Written March 2, 2009
I’ll admit, I flipped the switch too early. Sometime during that bumpy, dusty, overnight truck ride, my imagination betrayed me.
Under normal conditions, it takes 11 hours to get from Fianar from Ikongo. That night it took 16, so I had plenty of time to explore all the implications of the inevitable hypothesis of what if this is goodbye? By the time we got to Fianar, I’d worked out so many contingencies, wrapped my head so tightly around the idea of evacuation that I forgot to leave room for any other eventuality.
And who can blame me? Who doesn’t want that narrative? I, a worker for peace, had to be dragged across a tarmac and into a plane while the country self-destructed around me! Who doesn’t want to step out of Reagan National Airport in the middle of February shod in flip flops, unshaven and jacketless because… well, dammit, that’s all the time there was!
So, you understand, during those three weeks of excruciating uncertainty and mind-rattling ambiguity, my stomach tweaked itself a notch tighter every time it looked like my life might not be as exciting as I had imagined. Going back to my village of Ambolomadinika became inconceivable.
I was afraid it’d be weird. That things would be intrinsicially different now that the fragile nature of the relationships I’d built had been laid bare. Afraid that they’d resent me for being a needle drop away (get it? Because Andry is a former disc j—ah, forget it) from writing the whole thing off as an aborted vacation. Afraid that all my half-baked projects would fall apart. They probably will anyhow, but this at least would have given me a scapegoat.
But here’s the punchline, O Patient Reader: Nothing has changed. If anything, things have gotten better. I feel much less obligated to put up with people who only see me as a walking sack of money. Mind you, there are still annoyances. The madness caused by too much time in your head, the stark differences in expectations, the day to day cultural subtleties I’m sure to never truly grasp. They’re all still there. But these annoyances are part of a routine deep enough to swim in and solid enough to stand on. They are family.
Like too many of us, I’ve been to the edge of life-altering moments before and experienced the pre-emptive (perhaps artificial?) hindsight that refocuses and revitalizes the old reality. It’s happened often enough that I reluctantly acknowledge that this new frame of reference will relax into the old. The head time, expectations and culture will likely prevail, and soon enough I’ll be back to staining the pages of my journal blue with ball-point fury. At least until experience and time bring genuine hindsight. The principle behind every Peace Corps service is the hope that this happens before you become an RPCV.
I found this in one of the notebooks I packed out of Madagascar. I wrote it the interim between consolidation and evacuation. I'd intended to upload it during my next trip to Fianar.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Stuck inside of Mali with the Madagascar blues again
[Written 14th May, 2009.]
First, the bad news. Peace Corps has suspended their program in Madagascar. As a result, my service there has come to an end. In Peace Corps' official jargon, I completed my service, but really there's very little about it that feels complete. If you really want a sense of this, I direct you to blog posts by friends and other volunteers. For now, I'd rather focus on the more practical consequences for you, the hypothetical reader of this blog.
First, I can no longer punt the responsibility of regular updates to other volunteers via the group blog, so I'll be posting here for the time being. Second, I've moved to Mali to continue my peace corps experience. Again, "continue" seems like the wrong word, since I'll be starting over in a new country, new climate, new culture and new language. Certain adjustments have been easier to re-do, others have brought unexpected surprises. We'll explore that cubist Venn diagram in due time.
But before we move on to Mali, I need to make one last plug for Madagascar. I need to point out that though the gunshots have quieted and news coverage has thinned out (was it ever thick?) the political crisis isn't over. Recently, USAID has told the non-profits it funds to discontinue their work with any government agencies. These include institutions like schools, community health centers and local mayors - often key stakeholders that help development projects reach the rural poor.
Let's be clear about something. Life in rural Madagascar doesn't change much from day-to-day, much less president-to-president. In fact, it sucks rather consistently. Additionally, the national government is pretty low on the list of organizations with the capacity to change that. So it pains me when the international community tries to punish an illegitimate government but ends up hurting the people who are largely (and rightly, mind you!) indifferent to that government.
I don't blame USAID or other international organizations like the African Union or SADC for taking these types of actions. It's important to send signals that make it clear that military coups are unacceptable and they also have limited means to do so.
But these NGO's must continue to function and operate, with or without international funding. For example, the NGO I worked with, Ny Tanintsika, continues to build capacity and supports rural villages as they become communities that can help themselves. It's supported by a razor-sharp Malagasy staff and coordinated by a British woman who has lived in the country for 10 years and shows no sign of leaving. If you are so inclined, their donations page is a great way to keep the Malagasy government irrelevant in all the right ways.
First, the bad news. Peace Corps has suspended their program in Madagascar. As a result, my service there has come to an end. In Peace Corps' official jargon, I completed my service, but really there's very little about it that feels complete. If you really want a sense of this, I direct you to blog posts by friends and other volunteers. For now, I'd rather focus on the more practical consequences for you, the hypothetical reader of this blog.
First, I can no longer punt the responsibility of regular updates to other volunteers via the group blog, so I'll be posting here for the time being. Second, I've moved to Mali to continue my peace corps experience. Again, "continue" seems like the wrong word, since I'll be starting over in a new country, new climate, new culture and new language. Certain adjustments have been easier to re-do, others have brought unexpected surprises. We'll explore that cubist Venn diagram in due time.
But before we move on to Mali, I need to make one last plug for Madagascar. I need to point out that though the gunshots have quieted and news coverage has thinned out (was it ever thick?) the political crisis isn't over. Recently, USAID has told the non-profits it funds to discontinue their work with any government agencies. These include institutions like schools, community health centers and local mayors - often key stakeholders that help development projects reach the rural poor.
Let's be clear about something. Life in rural Madagascar doesn't change much from day-to-day, much less president-to-president. In fact, it sucks rather consistently. Additionally, the national government is pretty low on the list of organizations with the capacity to change that. So it pains me when the international community tries to punish an illegitimate government but ends up hurting the people who are largely (and rightly, mind you!) indifferent to that government.
I don't blame USAID or other international organizations like the African Union or SADC for taking these types of actions. It's important to send signals that make it clear that military coups are unacceptable and they also have limited means to do so.
But these NGO's must continue to function and operate, with or without international funding. For example, the NGO I worked with, Ny Tanintsika, continues to build capacity and supports rural villages as they become communities that can help themselves. It's supported by a razor-sharp Malagasy staff and coordinated by a British woman who has lived in the country for 10 years and shows no sign of leaving. If you are so inclined, their donations page is a great way to keep the Malagasy government irrelevant in all the right ways.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Moving to Dagu Diaries
We finally got the group blog rolling, so I'm going to be posting to that from now on. The idea is that it will be updated less erratically than this blog, and also provide a wider range of experiences from a very diverse country. See you there!
Friday, April 25, 2008
Lost in the Grass
We've now left our community-based training, and are tying up a few loose ends in the capital before heading out to our respective sites.
I can't say much other than the experience has so far been wonderful. I had a great host family and our training class is full of incredible people. I will have more to say about my site in the near future, and Peace Corps forbids I mention it by name, but it's also very fascinating. Stereotypically remote, it takes 3 days of travel from the capitalm by bush taxi and train - before I get to the 12km hike/bike (interrupted halfway by a short canoe ride) to my village.
The other news is I'll be delivering a speech in Malagasy on behalf of our class at the swearing-in ceremony on Tuesday. The Malagasy culture requires 2/3 of your speech be devoted to appologizing to the audience for speaking in front of them. Luckily, my language instructor helped me litter it with amusing proverbs to keep it interesting. Among them, "Let us not be like the wild boar who, when he visits his father-in-law, is pointed at by his host's lips and then carries his head on his shoulders. Instead, let us be like the little red bird, who whistles at the big brown bird when he visits, and the host sings in turn." The audience in this case, unfortunately, is anyone who happens to be tuned into the Malagasy equivalent of NPR or C-Span. Not a huge deal, but really? Lip pointing? We'll see how it goes over...
But to paraphrase another Malagasy proverb - if the grass is long, the pig is lost and if the blog post is long, the point is lost.
Miss you all!
I can't say much other than the experience has so far been wonderful. I had a great host family and our training class is full of incredible people. I will have more to say about my site in the near future, and Peace Corps forbids I mention it by name, but it's also very fascinating. Stereotypically remote, it takes 3 days of travel from the capitalm by bush taxi and train - before I get to the 12km hike/bike (interrupted halfway by a short canoe ride) to my village.
The other news is I'll be delivering a speech in Malagasy on behalf of our class at the swearing-in ceremony on Tuesday. The Malagasy culture requires 2/3 of your speech be devoted to appologizing to the audience for speaking in front of them. Luckily, my language instructor helped me litter it with amusing proverbs to keep it interesting. Among them, "Let us not be like the wild boar who, when he visits his father-in-law, is pointed at by his host's lips and then carries his head on his shoulders. Instead, let us be like the little red bird, who whistles at the big brown bird when he visits, and the host sings in turn." The audience in this case, unfortunately, is anyone who happens to be tuned into the Malagasy equivalent of NPR or C-Span. Not a huge deal, but really? Lip pointing? We'll see how it goes over...
But to paraphrase another Malagasy proverb - if the grass is long, the pig is lost and if the blog post is long, the point is lost.
Miss you all!
Friday, January 25, 2008
It's not you. It's me.
Boy, this is awkward.
I have no right to be here, and I know that. I left so suddenly. I didn't even leave a note explaining why I had to leave or where I was going.
But you know I'm no good at apologies, so I'll just skip it if that's alright with you.
Anyways, I'm sorry I left. Just give me another shot. It'll be just like old times.
Well, it might be a little different.
I have no right to be here, and I know that. I left so suddenly. I didn't even leave a note explaining why I had to leave or where I was going.
But you know I'm no good at apologies, so I'll just skip it if that's alright with you.
Anyways, I'm sorry I left. Just give me another shot. It'll be just like old times.
Well, it might be a little different.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Silly things
These artists seem to be pursuing wealth and fame using the business model pioneered by Alex Tew at the million dollar homepage.
First, there's onethousandpaintings.com, where Swiss artist Sala is selling "unique" paintings of every integer (not number, as she says. I have to nitpick) from 1 to 1000. She calls them unique because each is a different number and she doesn't make copies. I put it in quotes because each uses the same font/color scheme. In her words:
Next up, via a link on her own site, is theblackcubes.com which is slightly more pretentious. Again, from the site:
The current price is $85.50 USD.
In both of these cases, no matter how lofty their rhetoric, their greed gets in the way of the message they're supposedly conveying. In the first case, it's obvious that the number is the art is the limit, but is not the price. The $40 minimum interferes with the idea. Not to mention she's trying to buy back popular numbers and sell them again at a profit.
I'm less clear about the black cubes. I feel that their increasing value over time conflicts with my idea of "human curiosity." I don't see how uncertainty adds value to itself over time.I suppose if I buy a pack of baseball cards in 1989 and don't open it, I will be able to sell it at a higher price today. But in that case, it's what the pack contains that gives it value, not the curiosity of the owner. Yes, those 20 cards would be worth less if not in a factory sealed pack. But consider this. If you burgled a house and found a sealed envelope with "20 mint-condition 1989 baseball cards" written on the outside. Would you be able to sell this for more or less money than the sealed pack? Decidedly not. Which would you be more likely to tear open? Probably the envelope. To me, this says that the extra information implied by factory sealed package (they are baseball cards, they are from 1989, they are more likely in mint condition) increases the price. In other words, more information, higher price, but less curiosity.
I guess I can go on as long as I want about hype, artificial demand and over-priced, pretentious art, but they're selling Why does seem that collective action never works the way I want it to?
First, there's onethousandpaintings.com, where Swiss artist Sala is selling "unique" paintings of every integer (not number, as she says. I have to nitpick) from 1 to 1000. She calls them unique because each is a different number and she doesn't make copies. I put it in quotes because each uses the same font/color scheme. In her words:
One number, one painting - the number is the art is the limit is the price. Each of the one thousand paintings is unique, showing a number between 1 and 1000. This is an experiment of art and mathematics, on the web, the first of its kind.She later mentions the minimum price is $40, plus $20-30 shipping.
The value of each painting is defined by its number (value = 1000 - number). The earlier you buy, the more you save.
Next up, via a link on her own site, is theblackcubes.com which is slightly more pretentious. Again, from the site:
I'm making 999 wooden black cubes. Every cube has the same shape, appearence and dimensions (every facet is 20 cm.). The strange thing is that there is something inside the cube!. But nobody can take possession of its real sense, because if the cube is opened this sense is lost irreparably. The cube is the material representation of human curiosity.
[...]
There is a reason for the number of the cubes, 999. If i sell a good number you will know it
- What is it inside the cubes? I can only say that there is something different for every cube, that make your cube unique;
- You can't get its sense if the cube is opened (that means breaking it).
- Every cube is a part of an unique project
- DON'T OPEN IT!!
- Something else will happen to my project some day (when i have sold all cubes)
The price of the cubes is determined by the number of sold cubes; every cube sold the price will increase of 0.50 USD. If you buy now you save your money!
The current price is $85.50 USD.
In both of these cases, no matter how lofty their rhetoric, their greed gets in the way of the message they're supposedly conveying. In the first case, it's obvious that the number is the art is the limit, but is not the price. The $40 minimum interferes with the idea. Not to mention she's trying to buy back popular numbers and sell them again at a profit.
I'm less clear about the black cubes. I feel that their increasing value over time conflicts with my idea of "human curiosity." I don't see how uncertainty adds value to itself over time.I suppose if I buy a pack of baseball cards in 1989 and don't open it, I will be able to sell it at a higher price today. But in that case, it's what the pack contains that gives it value, not the curiosity of the owner. Yes, those 20 cards would be worth less if not in a factory sealed pack. But consider this. If you burgled a house and found a sealed envelope with "20 mint-condition 1989 baseball cards" written on the outside. Would you be able to sell this for more or less money than the sealed pack? Decidedly not. Which would you be more likely to tear open? Probably the envelope. To me, this says that the extra information implied by factory sealed package (they are baseball cards, they are from 1989, they are more likely in mint condition) increases the price. In other words, more information, higher price, but less curiosity.
I guess I can go on as long as I want about hype, artificial demand and over-priced, pretentious art, but they're selling Why does seem that collective action never works the way I want it to?
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Suddenly, Everything has Changed
All kinds of good news. The graft went on as scheduled, and now all I have to do is get myself healed. I have extra incentive now, as I found out I got accepted by Michigan Tech to start January 15th. So I'll have a lot to do between now and then. Needless to say, worrying about packing, finding an apartment, or registering classes now seems like a luxury. What's more, the doctor said my prognosis was excellent and that the chances of the cancer recurring are very slight and he'd personally make certain the Peace Corps understands exactly that. So it's just up to me to make sure the second interview goes well. Five weeks ago, my plans seemed to be falling through. Lucky for me, they managed to fall right into place.
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