The Big Transition

The events of the past week serve as a case study of what happens when a first world bureaucracy and a third world social organization combine with a language barrier to boot.
On Sunday everyone was bussed in to Antananarivo in preparation for the big day. There were many meetings to attend and papers to sign as well as lots of shopping that had to be done. First however, I needed money. Because all the branches of my banking company in Madagascar are locked in a childish battle for supremacy, I was unable to open my bank account in Antananarivo, I would have to do it in Mananjary. Peace Corps solved this problem by handing me my entire settle-in allowance and my first months pay in cash as I left the bureau HQ. Thus for the next week I would be responsible for keeping track of a stack of bills the size of a small chapter book all while commuting around a city that is experiencing one of the biggest spikes in crime in recent memory. Awesome.
Swear-in was great. It was held at the American Ambassadors residence in central Tana. It was a beautiful complex with landscaped gardens and an astounding view of historic Antananarivo. Despite the fact that most of the ceremony was conducted in incomprehensible rapid fire Malagasy, all of the trainees remained entertained by the huge lawn turtle that patrolled the grounds occasionally attacking the ambassadors folding chair. After the ceremony we were given run of the house and the pool as well as having Pizza and beer catered in. However, the highlight for me was my 5 minute conversation with the ambassador about the current state of Malagasy politics.
After that, chaos ensued. All 36 of us VOLUNTEERS, staying at two distant hotels in the city, needed to go to banks, do protocol visits, and shop for our new houses in the remaining daylight hours without the use of Peace Corps vehicles. The result was a frequent clown-car style taxi rides in little Renaults that only started by rubbing two wires together.
On Wednesday I was up early to catch the van South and by 7:30 we were “off like a herd of turtles” as Melissa so eloquently put it. By “We” I mean Ashley, Matt, Alison, Melissa, and myself, the sole volunteers responsible for the Sud-Est region of Madagascar. (A chuck of mountain and coast with two paved roads that is the approximate size of Portugal.) After passing through the beautiful cities of Ansirabe and Anbostra, we arrived first at my site, Ranomafana, by late evening. The plan was to visit my house, introduce my to people, and most critically to leave most of my belongings locked in my house while I continued on to Mananjary to do my banking. When I arrived at my house there was a very happy Malagasy family of four living inside of it and a big pile of sand and rocks outside on the road which turned out to be my no-yet poured cement floor. My house needless to say was not ready. We were assured that it would be ready soon, they only needed to pour the floor and finish building the new house for the existing Malagasy family. The family’s new home was next door to mine and was still lacking a roof. “It will be done by Saturday when you return!” Right.
Thus we were off like a herd of turtles again to Mananjary. We arrived before nightfall and Peace Corps put us up in modest beach side bungalows on the beach overlooking the Indian Ocean. Although the waters are shark infested and the under toe strong enough to drag down a full grown water buffalo, it did not prevent us from stealing out to the beach in our underwear at 9:30 for some frolicking in the waves by moonlight.
Now to the task at hand: Banking and Shopping. Essentially we had 24 hours to do all the shopping for our new homes and set up new bank accounts. The only hard part it turned out was buying a gas stove top. After buying the stove and the gas hose at store A (where incidentally we were greeted by the reigning Prime Ministers brother serving White Wine in plastic cups) we toured the city trying to find the gas to hook up to it. Eventually we returned to store A to buy an empty gas tank, bought a connector at store B and proceeded to store C to have it filled. However, store C which had earlier reassured us that they has gas was now suddenly out of gas, as was every other store in the entire town (we checked). This required us to drive all the way to Fianar the next day, an hour in the wrong direction, to finally get the gas.
Upon my return to Ranomafana, My house was still not done (surprise surprise) so I got put up in a Hotel until Wednesday when I was allowed to move in. There is lots more to say, but I cant afford to stay on the internet for more than an hour at a time so until next week

-Mike