A Hint of What To Do Next

Written January 6, 2012
Fort Dauphin

    I’ve finally gotten on top of the work that has piled up since I went for IST.  Now the only real task left is writing letters to a few people.
    In the morning I went to see Madame Fleur, who lives beside the market.  Fleur is a former teacher who worked closely with the American missionaries who managed the Lutheran Hospital back in the 70s.  She rose steadily in her work with the Lutheran Church’s relief efforts in Madagascar, and has traveled all over the world attending conferences for them. 
    She’s fluent in English, and strives everyday to help her neighbors improve their lives.  Her house is medium-sized, built of concrete, and spartanly decorated with a few devotional Lutheran wall hangings.  She runs workshops for local women almost every week on subjects like poultry raising and tree planting.
    I was going to ask what she thought of my tentative decision to focus on STIs and malaria in Manambaro, or if there might be more pressing health problems from her point of view.  Instead, she told me about the QMM competition she entered for local development projects.  QMM is the national mining concern, and they sometimes undertake development projects to counterbalance the image that they’re tearing up Madagascar to exploit its minerals and gems.  Fleur’s proposal is to donate her yard, which takes up a fair chunk of the town center, to build a youth center for children whose parents are illiterate and can’t help them with schoolwork.  She explained that, due to irregular teacher attendance, many times kids from the outlying villages show up to school after walking four or five kilometers only to find out that class has been cancelled for the day.  In those cases, they could come to the center to learn instead.  It’s very possible that kids might use these days off school to goof off in the town, but at least those who sincerely want to learn will have somewhere to turn.
    And I could help with the center, certainly teaching English, maybe French and history.  Teaching small groups in a discussion-oriented fashion appeals to me much more than the strict teacher-student duality that prevails here.
    In the afternoon the twins and I, along with their 11-year-old friend Dolson, transplanted the second mango sapling from Dadabé’s yard.  Dadabé is Fafa and Rodin’s grandfather, and something of a neighborhood patriarch.  He reminds me of my own granddad, who died in 2002: gracious towards everyone, always smiling, and duly proud of the home he built for his descendants.
    Since it hasn’t rained in a few days, the soil was harder than last time.  But we also had double the number of people working, so even with the tougher soil the digging went faster than we expected.
    As we penetrated the first few inches of dusty topsoil, a familiar blue 4x4 pulled up, and out stepped Hanitra and Lalaina from Project AVIA.  I’ve been meaning to join them on their trips to the bush, but the CDS got in the way, and after that I’ve had to come to Fort Dauphin every Friday to check for packages.  With them was a tall man who I naturally assumed was Malagasy as well.
    Actually, he was Malagasy-American.  Andre lives in Minneapolis and works with the Lutheran Church committee that oversees the hospital and Project AVIA.  He told me about AVIA’s plans in the coming year to focus on getting clean water to some of the villages around here.  Then, once the water goals have mostly been achieved, AVIA will start a campaign to educate villagers on improved farming techniques.  Andre said the second part is especially promising, since some farmers in Sarisambo have already started using guano, from local bat caves, I guess, to fertilize their crops.  He said the organization would love to have my help.
    As he was talking I had the sense of a complete role reversal: the well-dressed Malagasy is talking to a sweaty, dusty American clad in a hat, sandals, and ragged shorts.  The vazaha is leaning on his shovel as the islander explains his ideas for development in the future.  Only in the Peace Corps.
    So there is hope for the future: even if I were to initiate no projects of my own, there would still be lots I could do to help the other development agencies in Manambaro.  I’m not alone in this fight, and neither are they.