The Great Forest Adventure!!

Hi friends!

The puppy seems to be on the mend and we are in the capitol city until our flight home tomorrow night.  Thus it is time for the great, gargantuan post detailing our adventure in the forest.  

Day 1-Monday

We got up around 5 this morning to get to the taxibus station by 7.  The trip is only about 40km but, because of the condition of the road, the breakdowns of the bus, and the number of stops the trip can take anywhere from 4 to 9 hrs.  This time it was just 4hrs so we got to Ankililaoka in time for lunch- chicken and rice in the hotel’s restaurant- and then we slept most of the rest of the afternoon.

Day 2.3.4-Tuesday.Wednesday.Thursday

Each of these days followed the same sort of order.  We would get up, walk to a coffee stand outside of the hotel to sip tea and coffee and eat boko-boko- little fried doughballs that America needs to start importing asap.  Then it was a 4km walk from town of Ankililaoka to the little village where we were actually working.  There are a few different ways to take this trip: there were two paths, one through the rice fields that included wadding though knee deep black water, the other seemed a bit longer but was dry, cutting through tall grasses, or, you could go by ox cart.  During the week we did all three multiple times.  

Now, I know that I have made reference before to the way that white people, vazaha, are an exciting rarity, called out to at every turn, and starred at wherever they go.  Well in the rural areas it’s even more dramatic.  We were the only two white people in town for the week and I would just walk down the street - with 10 kids following behind - imagining dinner table conversation that night.  “Well kids, did you see the white girls today?” “Yes daddy, I saw them, one of them was singing while they walked and then she tripped and fell over.”  “I followed them till they reached the edge of town daddy!”  “They were stopped waiting for the ox cart so I stood nearby and imitated the sound of their english dad.”  “That’s all great kids!”  

Out in the village I would sit while Tessa would teach.  It was an interesting feeling for this girl who loves to talk to be forced by the language barrier to sit still and smile at all of the children who came from all over town to stare at the white girls.  There were tons of children and most of the girls mine and Tessa’s age were already toting babies of their own around.  These girls were all very sweet but having them all crowd around you, yelling questions to you in a different language, thinking if they just speak loud enough you will understand, is a bit overwhelming.  The idea that I don’t actually speak their language, that I speak a different one, was completely foreign to them.  Sometimes they would give up on asking me and just try to find out for themselves.  For example, they were wondering why I had worn two shirts and, after asking me why a few times, they just grabbed the shirts to investigate.  They did the same to satisfy their curiosity about my freckles, asking Tessa if they would go away when I went back to America.  One afternoon they offered to braid my hair, which I really wanted since it meant no more washing my hair with freezing cold water out of a bucket.  I didn’t really know how that was going to go, since earlier that day they had asked why I had cut my hair short, since boys cut their hair short, not girls.  When I sat down on the mat to let them start braiding I was surrounded in seconds by all of the women and children, there was a long discussion about just how to brain it, and then combing and pulling in all directions.  But the results, though unlike any brains I have ever seen, did make the rest of the trip easier.  

Day 5-Friday

We got up at 7 to catch the bus home, this bus was much bigger, since it was going to the big city, not from.  The floor of the bus is covered in bags of beans and rice, so your feet don’t actually touch the ground and your legs are all scrunched up.  Also, since the bus is going into the big city we would stop in every town and village along the way to pick up more cargo, people, mail, you name it.  There is no refrigerated transport so animals, except for fish, travel live.  There was a chicken two rows ahead of us, he looked friendly enough, but I didn’t start a conversation or anything, since I’m pretty sure I ate his brother for dinner the night before.  With all of the added stops and a breakdown or two we got back to Toliara in 8hrs instead of 4.  Just in time to clean up, eat dinner, and then realize that the puppy was sick.  

I know that there is so much more that I didn’t mention, as soon as I get back to the states I’ll get all the pictures up on facebook.  Dear reader, please find it in your heart to be proud of me for finally getting this written after nursing a puppy back to health, weaving a rug, helping my parents get across the world for a visit, saying goodbye to Toliara, and riding backseat-middle for two days straight up to the capitol on the bumpiest, curviest roads in the world.  We leave tomorrow night to start the trek home, me, mom, and dad.  We are all ready to get back but I know I’m gonna miss this big island when I get back to my little one.  Please keep us in your prayers for the rest of the week, that sicknesses and tummy troubles would leave us all and stay away, that flights would work out and connections would be smooth, and that we would all have the energy and spunk needed to make this doozy of a trip!  Misotra!