveler, but prior to this I spent 5 months in Europe away from the greatness that is America, and being away from home changes you. Before studying in Europe I had never considered myself particularly American. But then you leave and realize the extensive amount of freedoms and abilities you have Stateside and you become patriotic. Yes there are more than ample problems with the States like American Idol, an unhealthy fixation towards Hollywood, rednecks, Wal-Mart, overconsumption with….well….. everything, and still present gender/race inequality, but wow I love America. Wow I miss America. I don’t say it simply because of the conveniences stateside of public bathrooms, free refills and chipotle, all of which are great things. I say it because in America there’s education for everyone, Water Treatment facilities, trash disposal, roads that allow you to be anywhere you want in an instant, and oh yea… food. None of those seemingly simple things are guaranteed in Madagascar. An advanced septic system here is a hole dug in the ground that will act as your toilet for three years opposed to two. Trash disposal? Hahaha, oh you naïve American. Either throw your trash to the side of the dirt road or burn it. Lastly, food. Yea, don’t envision some tropical island oasis westernized with PF Chang’s and Cheesecake factory. Madagascar does have some incredible food resources. However, they don’t have packaging or refrigeration outside of big cities. That means in December (summer here) you can pick off the trees as many mangoes as you would like, but there are several other months that are part of the Hunger season. I really question how much of what I say in this blog can be understood or grasped when read from a computer screen in the states. But really, think about that when you go to the grocery store. There may be months at a time where the only thing to be found at the market is rice. The hunger season in the states for me had always been the two days before grocery day when I had polished off the Oreo’s. America, we’ve got it pretty cush.
I was talking to another PCT about this and about how great America is, and they we’re less positive about America than I was, and I was trying to understand why they don’t share the same pride. What we essentially came up with is that our Americas are very different. Lets face it, I’ve had it REAL easy. I’m from a decently well off white family in Apple Pie Ohio. What could I potentially complain about? Not too much. Eating all of those Oreos before grocery day was probably one of my 5 biggest issues in the States, behind: 1) cruise control not working in my car, resulting in me having to have my foot on the gas pedal at ALL times on the highway, 2) Ironing button-down shirts, 3) Missing the 30 Rock season premiere, and 4) mistakenly buying orange juice WITH pulp. I know not all lives in the States are hunky dory, and I’m slightly over the top in my description of my life in the States, but I still have a difficult time being optimistic about the state of Madagascar in comparison to America. But that American affinity is coming from a white male perspective. If you haven’t figured it out yet, that’s not the most common/and or most liked demographic in Madagascar. Why? Because when I am seen, Malagasy instantly assume I’m one of the countless Frenchies who abuse Madagascar and the Malagasy people as an entertainment park post-colonization. Time for me to attempt to break that assumption. I’ve left a country where I’m the privileged majority, and I’m now in a land where I am negatively perceived at first glance. Yea, it makes pretty good sense that I would miss America now and be bitter about Madagascar. Oh Yea, now it’s clear why I am frusterated. Well, I didn’t expect it to be easy. Lets do this Madagascar, we’ve got 2 years together.

P.S. Kudos to you if you were able to read and understand this blog in any form of cohesiveness. I don’t know if it’s a talent or a flaw that this reads as if it were written in stream of consciousness form, but let me give my most sincere apologies.