Picture is of me and my friend Katie weeding a rice field during training.

The first couple days at site were rough but ultimately rewarding. While I was held up in the hotel I made daily visits to my house and “helped” build the shower stall. By helped I mean stood by awkwardly and taught the kids how to play tic-tac-toe. I should have taken it as a bad omen when a papaya tree spontaneously cracked in half and fell on my shower, crumpling the roof and destroying one of the support beams but I was unphased.
The first night in my house was without exception the worst night of sleep I have ever had. First, my new foam mattress was as hard as a rock and would require some breaking in before I could sleep comfortably. Second, I was severely sun burnt from my afternoon washing my laundry in the river. And third, my house had rats.
After I blew out my candle my house was completely black, and I had naively not brought any light generating devices to bed with me. Thus I spent at least an hour listening in the dark as the rats climbed all over my things. I could hear them on my bike, on my gas tank, on my silverware and knocking over my water bottles. I took some comfort in my well secured mosquito net which I was certain that no rat could breach. Or so I thought. Did something just touch my foot!? I sat up in bed and hurled my Air-France courtesy pillow in the darkness at my feet. Nothing. I curled up in a corner and wondered how long it would be before exhaustion overtook me.
Suddenly I had a revelation. My watch! It has a light. I took it off and desperately began scanning the room will the dim green light let off by the display. Sure enough there was a rat in my net. As reached for a pillow it bolted into a corner and fled. At this point I was faced with a choice: wear out my watch battery from the breached fortress of my bed, or go out and bring the fight to them. Using my watch I emerged from my bed and located by cell phone flashlight and a heavy shoe and for the next thirty minutes chased rats (at least two) around my living room floor. My efforts were ultimately futile but I climbed in bed tired and feeling at least somewhat avenged.
The next morning I surveyed the damage. Large chunks of my newly whitewashed walls lay on the floor where new rat holes had been constructed. The tree samples I had collected the day before were destroyed, and the pineapple I had purchased for breakfast was half eaten. Rats 1 Michael 0.
After cleaning up I went immediately to my neighbor and co-worker Rodrigue (pronounced like Rodrigez but without the z) and told him that we needed to find a cat TODAY. So he graciously walked me down the road to a guy in town who had two extras. One of the cats was a two month old kitten who was still snuggled up with its mom and the other was a year old feline who was completely indifferent to my presence in the room. Being that I was looking for a cold calculated killer who would initiate a reign of terror over my resident rat population and not a cuddly ball of fur, I opted for the older cat. I stuffed it in my backpack and walked home. I owned that cat for about three seconds before it bolted to the door and disappeared into the banana grove behind my house. After three days of searching by the entire neighborhood and two very long nights spent in mild terror in my bed I went back to the cat guy and came home with the kitten. Her name is Sharbaraz.
Sharbaraz is the name of 4th century Persian general who was commissioned by his king Kousrau to destroy the Roman Empire. I thought the name was fitting for the situation I was bringing this cat into. Never mind that Sharbaraz failed to defeat the Romans and actually overthrew Kousrau but the name sounds feline and fierce and I like it.
Sharbaraz demands my complete total and undivided attention at all times. For the first few days she had a serious infestation of fleas (affectionately called parasy in Malagasy) which I spent hours diligently picking off of her. She likes to lick my chin and sleep on my shoulder. If I am not holding her she cries. When I cook dinner she cries, when I go to bed she cries. When I leave for work, she cries on the mat by the door until she falls asleep.
Now if I could only get her to use the litter box. Everytime it seems that I leave her alone in the room I come back to find a kitten surprise left in an unsuspecting corner. She once even made piddle in my laundry. She also is not old enough to catch rats, but her presence has resulted in a noticeable decrease in rat activity in the evenings.
That’s all for now, I promise I will write some about my work next time, but my hour is up.

-Mike