Madagascar's Education System

Imagine you are back in high school. Let's say you are in your third
year of Spanish and have already learned quite a bit. But about a
third of the students in your class are, because of bad teachers or a
lack of effort or both, essentially beginners. They have had two years
of Spanish already, and received failing grades both times, but they
were passed anyway. While it sounds like something out of a dystopian
novel, this is reality in Madagascar's education system.

I teach seconde (10th grade) level English, which is students' fifth
year of the language, yet the vast majority of my students are at a
beginner's level. This causes numerous problems for me in the
classroom.

First, it holds down the rest of the class, who might have benefited
from more of a challenge but will not get it because of how many
students already fail when classes are easy. Second, it makes teaching
the required material from the curriculum very difficult. Teaching the
most basic grammar points is made tedious by the lengthy explanations
and definitions required to get one's point across to the low level
students. Third, adequate help cannot be given to struggling students,
even the most dilligent and motivated ones, because it would put the
rest of the class behind. Students take common exams by grade level
and must also be adequately prepared for their baccalaureate exams at
the end of lycee (high school), so falling behind is not an option.

As I alluded to, a part of the problem is teachers, who are generally
not very good (especially at the CEG [middle school] level, and
especially in rural areas). And part of the problem is a lack of time,
as students receive just two to four hours of instruction per week,
depending on their school (most get three). Resources are also
non-existent, of course, and the national English curriculum is poorly
written, ineffective and irrelevant to students' lives, not to mention
the fact that it has not been updated since 1996!

But in my view, the education system as a whole is the main culprit.
Madagascar was a French colony, so its education system was "given" to
it by the French. I can't speak to the state of the French education
system today, nor in 1960 when Madagascar became independant, for that
matter. So I can't really say what is the same here and in France and
what is different. But I do know that here, the entire system
essentially has not changed since independance.

As if missing out on decades of improvements in educational philosophy
and teaching methods wasn't bad enough, the education system given to
Madagascar by the French has allowed the wide range in proficiency
found in Malagasy classrooms. For those who are unfamiliar with it,
here is a brief overview:

Students at the CEG and lycee levels (middle and high school) remain
with the same group of students (their class) for all subjects. Every
term, they receive grades for each class out of 20, with 10 considered
a passing grade (This remains a part of the French system, where exams
are written to be very difficult.). An overall average of 10 or
better at the end of the year lets a student go on to the next level.

And here is where the problems really begin. A student could easily
get a 5 out of 20 in English and go on to the next grade level. And in
that next level, they take the next level of English (as well as every
other subject), since they remain with the same group of students for
each subject. It is in this way that students can fail a subject year
after year and continue to move on without a problem. They are not
very motivated to learn English as it is, and since a failing grade is
averaged into the rest of their grades, they have almost no
consequences for getting one.

This passing of failing students has to be one of the great problems
with Madagascar's education system. Unfortunately, the colonial
mentality still present here prevents Malagasy people from effecting
meaningful change in the structures left to them by the French
(basically, if the French told us to do it, it must be good, since
they are a developed country).

The current education system is not good for Madagascar or its
students. The American system of having different groups of students
for each subject, regardless of grade level, would be so much more
effective here. Students would be more motivated to pass each class
since failing would mean retaking it the following year. And since
classes would be grouped according to student proficiency rather than
grade level, teachers would be able to give students of all levels
they help they need. Since failing students would be kept behind,
achieving students could get the challenges they need to improve in
regular classes, while failing students would have a chance to relearn
the material and get more detailed explanations.

Oh, and this isn't even considering the fact that English might not be
for all students. All Malagasy students are required to take French
and English (the latter beginning in sixieme [sith grade]), and some
end up taking Spanish or German as well. Yet students in American high
schools choose one foreign language to take at a time, not two or
three, and those who meet minimum requirements and wish to stop do so.
But here, even students on the non-humanities tracks must take English
through the end of lycee (high school). Obviously, motivating them is
even harder.

I can't imagine the situation here improving much without radical
changes to the education system as a whole. And such changes need not
be overwhelming. The current system could be phased out in stages, or
current students could be grandfathered in. Malagasy people are the
ones with the most at stake, so they are the ones who would best be
able to figure out such solutions. But the impetus for change must
come first, and I can't imagine that coming for a long time. Yet the
idealist and optimist that I am, I'll hold out hope that Madagascar
soon gets a new set of leaders who will break with the past and get
the country onto a path of reform and development. Hoping, but not
holding my breath either.#End

Is Cheating Malagasy Fomba?

We've just wrapped up exam week here at the lycee in Ambato, and sitting in a classroom for hours at a time trying to prevent cheating reminded me of something that happened while I was training the most recent group of volunteers here in Madagascar. I was leading a session on testing, and said that cheating is so bad here that it is a part of Malagasy fomba (culture or custom). The Malagasy Peace Corps staff member in the room vehemently disagreed, but I maintained my position. However, months on, I started wondering whether I was too harsh in my judgment.

To be sure, cheating is rampant here. About a fifth of the assignments turned in by one of my classes were identical to another one, and several others clearly plagarized theirs from outside sources. Despite being interspersed with students from different levels for exam week, five students sitting near each other came up with the same response for an example of an apology ("I am sorry I am forget you"). And my fellow English teaching Peace Corps Volunteers have much more glaring examples of this behavior.

To make matters worse, teachers don't seem to be as concerned about cheating as one might expect. Some exam proctors will leave the room unattended for a period of time, or simply not watch carefully to prevent cheating. Judging by the lack of effort of students to alter copied responses, I don't imagine many teachers here catch plagarism after the fact by comparing responses. (I should add that teachers at my school are overworked and underpaid.) All in all, there is what we would call in the US a "culture of cheating" in the schools of Madagascar.

Of course, cheating remains a problem in the Western world as well. Two German ministers have resigned in as many years after it was revealed that they plagarized their doctoral dissertations. News reports might warn us of a "cheating crisis" in American schools. But in the US, students overwhelmingly do not cheat, even when given the opportunity. (Those who disagree have not seen a Malagasy classroom.) Why is there such a difference? I have a couple of theories.

For one, the consequences of cheating are much greater in the US. Here in Madagascar, it is common for students to receive a simple point deduction for cheating in the rare case they are caught and punished. In the US, a zero grade on the assignment is generally the minumum acceptable punishment.

Second, individual achievement is valued much more in the US at large, whereas groups of people are almost always involved in doing work or solving problems in Madagascar. Bush taxi broke down? Expect at least two of your fellow passengers to get out and help fix it, even if all they do is watch and offer unhelpful advice. The group work phenomenon is so prevalent here that its seepage into the classroom on exam day is inevitable, with the upshot that Malagasy people are not learning to solve problems on their own. Coupled with a severe deficit in critical thinking skills, this has an extremely detrimental effect on Madagascar's intellectual capital.

So is cheating Malagasy fomba? Malagasy culture? While culture is important, focusing on it at the expense of looking at society as a whole leaves out a big part of the picture. Something may be inacceptable according to Malagasy culture, yet be just as widespread as rice is in Malagasy society. So if we use "culture" as our definition of fomba, it's quite possible that Malagasy fomba does not condone cheating. But if we consider fomba to be the general practices or customs of people within society, cheating is certainly a part of Malagasy fomba.

What does this mean for Madagascar? For one, the culture of cheating, whether or not it is a part of Malgasy culture, needs to be eliminated. This means stricter punishments, better enforcement, and most of all, a change in attitudes towards cheating. Children need to be taught to be ashamed of cheating and strive to be as honest in academics as they are in the rest of their lives.

But also, Malagasy people need to examine their culture, society, and fomba, and begin changing or leaving behind the parts that are detrimental to their development as individuals and as a country. I could have just as easily written this post about another problem that needs to be addressed here, such as alcoholism. And ultimately, it is up to Malagasy people themselves to solve such problems, though I hope that the rest of us can help out along the way. I know my fellow PCVs and I are doing our best. #End

New Volunteers!

This is a post for new PCVs coming in July.

First of all, congrats on getting Madagascar! This is a great country to be a PCV in (and just in general). We're all anxiously awaiting your arrival! Here is a non-comprehensive packing list based on my experience through 10 months in-country. Check out some of the older packing lists on other blogs for more ideas!

Computer- Essential. Also, make sure it is in decent working order as Africa tends to be a place where computers die. Shouldn't be too big because you will be carrying it with you inside crowded taxi-brousses. Battery life isn't as important for Ed PCVs since you will almost all have electricity.

Hard drive- Not the kind that needs to be plugged in to work. And the bigger the memory the better. Would be great if it's pre-filled with new/good movies, TV shows, and music if possible! (Thanks in advance). We have some of the more popular TV shows out now, plus a lot of popular movies of the past couple of decades here. So you can get those from us when you get here :) But yeah, good new music would be really awesome.

Flash Drive- One or two with a couple of gigs of memory is sufficient.

Kindle- Wish I brought one, so am having my parents bring me one when they visit. There are a ton of kindle files on hard drives here, and you won't want to read them on your computer screen.

Shortwave Radio- I have electricity and decent internet from my house, but still love listening to the BBC every day. Get a decent one (mine is a Tecsun brand and works great).

MP3 Player- Clutch for long taxi-brousse rides. Ones that block out a lot of outside noise are much preferred.

Digital Camera- Whatever kind you prefer. Many PCVs have SLRs, so bring one if you're really into photography.

Pillow- Any but the rock hard ones in the spare room of your grandma's house are better than pillows here in Madagascar. I put mine in a backpacking compression bag and it didn't take up much room or weight. Worth its weight in gold during training alone.

Sleeping bag- Don't use mine often, but will when camping. Just good to have.

Clothes:
Yes, you can buy clothes here. But clothes shopping is not as easy or enjoyable here as in the US. So bring what you can and want to, but nothing you'd cry over if it got destroyed within your first month in country (it happens). Also, taller people have an even harder time finding clothes here, especially footwear. (I'm tall here at 5'10").

Comfy Clothes (for around the house)- Warm and cold weather versions.

Jeans- Wouldn't hurt to bring a few pairs. I brought two and they both have holes in them already (thanks Tana).

Dress Clothes- I wear American dress slacks, shirts and shoes when I teach here, though business casual is just fine. Bring several (5ish) shirts but only one or two ties. I don't know what girls wear when they teach, but for sure nothing they'd wear to a club.

Underwear- Lots of it. One PCV in my stage brought 90 pairs of underwear, which is excessive. But 20 is not. Synthetic fabrics dry fast which is pretty handy here. Also, I like wearing undershirts with dress shirts so I brought four or five. Girls should probably bring plenty of bras, just a guess.

Socks- Minimum five pairs each of dress and athletic socks. Once again, synthetic fabrics dry faster but aren't necessary.

Shorts- At least two pairs. I wish I had brought six. I wore shorts every day during the hot season and now my US pairs are both worn out.

Flip flops- Durable and with good support. Crappy ones are easily obtained here.

Other Shoes: Hiking boots, cross-trainers, nice sneakers, and dress shoes.

A Good Knife- They all suck here.

Flashlights (small is fine)

American Candy/Snacks- You will want this during training, no matter what you think now. For guys, bring beef jerky or other protein-rich snacks, as the rice diet during homestay will make you really hungry. Oh and guys, eat as much as possible before leaving the US. You will probably lose 10 pounds during training.

Alright that's what I can think of for now. I probably forgot something, or included something you won't bring. That's okay, use your best judgment. And feel free to ask ANY question you may have while preparing to leave. Enjoy your last few weeks at home, eat/drink as much as possible of your favorites, and get here safely!

Tongava soa! (Bon voyage!)

Big Changes to Ambatondrazaka After Nearby Sapphire Discovery

Ambatondrazaka has been abuzz lately, with full hotels, newly opened offices, and foreign faces everywhere. The reason? Newly discovered sapphires about 50 km southeast, near the town of Didy.

The changes were subtle at first, but over the past few days one can see them everywhere. I bought a soda at a corner store on Friday and by Sunday it was empty and repainted. The owner closed down because she was offered about $600 a month in rent for the space. The rent should not have been more than a hundred dollars or so. Paying money like that, it's no wonder so many people are closing up shop here.

Fortunately, it appears that more successful businesses are remaining open, at least for now. A friend of mine owns a hotel restaurant, and over the past week has added a covered outdoor bar and seating area. Several of the gem buyers, almost all Sri Lankan, are staying at his hotel indefinitely. Eating lunch there today, I witnessed a trio of Frenchmen approached by a Malagasy man with stones. They examined them for several minutes right at their table before politely declining to buy them.

The road to Didy is very bad, so big tractors with long, open trailers are the most common way to get people and supplies there from Ambatondrazaka. The street where these tractors depart used to be a very quiet place, though it is now common to see four or five tractors loading up at once.

The majority of stone buyers have opened office fronts close to this makeshift tractor station. They are freshly whitewashed buildings, clean and newly painted inside, with one Sri Lankan buyer sitting behind a desk. Two or three empty chairs are ready for anyone who stops by with stones for sale. The reason that so many come from Sri Lanka is the long history of Sapphire mining and trading there. As one buyer told me, Sri Lankans have been in the Sapphire business for generations, so they know it well. And though most of the buyers are Sri Lankan, there are French and Malagasy buyers here as well (though they haven't opened offices).

Not only do the buyers need office space, but they also need places to live. Some are still staying at hotels, but many have already found semi-permanent residences. I've talked to people who have been approached by buyers looking to rent houses. As with the office spaces, incredibly high rents are offered for housing to get people to acquiesce. A family may rent a cheap house elsewhere and rent out their own house to buyers, making a healthy profit from the deal.

The changes in Didy are most likely even more noticeable than here in Ambatondrazaka. I've heard that rice is now 900 Ariary per cup there, whereas it was only 300 not too long ago. Beer has gone up to 7,000 Ariary a bottle, while it remains around 2,000 here. Didy has probably seen a huge influx of Malagasy migrants striking out for stones, and the supply of goods still hasn't caught up with the rapid rise in demand.

Another potentially troubling aspect of this stone rush is that the mining is occurring in a protected forest area. The head of the region apparently sent in the police to try to stop this, but who would expect that to work? The only result is that the cost of business now includes paying off officers so mining can continue. How much forest will be disturbed by mining activities is still unknown because the extent of the area with sapphires is still unknown.

And the worst part of this entire charade is that it is another instance of Africa's resources being exploited by foreigners who take the vast majority of the profits. The previous president, Marc Ravalomanana, banned the export of unprocessed stones to try to remedy this problem. But when he was ousted in a coup in 2009, foreign investment in processing here in Madagascar dried up. So the export ban was lifted in 2010, and almost all the sapphires being found in Didy will be sent abroad to be cut and polished.

It is still very early, so it's hard to tell exactly what the long term changes to Ambatondrazaka and Didy will be. Some of the buyers are said to be prepared to stay here as long as stones are being found, which could be several years. And it isn't change itself that worries me, but the unsustainable influx of money that has begun. Will people invest that money, or just spend it? Will they invest it in businesses catering to the gem buyers, which will then go under if the mine gets tapped out? I'm apprehensive to say the least. But, forever the optimist, I'm hoping nothing too bad happens to the city I now call home.

The School is Quiet

Three in the afternoon on a Wednesday... I should be meeting with my English club, in the middle of my busiest day of the week. Instead, I'm just hanging out listening to Alpha Blondy.

Yesterday afternoon, my fellow teachers here at the lycee decided to join the national teacher strike that had already been going on for ten days. I heard that some important person came to town and that is what spurred the action here, though a teacher also told me "Kamo miasa ny Malagasy, dia migreve" (Basically, they are kind of lazy so they are striking. Though he laughed when he said it so I don't know how serious he was). And my boss from Peace Corps told us all to not get involved because there could be some political stance behind the action, though a different teacher denied this. I'm not going to try to speculate, but I will say that if it weren't for the national strike, my coworkers most likely would be teaching as I write this.

Had a crazy couple of weeks during exam time. I received my stack of over 400 exams to be graded on a Thursday, then had to have each class' graded before we met the following week. But I didn't realize this until I had already spent the weekend hanging out with friends and not doing much grading. So partly my fault I guess, but in any case that wasn't too fun.

Oh also, we have three terms at my lycee, but only two exams (February and June). The second term ends next week, but grades have been turned in for a week and a half. So any work after the exam is essentially part of the third term, even though it doesn't officially start until April 16. No one else here seems to be that surprised by this arrangement.

Luckily, I have a lot to be happy about right now. I will be heading out on vacation next week, hitting up the east coast for a week and then spending a couple of days in the capital. It will be great to see friends again, since they live far enough away to make weekend trips impractical. And I'm looking forward to getting out of my region. I don't leave very often since friends in the area always come here to go to the bank and whatnot.
Also, avocados are in season! So damn good. And cheap too at 100-200 AR each depending on size (~5-10 cents). I've heard the season is short (as it is for all good food here) so I'm eating avocado about four times a week now. Cheapest guac I'll ever eat...

I also haven't gotten any sort of sickness in quite a long time (knocking on wood rapidly as I write this). Other than my side effects from my malaria meds, which I'm getting changed anyway. I guess my stomach has finally gotten used to living here!

I am also no longer an organic farmer here. I have over 60 passion fruits on the vine now, but several have developed a brown spot and fallen off before ripening fully. I was told there were bibikely (Literally "small animals," but means insects or other bugs. I love the word.) and I should get some spray for them. At the store, the guy agreed with the diagnosis (I had brought a diseased specimen along), measured out a liquid chemical with what looked like a giant syringe, and put it into a little bottle for me. He told me to add it to a liter and a half of water and spray it on. Chemical, bottle, and advice: 400 Ariary (20 cents). Score.

Conveniently, 1.5 liters is a standard size for plastic bottles here (I wasn't about to buy a spray applicator). So I got an old bottle, added the chemical and water, poked a couple of little holes in the lid, and squeezed to shoot it onto my passion fruit vine. So far so good, but I've got my eyes on you, bibikely...

Oh yeah, also, one of the better known singers in Madagascar is coming to town on Sunday for a concert... Samoela! I'm going with a friend who is a lycee student here and an avid student of English and America, and two PCV friends. Then I teach Monday (maybe), and Tuesday my vacation will have begun!

Happy New Year

So it's been too long, sorry! Here's what's new:

Before school started back up for 2012, I went up the west side of Lake Alaotra to the "country house" of the family here in Ambato that PCVs in the region are always friends with. They own rice fields there and use the country house as a base from which to direct farming operations. They have a considerably large holding, so they pay locals to do almost all of the labor. But I didn't know that when they invited me up to help transplant rice that weekend. I think they just wanted me to have the experience of planting rice while I was here, for which I am very thankful.

Took the taxi-brousse up to the country house with Miomehy, which wasn't too bad. Got the middle front seat squished between the driver and a cop who was traveling with us. Had my backpack on my lap and had to move my leg a little when the driver shifted gears, but when the cop got out I moved over to the window seat (felt like first class with all the leg room). Arrived around noon, hung out for a bit and then ate some rice before heading out into the fields.

Walking to the part of the rice field we were going to be working on was a bit of a challenge. For me, not for the Gasys. The fields are divided into sections by mud walls/barriers that also serve as walkways. I don't know if Gasys are so good at walking along the narrow paths because they are short, they've been doing it their whole lives, or just have rice farming in their blood (probably the second one). In any case, my inexperience, height, and white blood weren't doing me any favors that day. In fact, as I struggled to keep up with Miomehy while also not falling into the water, I thought about a story about my own mother (sorry Mom!). Her side of the family is known for its clumsiness, and one day she was walking along a planter wall in LA's Japan town when she lost her balance and, rather than falling in, jumped in to avoid injury. Needless to say, she has had a hard time living it down, which provided some good motivation for me to keep my balance. I had to channel every bit of mental effort to overcome the clumsy genes she gave me!

After about 15 minutes of walking, we finally arrived at our planting spot. It was a wet, muddy section of land, so I took off my sandals and hopped in. It was a relief to finally be in the mud and not have to worry about falling into it anymore. The transplanting process goes like this: Grab a handful of young plants, pick off four or five at a time, and shove them into the mud. Though it is really simple, I was anxious that I was doing it wrong the whole time. Are my plants too far apart? Am I putting the roots too far into the mud? Am I putting too many into one spot? Luckily, I did fine and we got a good amount planted before darkness fell.

We went back at it in the morning too, though only for a couple of hours because I had to head back to Ambato for school the following day.

So the process for getting back to Ambato goes like this: Wait by the side of the road and flag down any vehicle that passes by. Unfortunately, it was Sunday AND the day before school started back up again, so the taxi-brousses that were on the road were mostly full. After waiting about two and a half hours, a brousse finally stopped for me. It was packed. I asked how much to Ambato (should be 3,000 Ariary). Guy: "Four thousand" Me: "But it should be three" Guy (to the driver): "Let's go!" Me: "Okay okay!" And with that, I hopped on the back of the van and held on tight. Luckily I was able to stand inside the vehicle after only a few miles, and got a seat after a few more. It was a fun weekend trip and I'm planning to head up again when they're harvesting.

Other events of interest include new years parties. Many people go on vacation over the holidays, so new years parties are held in January and February (at least I am guessing that's the reason). So I got to attend four parties between mid-Jan and mid-Feb. The first was the students' party at my lycee. But it wasn't one party; each classroom had its own DJ and sound system, so there were about 30 different dance parties going on at once. The class I was responsible for was sharing a room with another class, so it was a big party. And for most of it, I was the only adult supervising. Fortunately, the kids here are much better behaved than American youngsters (I know, I was one of them a very short time ago). But unlike America, I as chaperone was expected to dance with them. I had a great time with them, and kept my distance from the girls!

The next day was the teachers' party. So much better than the students party. For one, we ate geese (delicious). We also started drinking before noon. We had karaoke and dancing, and I teamed up with the other English teachers on such classics as "We Are the World," "Billy Jean," some Celine Dion, and Jason Mraz - "I'm Yours." Another good time all around.

The next two new years parties were fun but not particularly interesting. Lots of speeches, a good amount of praying, and some dancing. And I only have ten more months until I get to celebrate the next new year!

I also went on a long bike ride last month. It was a lot of fun but really tiring.. I rode over 53 miles on dirt roads in one day! 

Oh yeah, a cyclone passed through here a couple of weeks ago. Cyclone's are the same as hurricanes, but they spin in the opposite direction and occur in the southern hemisphere rather than the northern. It wasn't very bad here, just high winds and a lot of steady rain. A few trees and fences down, a few roads flooded, and that about did it for Cyclone Giovanna here in the Alaotra area. However, further south, and especially near the coast, many homes were damaged or destroyed and at least 31 people were killed. A tropical storm just passed through here yesterday and last night, very similar to the weather during the cyclone but with lower wind speeds. Hoping that the coast is spared any more cyclones this season, though we still have a couple months before we're in the clear.

I recently finished another building project here at the house. The previous volunteer, Tom, planted a passion fruit vine, but it was just growing on the fence (and growing fast!). So I put a post in the ground and made a little trellis with bamboo. My next door neighbor got angry that I used bamboo and told me it wasn't strong enough. I got annoyed that he was being kind of an jerk and told him that it was fine, and if it broke I would fix it. (My neighbor is a little strange, not too nice, and not typical of the local culture which is very INdirect). The trellis survived the cyclone, but the bamboo here weakens as it dries, so I had to replace it the other day. It is now made of real wood and matanjaka tsara (real strong)!

My students are all taking exams this week, and I proctored all day yesterday. We are fortunate to have a photocopy of every exam for each student, whereas other schools make the teachers write entire exams on the blackboard. They also make the students sit next to students who are taking a different test than them to prevent cheating (it's pretty rampant here if left unchecked). I actually caught a cheater only a couple of hours in yesterday. He went to the bathroom and I became suspicious that he might confer with classmates who had already turned in their exams. I went outside and saw him doing just that. My proviseur (principal) went and found him for me, made him turn in his test that instant, and had me write down the incident on the observation form. Gotcha!

Okay I think that's cool for now. I'm only like four weeks away from Easter break, which I am really looking forward to. I haven't been out of the area for a while (feels like longer than it is) and I really want to see the coast here (haven't gone yet). I will post more pictures when I get the chance. Until next time! Manaraka indray!

Authenticity

This post is not a general update; it is about the idea of authenticity.

I should explain. I was reading a fellow PCV's blog a few weeks ago, and was intrigued by its argument. The author wrote about how glad he was that he doesn't have electricity at his site because he feels he has had a better or more real Peace Corps experience without it.

As a PCV in an urban setting, with electricity, running water, and access to the Internet, I find this type of argument a little unsettling to say the least. Actually, I was a little offended by the implication that I am having a lesser Peace Corps experience because I do have access to more "luxuries" than the author. I guess the irony that he lamented the spread of technology in Peace Corps life in a blog post was lost on him.

The idea of the "real Peace Corps experience" is not a new one, and is similar to other claims of authenticity. You aren't a real Lakers fan because you aren't from LA. He isn't a real black man because he "acts white." Some of these claims are obviously more benign than others, but comparing them can get you thinking about which are reasonable and which aren't.

I have two aunts and an uncle who were PCVs in Senegal from 1969-1972, before the Internet and even cell phones. They are blown away that I can Skype with my parents so easily and have commented on how much the Peace Corps experience has changed since they were volunteers. They were certainly not blogging, though the "real" PCVs of today who live without electricity still can when they are in larger towns (every PCV goes at least once a month for banking).

There is no question that having electricity and running water makes my life easier here, and that being able to talk with people back home is really nice. But the hardest part of Peace Corps is not the separation from electricity and running water, or even the Internet. The hardest part is being away from everything that is familiar and comfortable: friends and family, American culture, your native language. I have just as hard a time being away from these things, the important things, as any other volunteer. Plus, the difficulty of PCV life shouldn't determine how authentic one's experience is (though it certainly earns the respect of fellow PCVs like myself). I think I will get just as much out of my Peace Corps experience being plugged in as I would have had I been completely off the grid, thank you very much.

But I think what really bothers me about calling some Peace Corps experiences more real or authentic than others is that the standard for a "real" experience seems quite similar to Western notions of the "real" Africa. The "real" PCV lives in the village, without modern amenities, cut off from the rest of civilization, just like "real" Africans do. The ones in the cities, with electricity and nice homes, the ability to satisfy their every need, are not "really" Africans or PCVs. They are imposters, coddled Westerners who just happen to live in Africa.

The point is that what makes a PCV a PCV or an African an African are not superficial things like electricity. In the case of Africans, the idea of citizenship should be used in place of culture or ethnicity in determining who is African (if you are a citizen of an African country, you are African). For PCVs, living for two years in an underdeveloped country far from home with the goal of educating and empowering individuals and communities is a sufficient standard.

I taught two classes of 60 students today and struggled with Malagasy language and talkative kids, though I now feel incredibly good considering it is the Monday of the first week of school after Christmas vacation. Now I'm blogging about it, and I'm really glad I can share my thoughts and experiences with you.

Arabaina tratra ny taona daholo! (Happy new year everyone!)

Brick Oven

I've mentioned my oven a few times in previous posts, but I haven't gotten a chance to write about it properly until now. So here's the story!

During the first few weeks of training, most of the guys in our group were pretty much starving all the time. We also had to sit through some boring and only semi-useful training sessions, during which I began designing a brick oven to build once I got to site. I would sit near the back of the classroom at the school we used for our sessions, mouth watering over the thought of eating a homemade, brick oven-fired pizza, while my friend Anders daydreamt about buffalo chicken calzones. 

I arrived at my new house a month and a half later to find over 200 bricks and a bag of cement left by my predecessor, (thanks Tom !). I bought a mortar spreader at the market, but other supplies were a little harder to procure. I needed two pieces of sheet metal cut to specific sizes and sand to mix with cement. When I asked people where I could get the sheet metal, they would say "At the market," yet the market area here in Ambato is really the entire downtown area. Eventually, I tracked down a vendor who sold sheet metal and would cut it to my specifications. Score!

Sand was another story. In the US, of course, I would have made a trip to Home Depot and gotten all my supplies at once, including a bag of ready-mix mortar. But this is Madagascar, and there are no Home Depots. So you have to mix cement with sand to make concrete or mortar. I asked my friend Eddy where I could get some sand. 

"You can go get sand down the hill from here."

"So you can't buy sand? Because in the US we just buy sand when we need it."

"No, you don't have to buy sand here, you can just go take it."

Ah what a nice reminder of how much we Americans value convenience that buying sand was the preferred option for me. In any case, I looked "down the hill" from my house, near the rice fields, but did not find any sand. I asked a man who I saw on the road, who told me his son could take me to go get sand that Saturday. I told him that would be great, bought a large bag to carry the sand, and showed up ready to go as planned.

I followed his son, a student in his final year at the high school, about half a mile or so into the rice fields before we got to the drainage ditch/dried up creek area with the sand. We loaded up probably 30 or 40 pounds of sand into the bag, then headed back. It was a regular hot day under the harsh, high in the sky, tropical sun in Ambato, and I began sweating profusely almost immediately. It didn't help that the sand was really damn heavy. He volunteered to help, so we traded off carrying the bag until we got out of the rice fields. I carried the sand up the hill to my house alone, suffering all the way up. I immediately jumped in the cold shower upon arrival. I was really missing cars and their trunks that day.

But I had all my supplies, so construction could begin! I set up some bricks without mortar to see what the oven would look like, then took all but the last row down and started mixing cement.

I got the first row plus the floor done on the first day, though I did encounter a speed bump. I looked up the ratio of cement to sand, which was supposed to be 1:3 or so for mortar. But that ratio was terrible and nothing stuck together. I had to use a ratio of 2:1 cement to sand to get it sticky enough, possibly because the cement wasn't very good, possibly because I couldn't read the bag of cement very well. In any case, after day one:

I got a nice sunburn on my back that first day, so I was careful to only work really early in the morning thereafter (by about 6:30 the sun was too high for me). But this meant that many days I was just too lazy to get up at 5 and work. Slowly but surely, I added bricks to the oven, and installed the wooden door I would use to add wood to the fire.

I then put in the internal piece of sheet metal which serves as the oven rack, followed by a few more rows of bricks and a sheet metal capstone. And voila! My oven during its maiden voyage:

You may notice the absence of a door in the door area. When the rains came, the wood expanded so much that I had to take the door off the hinges to even get it off. I also found out that the one door was not nearly sufficient for enough air to come through, so the fire always went out. I had to use my hammer and chisel to break holes into the two sides, and now the air flow is pretty good. The wooden frame on the door catches fire on occasion, and the smoke from using firewood can be a bit much for some dishes (like cookies), so I might be switching to charcoal in the near future. I also want to build a barbeque attachment to be able to grill on my oven. But for now, I'm proud of my work... and craving pizza (which, by the way, turned out really well when I made it the first time!).

Christmas, and My First Chicken Kill

Christmas has come and gone, though it doesn't feel like either actually happened. Since Malagasy people really don't get into the holiday spirit like Americans do, I was without family and in blazing hot weather, it felt more like a random day in August than December 25th.

The market here in Ambato was packed on Christmas Eve (one of the only ways you could tell it was holiday season), but the whole town has been dead ever since. I had a good time hanging out with Ava here, and got to meet my Ambato predecessor. But now, there's not much to do. School's on break, and the CISCO (like the school district office) is closed, so I can't really work on my work here. I should spend the free time cleaning my house, but that's no fun. So blogging it is!

One interesting thing about Christmas was killing and cooking my first chicken, a Peace Corps milestone. It was waaayy too expensive because everyone buys birds during the holidays. Carried it back to my house (felt really cool carrying a chicken around), boiled some water, then got the knife and did it. It only twitched around a little bit after it died. By far the worst part was gutting it. After I dunked it in boiling water and pulled all the feathers off, I started gutting it. It looked really easy in a YouTube video I watched before coming to Madagascar, but whatever trick they used in the video I could not figure out. I got the guts halfway out, but then couldn't figure out how to detach them from the inside of the body for like 10 minutes. Found out the chicken was female when I found the place where all her egg yolks were stored (kinda weird), and also found some undigested corn kernels from earlier that morning.

I finally got the guts completely detached and into the bowl when I realized I didn't know what to do with them. The same happened with the feathers, which are currently on my compost pile (might just burn them). But I read in our PC cookbook that PCVs often offer chicken guts to neighbors in return for gutting them, so I headed next door with the guts and severed head on a plate and asked my neighbor if he wanted them. He did, and appeared to be very happy to have them. Two minutes later, he came to my house with some meat in a little bowl. "Mihinana kisoa?" (Do you eat pork?), he asked. Yes, I replied, at which point he pointed to his ear, indicating that the piece of meat I had just accepted was a cooked pig's ear. Kinda wished he hadn't told me that last part, because while [parts of it] tasted good, the thought of eating an ear really took away from the pleasure of actually eating it. It reminded me of a study where different people were given identical food, but for half the food was a weird color, like blue french fries. Surprise surprise, the colored food group rated the food as tasting worse than the control group. Anyway, I ate a lot of it and fed the rest to the neighbor's dog (without telling him, of course).

I baked the chicken in my oven, but I'm probably not going to do it again. The skin got really cooked and dry and hard. But the meat still tasted good! I think I also need to use charcoal for some things I cook.

All for now, I'm going to head to the market and figure out what to cook today. My site predecessor Tom has been using my bike the last few days and is returning it today. So I think I'll go for a ride tomorrow morning. Then I'm planning on riding to Ava's site to visit after the first. Don't have new years plans yet, though there will be parties here in Ambato. Might go with some other PCVs in the area. Merry Christmas, happy new year, happy Hanukkah!

Tana! And Other Stuff...

Wow it's been a while, sorry about that! I've been getting pretty well-settled into my life and work here. This will be a general update, then I'll write up some specific stories later.

So I guess I'll start with Thanksgiving. All but one of the other volunteers in my area came to Ambato and we had dinner with a Malagasy family that has been close with PCVs for a long time (they have a son who married a PCV ten years ago). They made geese (delicious, tastes like chicken), and the rest of us made different American Thanksgiving dishes (I made yam tangerine casserole, the amazing dish my dad makes every year). We had a great time and gorged ourselves like good Americans.

Eating geese also got me thinking- why not eat the Canada geese that live by Lake Merritt in Oakland? There are way too many of them and they're just sitting there waiting to be captured. So I looked it up, and other people have thought of the same thing in other parts of the country. And they've eaten the geese and they're apparently pretty good. So watch out Oakland geese, I'm coming for you in fall 2013.

The sad part of Thanksgiving weekend was saying goodbye to two of the volunteers in our region who have since gone back to the US (one is extending for one year in Mali!). We only had a couple of months to get to know them, but they will be missed.

I finished up the school term here a couple of weeks ago, meaning I gave and graded 400 quizzes in four days. Then did grades for the term. Luckily I was rewarded for my hard work with a trip to Tana! Ava and I left Ambato Friday morning (two weeks ago) on the taxi brousse. I hadn't been more than 25 km (16 miles) outside my site until then, so it was exciting to get out of town. The road wasn't too bad, and I had sort of enough room for my legs. Oh, to get an idea of how transportation works here: they told us to show up at 7, we showed up at 7:45, they told us we'd be leaving at 8:30, we left the station at 9:30, drove around town to pick people up who had sent family to hold their seats for them, and got out of town finally at 9:50. Stopped for lunch around noon, got to Moramanga (busy transit city) at 3. But traffic in Tana was bad and despite coming from the east, our brousse station is on the west side of town. So that sucked.

But we were in Tana and reunited with most of the rest of our training group! We went to a tex mex restaurant for dinner (the waitress lives in downtown LA and was visiting family, so random). Then had a liter of draft beer at a vazaha hotel followed by rum on the side of the street with some other volunteers who were in town (cheaper than buying it in bars haha). Brunch the next morning at an American-style restaurant-bakery called the cookie shop (first latte since coming to Mada). Explored Tana a bit, caught up with friends, and spent a third of my monthly allowance at two grocery stores (found gin!).

Our group headed up to Mantasoa that Monday for our training. It was great to see all the PC staff again. I really like and respect them, and the ones who I don't aren't working for PC anymore (they were contract employees). The training itself was okay, some sessions were better than others. Thursday we got to go visit our host families, so Sam Anders and I went together. Unfortunately, my whole family except for my Dad had already left for a family wedding in Tana! (The wedding for the couple whose engagement party I attended during pre-service training). But we still had fun hanging with the dads and Sam and Anders' families.

Oh, and I took an LPI during training too (the Peace Corps language test). It was optional, but I wanted to see how much Malagasy I had learned since training. Turns out a good amount. I went from intermediate high in September to advanced mid now! There are only two higher levels, advanced high and superior. Since one of the reasons I joined PC was to learn another language fluently, I am really happy to be making good progress this early on.

Tana again last weekend. Anders was invited to play on the US embassy's basketball against a Malagasy retired military team, so a few of us went to watch that. Anders was one of two white people on the team (the rest were Gasys who work for the embassy) and helped them win by 25 points. The guy from the embassy who played and drove us there took us out to lunch afterward and invited us to his house to watch the Super Bowl! If the Niners make it, I will be most certainly travelling to Tana for that.

Sunday I travelled across Tana to visit with the rest of my host family, which was really nice. We ate lunch, talked, and drank rum. I love having family here to visit.

Had to leave Tana on Monday, so I called to reserve a spot on the taxi brousse the night before. They said to show up at 8, and a friend said that she has never left before 10. I had to pick up some things from the PC office in the morning, so I showed up around 9:30. Aaaannnd the brousse had already left. And they said that all the other ones going to AmbatoAmbato, but the west side of Lake Alaotra. So when we got to the crossroads about 25 km out of town, my driver paid another driver to take me the rest of the way into town. All's well that ends well I guess.

I had bought four pounds of plums in Tana as voandalana (literally "seed of the road"- small gifts given to friends upon arrival from a trip), but half of them got smashed on the brousse. So I salvaged the good ones to give away, and left the rest of them overnight while I figured out what to do with them. Jelly? Seemed like too much work. But in the morning it hit me: booze! There's a recipe in our PC cookbook for homemade wine, so I pulled it out, pitted the mushy plums, boiled them with sugar, added yeast, and now there's wine fermenting in my living room! PC is making me very resourceful.

I've been back at site for a few days now, and this morning I went on a bike ride. I had just installed toe clips and inflated my tires using a new pump I bought in Tana, and they made a huge difference in ease of riding. I biked about 32 km round trip (16 miles), and I think I'm gonna be sore tomorrow. Oh, and I planted some more bok choy, some squash, jalapenos and basil yesterday. And I'm starting to turn a former volunteer's dog house into a chicken house. Yep, getting chickens soon!

All for now, look for some more posts about making a brick oven, killing a rat, and teaching in Madagascar soon!