Malagasy fetys and saying goodbye

My last month at site has been quite a roller coaster. While I’m not yet leaving the country, I have had to say goodbye to the community with whom I’ve lived and worked for the past two years. I will admit, there are some things I’ll be glad to say goodbye to and many new adventures I’m excited to move on to. However I’ve made so many close connections—both professional and personal—with Malagasies and Peace Corps volunteers in my region, which has made the moving process difficult.

Even though I chose not to end my two years before the holiday season so I could be with family back home, like most other volunteers in my “stage” (training group), I still had a wonderful Christmas here in Madagascar. A few of us in our region of the northeast corner decided to get together at a volunteer’s house in one of the larger towns and celebrate with close approximations to American traditions and a little Malagasy twist. Instead of mulled wine or cider we had tropical sangria with leechies, pineapples and mangoes. Instead of turkey and mashed potatoes we had a big tropical seafood feast at a fancy hotel on the waterfront. Instead of Christmas special marathons on T.V we watched a few Christmas movies that someone had on their laptop. Instead of large extravagant gift-giving, we had a “Secret Santa” exchange. Instead of tons of baked goods we had chocolate fondue with dark chocolate from Madagascar, coconut rum and fresh fruit to dip in it. We even had a tiny little artificial Christmas tree that we decorated with tinsel and plastic sparkly balls all imported from China. And we played twister. It was quite a memorable event, and I’m so grateful for all the awesome fellow Peace Corps volunteers I got to share it with.

I chose to spend New Years, or “Bonne Anne” in my village, as it was my last big “hurrah” before leaving my site, and as New Years is a huge holiday for Malagasies. During the few nights leading up to New Years, we had “Podium,” the Malagasy equivalent of a talent show. My counterpart had me practice dance routines with his wife and children and our neighbors, which we then performed on stage in front of the community. It was a blast, and I also enjoyed watching all the other acts. One of the teenage boys requested me to dance a few reggae songs with him and his buddy, too, which the audience enjoyed thoroughly.

New Years Eve brought the first big rains that we had seen in many months, which was certainly something to celebrate. After the epic semi-final soccer match between two neighborhoods in our town, which ended in a draw and then a dramatic shoot-off, the rains finally came. Everyone ran out into the main path through town and paraded around chanting and singing, welcoming the life-giving precipitation. Many had planted their rice a month before, assuming that the rains would have already come to water their crops, but it has been unusually dry this season so there were quite a few initial plantings lost to the drought.

On New Years Day, my counterpart invited me to his house to eat with his family. We shared a few beers, had a nice chat about American versus Malagasy traditions for celebrating New Years and then had a delicious feast with his family, which surprisingly didn’t consist of mounds and mounds of rice. The day after New Years is also still a “fety” for Malagasies, unlike Americans who either go back to work or use it as an extra day to recover from hangovers. My counterpart and I headed to Antsirabe Nord (my old site) to have a farewell lunch with the women’s group president, the nurse from Antsirabe Nord and their spouses. It was a joyful affair with good food and good drink and a wonderful chance for me to say goodbye to my friends and co-workers from my old site.

The following weekend was also filled with fetys, though of a much more emotional kind. On Saturday all of us Peace Corps volunteers in the area headed to Sambava to say goodbye to the two of us who were leaving the region. It was especially hard to say goodbye to our friend Caroline, as she is leaving the country for good, whereas I’ll still be around for a few more months. Again, there was lots of good Malagasy and American food, ample amount of drink and wonderful parting words shared between all of us volunteers who have shared some great triumphs and some rough times together. There were lots of laughs and lots of tears, and I will miss all of my fellow American co-workers and friends dearly. No one else can truly understand the unique experience we have shared in this beautiful yet sometimes harsh country.

While Caroline headed to the tarmac to take off for Tana on Sunday, I headed back to my site for a goodbye fety with my community. I had already set aside all of my belongings I was going to sell off in an auction as a fundraiser for my solar panel project. As soon as I got back and changed, the women’s group came to my door in a singing and dancing procession to gather all of my stuff and take me to the “bazary be” (central meeting place) for the ceremony and auction to follow.

As we made our way to the ceremony, tears started streaming down my face. I think it had finally hit me that I was leaving all of these wonderful, caring people for good, and was not sure if I’d ever have the means to return in the future (or if so, only after a very long time). It was so touching that all the women in the community had gathered together and donned their women’s group uniforms to celebrate and see me off. After raising the flag and singing the national anthem we took our places at the “bazary” and my counterpart started off the program.

In succession, the president of the village, the women’s group president, the president of the clinic, my counterpart (the nurse and head of the clinic), I and then the doctor from Antsirabe Nord all spoke. When the president of the women’s group gave her speech, she started crying, which in turn made me start crying again. Luckily I was able to compose myself before I gave my speech, and, even though after two years my Malagasy still isn’t quite up to par for orating, the community seemed to enjoy listening to me (or at least they laughed and clapped at all the right parts). There were lots of thank-yous and promises to keep in touch, and I left the community with parting words of encouragement that even if they don’t get another volunteer to replace me, they will still be able to do good work and continue on the path of development. There is such a strong sense of community and good leadership in their village.

After the speeches, the auction of all of my belongings that I couldn’t take with me on the airplane ensued. I was a little nervous, as I didn’t have a lot of stuff to offer, and there were many friends, co-workers and community members who wanted a chance and getting a “souvenir” from me. Thankfully, the women’s group and community leaders did a good job of running the auction fairly and keeping everyone under control. Some of the items (like bookshelves and chairs) went fairly expensive, but others were cheap, which gave more people the chance at buying items. Overall, we ended up raising a lot of money for the solar panel fund, which will go towards replacing the battery after a few years or making any other necessary repairs that come up after the one year warranty. Part of the money also went towards helping the pharmacy purchase extra medicines for poor patients who come to the clinic and can’t afford the necessary treatments.

The day after my big going-away fety in the village was mostly quiet, as it was a Monday and everyone was out in the fields working. I was busy packing up my life, but managed to take a break to have lunch with my counterpart and then sat on a neighbor’s porch to catch a little bit of a breeze. All of a sudden, I heard clapping and singing coming from the other end of town. Three folks who were still in town that day were walking hand in hand down the main path. As they got closer, I realized the song they were singing in beautiful yet raucous harmony was about me! They had made up a goodbye song for me and came over to where I was sitting on the porch to sing and dance. Pretty soon the few people that were hanging around the village came over to watch and join in the song and dance party. It was quite a touching moment.

That evening, the nurse and I brought over my belongings that I planned to donate to the clinic, which included a small table for the birthing room, shelves for the office, a hammer and a new broom. As he turned on the lights powered by the new solar panel, put all the papers that were piled all over the table and floor in the office onto the shelves and placed the table for newborn babies in the delivery room, I realized how much better the clinic looked. It’s amazing how a few small additions to the clinic could facilitate a significant improvement in the nurse’s ability to carry out his work.

On Tuesday, I headed to Sambava to get ready for my flight to the capital on Wednesday. That morning, the nurse helped me pack up, and we did the final accounting for the money from the auction to be donated to the clinic and solar panel fund. Some of my friends saw me off at the road and one of them even rode with me in the bush taxi to Sambava. It was a nice way to say goodbye, as I treated myself to a stay at a quiet bungalow on the beach and had a chance to see some fellow volunteers again before I flew out on Wednesday.

My next adventure will take me to the east coast near a town called Manompana (near the small port where the boats go over to Ile St. Marie). I’ll be working with a Malagasy NGO, training their field staff in community mobilization, behavior change methods and community analysis relating to clean water, sanitation and hygiene projects. I’ll update again when I move out there and work actually starts up.