9/21
So it all starts when I wake up this
fine Saturday morning that I have off at… 6:30, yea, 6:30. It feels like nails on a chalkboard saying
that, even worse when it’s in reference to me.
I GOT UP AT 6:30 A.M. ON A SATURDAY BECAUSE I COULD. Let the record show that I did go to bed at
9:30 on a Friday so it’s not like I set myself up well for that one.
Anyhoo, I woke up super early for no
good reason at all other than to eat breakfast, which might be a good reason in
and of itself. I put on the clothes that
I wore all around yesterday biking and exploring through town, not to mention
sweating, no reason getting anything else dirty before my shower, and got a
feel for my state of being. Not only am
I dirty, I haven’t shaved for a week, so the neard (neck beard) is coming on
hard, my hair is super greasy from not taking a shower yesterday, so I decide
to sport a ball cap, and I make my presence known in the living room whilst my
three host sisters are watching some weird American cartoon on Cartoon Network
dubbed in French voices. Don’t ask me
what it was about, I only caught a pourquoi and a dix-huit through 5 minutes of
watching.
We sit down to our standard breakfast
consisting of a ramen noodle like pasta (I’m pretty sure it was ramen noodles,
but the American version needs this flavor) and part of a bagette. I return to my room after breakfast and
decide something needs to change. I
re-evaluate my life and decide that the best place to start is the beginning,
so I grab my shower gear and go for a shower.
I’m not sure if I have mentioned my
bathroom situation yet. They have a
really small hallway off of the dining room that acts as their bathroom. They have a shower and a toilet. Separated by a wall, each with their own
little alcove. They have no hot water,
which really isn’t that big of a problem considering its pretty warm here, it
just comes as a bit of a surprise in the morning, but it turns into a
comfortable cool temperature.
My next step is to clear off this
dreadful neard. Don’t get me wrong, I’m
gonna go hard for No-Shave November/Movember/Time to prove my facial hair
growing skills to my YAGM group with a second runner up medal to Tom and Ian in
November, but right now, an extra reason to sweat, is a reason to get rid
of. Only problem is that I don’t have a
mirror, I forgot to get one at the store yesterday, so I just go for it. Of course I came out on the other side with
red marks all over my face with a few missed patches, that is just something
that I am gonna have to get better at.
Lastly, I look at my clothes stockpile
(I don’t have a dresser or anything, so my clothes are slowly becoming a pile
in my suitcase). **COMMERCIAL BREAK my
sister just gave me a mango** Well that was delicious. Ok, my clothes. Yea, so I decide, it’s time for a wash. So I gather up a small pile grab my bucket
and soap and get to it. I gather some
water and start scrubbing on my front porch.
Before you know it, a couple people stop and look at me. I can only guess what their impression is… A.
What is this American doing, they don’t wash clothes, why is he doing
that. B. What is this American
doing? Is he trying to wash clothes? Haha, he is doing it completely wrong, look
at that stain! He’s not even coming close to getting it out.. C. Why
is he taking a shower outside with his clothes on? Regardless of what they thought, one of the
ladies, I think the actual mother of one of my host sisters (I’m pretty sure
all my host sisters are cousins) sits down next to me and shows me how its
done. Don’t take notes from me, but I
would venture to guess what I was doing, which was just taking the clothes in
my fists and washing them between my knuckles, which is what I had been doing
for about 10-15 minutes was wrong. My
host aunt sat down next to me and actually began helping me. You take a fistful of a garmet in one hand
and then your other hand takes the other end of the garmet about 6 inches down
and run it along from the top of the inside of your wrist down to the end of
your fist. I mimicked them and was still
doing it wrong apparently, so again, don’t take your notes from me, but it must
have been a site to see, and actually made a chore, a heck of a lot of fun.
My aunt (who really does speak zero
English) and I exchanged a few words that we could. While my sisters actually got involved in
showing me how to wash also. Even some
of the ladies from the neighboring houses joined the group to talk and socialize
and it turned into an experience that I could really learn from, and of course,
the (what I am guessing will be the) recurring theme of laughing at myself
happened to be a majority of my time. By
the time we got done washing, one of the ladies offered me her clothes pins and
my host brother actually helped me hang them up, which I think the ladies were
even making fun of him at one point for actually helping me with my laundry.
That is how my Malagasy experience has
been thus far. A combination of
mutuality and accompaniment. These
ladies, who very well could have been on their way to do their own chores, went
out of their way to help me in a feat that I was apparently failing miserably
at. It is that kind of community that I
enjoy. Even the kids along the street,
or the people at work, everyone is so eager to help, and to show, and to be
shown, or to learn something new. The
community is unlike any other that I have experienced. With open hearts they accept me and my
shortcomings (communication and clothes washing to name a few) and get out of
their way to make me feel accepted and help me in this new environment. I will admit, I am still a vasa (which the
children on the street don’t let me forget) but slowly, there is a change that
I can feel. Even after only one week, I
can start to feel the familiar comforts of home in a strange new place.
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