"Building skyscrapers by hand."

Something I forgot to talk about in that last post. . .

My second to last day in Ranomafana I was invited by Pat Wright to ascend the ramp to the top of the new building that has been undergoing construction throughout our time in Madagascar.

For a few days prior the workers had begun the task of pouring the cement for the roof of the building. The thing is, it's Madagascar, which means that the whole building was being built by hand. The cement was mixed along the side of the road in two large cement mixers. There were piles of some sort of dirt, sacks of cement, piles of gravel-like rocks, and tons of Malagasy men hard at work shoveling various substances into wheelbarrows, scooping buckets of different materials into the mixers.

The machines would produce the wet cement and men would be waiting with wheelbarrows to be filled and wheeled up the 40 meter ramp to the top of the building where they'd navigate across plywood paths to the edge of the newly laid cement where other workers were waiting, with tools to flatten and smooth over the surface of the cement (as well as a hose-like thing which I can only assume was sucking out the excess water from the mixture). The whole process was pretty incredible to watch, even though much of what they were doing was beyond my understanding.

While we were atop the building we looked out across the roof and noticed an astounding number of moths had collected on the scaffolding and around the lights that had been blaring the whole night long (because the workers worked overnight every night until the cement was completely laid for the roof). A total of 5 comet moths and an uncountable number of other moths were just chilling around the roof. Pat Wright, the architect of the building, Noel (another primatologist), and I made our way across the roof - doing our best to not get in the way of the workers - to gape at the numbers and incredible variation in moths that had all been drawn to the light.

The work that the construction team had done on the new building over the 3 months that I spent in Madagascar is truly amazing. I believe in our brief time there they constructed a full floor and roof of the building. And it's a big building; one floor is a lot of area. They had to build the scaffolding by hand as they went, had very little machinery - aside from the cement mixing material I believe I saw only one electric saw which they used to not only to cut through metal bars but also to sharpen their hand axes - that was cool.

I distinctly remember one occasion during our program when the power was out in Ranomafana for the day - I believe the hydro-electric plant had a schedule of rolling black-outs for all of the areas which it provided electricity to -the construction continued. There were metal support beams which needed to be cut and so out came the hand saws and elbow grease, and the job got done.

Watching these men work, and just seeing the Malagasy people and culture as we drove cross country continually impressed me. It illustrated to me just how incredible the human body is, the things we are physically capable of are far beyond the capacities for which we use our bodies here in the states.

An example: The porters. On two occasions I hiked out to the primary forest. The first time to Vato, the second time a few kilometers farther to Valo. Each time porters were sent out to the campsite with supplies that we would be needing during our stay there - food, wood for the fire, the tents (ValBio provided us with large tents so we wouldn't all how to bring our own 1-3 person tents), and likely other things I hadn't even realized we were using. So the first time I hiked with the faster group out to Vato, it took us approximately an hour and 20 minutes to get there with our packs -designed for hiking and not completely full - hiking boots, and full waterbottles. We were surpassed by the porters, who were nearly (or in some cases were) running - often with bare feet - along the trails, large sacks of various supplies held above their heads. Wow.

For them it was no big deal. It was a morning's work and a quick way to make some extra money. Again: Wow.

Another example: On our cross country trip we passed tons of rice paddies (obviously) but also several brick-farms (I don't know what to call them, really - places where there were making bricks). The absolutely incredible thing we observed while passing these farms were the women who were working at them. On several occasions we'd watch as a woman casually loaded 6, 8, 12, I think up to 14 (maybe more) bricks on top of her head, and then walked - no big deal - along a narrow path between rice paddies. We were stunned, but for them, it's just what they do. Had it not seen it myself I would have had trouble believing they could actually do it, but as I did see it, I am instead just amazed.

Mbola tsy vonona mandeha. Betsaka.

I can't believe its my final night here. I just don't want to. I'm not as sad as I was the first time I was preparing to depart, but I still am not ready to go.

I came to Madagascar in September, and in less than three months I fell in love. I love the landscape, I love the culture, I love the people, I love the nature, I love the sky, I love the weather, I love this country. It's hard for me to leave, knowing that I won't be making a particularly hasty return, although at the moment that's pretty much all I want. I have no doubt, however, that this will not be my last time here. I have formed too many friendships here to have them continue only via emails and facebook, and have come to care too much about the country to not return and do something for its benefit. Alas, I have an education to complete first.

Even so, I did extend my stay here for an additional 2 weeks, and those two weeks were wonderful. The only negative thing I can say of my extra time here was, of course, that it was not long enough.

My travels started with a taxi brousse ride to Fianarantsoa. The thing I've learned over the past two weeks about taxi brousses is that you can never be sure what your ride will entail. This first experience was quite comfortable. I sat between Dadah and another English speaking Malagasy man in the back row of the bus. It wasn't a crowded bus, but it was full; I believe all four rows of seats had three people in them. In front of Dadah, however, was an old and potentially drunk man who for about an hour and a half of the ride decided to talk with us.

At first we were all entertained. He was old, he had stories, and some sort of wisdom to impart. He had lived for 5 years in Russia (apparently Madagascar used to have some ties with Russia. . . ) and so had opened the conversation by asking me (via translation by Dadah) if I spoke Russian. I do not. I also do not speak French or Malagasy, yet this did not dissuade him from speaking to and about me for an extended period of time.

He talked of how life in the States is very fast and requires that you rush everywhere, while life in Madagascar is calmer and more slow paced. With this I agreed. He then continued to talk about some things that I didn't understand (ahh language barriers). And eventually told the story of how many years prior he had been paid by a Vazaha to get married so that she could remain in Madagascar. He then told me that I was only in the country to exploit their resources. With this I did not agree.

He continued to talk about love, I believe, and many times told me that love requires loyalty, only to follow up this lesson with a story about an English speaking teacher he once either had or met, who he loved. Yet this was not the same Vazaha who paid him to get married as far as I could tell. His very one-sided conversation with the three of us continued for some time more, and eventually both boys got sick of translating, or didn't want to translate - I was told much of what he said was rather offensive.

After around 40 minutes I thought I started hearing some repeats in what had come to be his monologue. I raised an eyebrow to my companion to the left who had been more recently translating and he confirmed my suspicions that the old man was now repeating himself. He was back on the pace of life in America versus Madagascar.

At this point pretty much all exchange of dialog had ended and it was just the old man talking, but when he came full circle for the third time the iPod came out. It wasn't a very subtle way to end the conversation, unfortunately, but subtlety had clearly not been working.

The rest of that ride was spent mostly in silence, listening to music or napping, with periodic bouts of Dadah trying to help me learn some Malagasy. It was about a 9 hour drive, however, and aside from a break for the bathroom and break in a village for lunch was mostly uneventful.

My time in Fianar was fantastic. I stayed with Dadah at his Aunt and Uncle's house, that evening and consequently met his family that night. Although I wasn't able to discern the vast majority of the conversation that ensued throughout the evening, I throughly enjoyed the opportunity to experience an evening in a Malagasy household, as well as the opportunity to listen to and try and decipher bits of their conversation.

The next morning Dadah and I met up with his two best friends and headed down to roam about Fianar. He showed me where his school was and I was able to meet some of his other classmates, and then we headed uphill towards a Belle Vue, where our trek was rewarded by a fantastic view of the city.

That afternoon I was to take another taxi brousse on to Ranomafana, so around noon we headed back to Dadah's house for lunch, and then made our way back down to the bus station where we were immediately mobbed by people trying to persuade us which taxi would be best for a lone female vazaha to take for the hour and a half journey.

To me, it didn't really matter, I'm fairly confident that I would have arrived at my destination regardless of which bus I boarded, and in fact, that is what happened. I was dropped off back at the entrance of Centre Valbio around 5:00 just as Tolotra, one of the students from University of Fianar was returning from the forest. I couldn't stop smiling as I made my way up to the Giet where I rented a bed for the night (The Giet has 3 hostel style-rooms). I was back!

I had one roommate at the Giet, an American named Eric, who was about half way through a 3 month vacation across Madagascar, we talked for a while about our respective stays in the country, and eventually he headed out for a hike, and after a shower I made my way down to ValBio, where I was warmly greeted by several of the researchers we had left behind at CVB a week before.

So that first week at Ranomafana passed quickly, but happily. I spent my days wandering some of the less traveled trails around the park and campsite, lazily following the river that runs past ValBio, had a trip to town, read a few books, bothered the Malagasy researchers in an attempt to learn their language, and just hung out with friends in a place I love.

Thursday saw the return of the Finnish (Helsinky) study abroad group from their trip to the Primary forest Vatorahana (I actually have no idea how the full title of that area of forest is spelled or pronounced, I just threw some letters onto the end of Vato-). It was strange having ValBio be full of vazaha again, yet having those vazaha not be my American friends.

On Friday afternoon I packed up my backpack and, accompanied by Staff (as the Malagasy researchers have named themselves) to the side of the road where Temba and I were to catch a taxi brousse back to Fianar.

Our destination was Manakara, an East coast beach where Temba grew up. He had agreed to accompany me on my travels and show me around, a huge relief for me, as I would have been fairly lost attempting to navigate the bus stations and a new village on my own.

So our plan was to bus the hour and a half back to Fianar, and then take a bus from there to Manakara that same day. The entertaining thing about this plan was the fact that the bus from Fianar to Manakara goes straight past the driveway to ValBio, unfortunately buses are always full by the time they reach Ranomafana, and so Temba though we'd have better luck just doubling back.

The journey was long, and fairly uncomfortable (we left Fianar at around 8:30pm, seated 4 to a row, with 8 hours of hot car and curving roads ahead of us), but got us to our destination before the sun rose the following day. We waited around for about an hour until the sun rose and people began stirring, then found a bungalow to rent in Manakara and napped until around 1.

Once we were up and rested we headed out to see the area. We walked along a beach in Manakarabe (I believe), and then followed an inlet to a small port where we were able to sit in the shade and watch people swimming and going about their business. Manakara is beautiful. It's drastically different from Ifaty, the West coast beach that we visited with Study Abroad during our cross country trip; there is very little tourism, and the water looked distinctly aggressive, with continually pounding waves that I'd be sincerely frightened to try and swim in.

After a relaxing visit at the shore we headed through town, meandered amidst the crowds in the market, and eventually ended up in a residential area where Temba was raised and much of his family still lived. We had a brief but pleasant visit with his sister, and then walked a short ways to meet the rest of his family. It was during this visit that I had my first encounter with Madagascar leechee. Having only had leechee from street vendors in NYC prior to this, I was initially hesitant. Only to realize that these hesitations were nothing but foolish, as Madagascar leechee (from Manakara at least) are absolutely delicious.

The plan was to meet his family again the next day for lunch, so we said our farewells and headed back to the bungalow, as night was fast approaching.

The next day included a visit to a different Manakara beach, some more meandering though the area, and of course, lunch with Temba's family. Again, most of the conversation was beyond my comprehension, but I loved being surrounded by the culture and language that I've come to so fully adore. We spent the afternoon avoiding the heat by sticking to the shade (aloka!) and teaching each other vocab (and in my case basic grammar) of our respective languages. Around 6 we made our way back to the bus station to return to Ranomafana.

Our fortunes turned for this second bus ride, as we ended up only two to our row, and therefore had ample space to spread out and nap for a large portion of the trip (well, I slept at least. . . ). 1:30 the next morning saw us return to the gates of ValBio where we eagerly made our way up to the campsite to pass out until the sun woke us the next morning.

The rest of that week I spent happily in what I've come to consider my Madagascar home - Ranomafana. There's honestly no where that I've been which I could honestly say I enjoy more. While I found that I was often without an agenda, just the serene ambiance of the forested surroundings, the fresh air, and the (unseasonably) warm sun beating down on the area was enough to keep me content for any period of time. Again my time was split between walks in different forests (a trip back into Talatakaley to retrieve the flags I had set out during my research project), along the river, and down to town, all the while gazing around like an awestruck tourist - which I suppose I sort of still was, despite my having been in the area for over 2 months.

My camera is full of new pictures: many birds - I took to learning the common names of the most prevalent birds of the area - insects, people, and of course landscapes that I hoped would capture some of the spirit of the forest and town that I love so dearly.

In town that second week I ran into Jose, a familiar face from Study Abroad, not to mention a fluent English speaker (a pretty big deal when down in town). He took me to a huge waterfall that was around a kilometer from the center of town and the source of the second largest Hydro-electric power plant in Madagascar. It was gorgeous (and I was quite surprised that in my 2.5 months with Study Abroad in Ranomafana I never even knew it existed), but he explained to me that usually in December this waterfall was roaring, a foaming white cascade over the entire rock face. Yet that day we were able to walk straight up to the water and cool off beneath its meager stream.

When Friday rolled around I once again had to pack up my bags and wait on the side of the road for a bus back to Fianar. The trip was pretty hitch free, I arrived in Fianar and was more or less mobbed by people offering me a taxi ride and telling me which was the best bus to reserve a seat on for my trip to Tana the following day. Luckily Dadah was on his way to meet me at the station and it gave me a legitimate excuse to deny all offers for taxi's and immediate departures to other parts of the country.

I spent the evening again with Dadah and his family, it was great to get to see all of them again, and we spent a pleasant evening watching a Malagasy comedy and talking about environmental issues in Madagascar. The next morning my bus was to leave at 7am, so I called it a night fairly early.

The ride back to Tana seemed by far the longest bus ride I had yet traveled. Perhaps it was the lack of company in addition to the forlorn knowledge that I'd not be passing across the rolling countryside again for a long time, but the time seemed to go far too fast, yet tediously slow at the same time.

I arrived in Tana in the evening, where I met up with a friend of Dadah's who was a taxi driver. He took me to the MICET office where I had stored much of my luggage before departing 2 weeks earlier. Herman, the other Malagasy student from our Study Abroad program met me there, and helped me sort out my accommodations for the evening and following day.

That night I spent back in the Hotel Saint Laurent - the same hotel that housed all of study abroad both at the beginning and end of our program. It was again very surreal being back, only this time entirely alone. I spent the evening going through pictures, listening to my Malagasy music, and eating fresh mango's which I had purchased during the bus ride from Fianar. It was a bittersweet night, and I found sleep hard to come by when I finally settled into bed. This would be my last night here in Madagascar, and there were no bugs humming, no frogs chirpping. I had already left behind my Ranomafana home, and was now just awaiting my return to the bustling United States. How did time pass so fast.

Which brings me to today. I'm currently sitting in the MICET office, reflecting upon the last two weeks and writing this. Surprise.

Mike got back from Fort Dauphin this morning, but has been feeling ill and is therefore resting in hopes of overcoming whatever he's come down with before we board our plane for 20+ hours of travel back to the cold biting wind of New York.

It still doesn't feel like it's time to go. I'm not sure that it's really hit met yet, but within 48 hours I will be half way across the world, surrounded by vazaha in their winter coats, busy with their lives and surrounded by concrete skyscrapers.

I love you all back home, and I'm terribly eager to see you all. But gosh, I don't want that. Life here is simpler. Life here is peaceful. Life here is far more in perspective. I'm eager for the holidays, for my friends and family, and for the comfort in which I was raised. But I'm sure that as soon as I step off Flight AF6 in the JFK airport I will be far more eager to return here.

No offense.

Anyway, I may do some contemplative follow up posts. Perhaps if I feel inspired I'll transcribe some vignettes of memorable stories and adventures of my time here. But this is it for my Madagascar Vaovao. I board the plane tonight, and will then only have American News, which doesn't meet the criteria of this blog.

So veloma dear readers (Hah, I think I'm more tired that I realize). I'll see you all back in the North-Western Hemisphere. Please crank up the heat (or preferably stoke the fireplace), I'm sure I'll be freezing upon my return.