This week I also managed to tick off a few things from my before I leave tick-list.
One of them was to do some table coral measuring on a dive site called Cloisters. We went there on Wednesday and I had a really gorgeous dive there measuring table corals and getting exciting over the variety and abundance of coral. It is a very colourful and pretty site and one of my favourites.
I also logged my 500th dive on Friday on a dive site near the sandy coral island of Andramambala. I'd gone there with five volunteers, Louis (field scientist) and Thomas as our boat driver. It was quite an eventful trip overall. It was extremely calm when we left Andavadoaka's poo beach at 7am on Thursday morning, but by the time we arrived on the island, the waves had picked up and it was pretty rough. We dropped off our stuff and went for our first dive on the reef that we were surveying.
Before the dive, my Lizzie's high pressure hose burst and she had to use the spare
regulators. Then on the dive, her tank slid off and I had to reattach it.
The dive site wasn't very interesting and the swell made doing science quite tricky. Lizzie lost her fin as we got back on the boat after the dive. Oops.
Unfortunately that wasn't all of our bad luck. The weather picked up so that by the time we got back in, it was really rough and very windy. I was too cold to go back in for a second dive. Thomas filled up the tanks (we'd taken a small compressor with us) and we went back out for the next dive with Lizzie (my buddy) and I as boat marshals. But then the high pressure hose on Louis' kit burst! So he had to use my regulator to dive. Luckily, by the time they descended the wind had died down and that dive was uneventful and we got back to the island safely in time for lunch. One of the women on the one of the tiny settlements had cooked us beans and rice.
Afterwards Alec - a lovely young man (as many of our young male volunteers have been) - and I went for a walk and took my binoculars. We spotted two whales while sat on sand dunes looking out to sea. That evening, we made a fire and the lady who'd cooked for us earlier and her family brought us dinner of octopus, fish soup, rice, two kinds of fish and omelette. What a feast. We made a fire and told stories and then slept out by the stars. The only thing marring this rather pleasant experience was a persistent smell of poo. I wasn't too cold as I slept in all my clothes and my sleeping bag, but woke up a few times to put my woolly hat back on.
We woke on Friday morning and munched on some biscuits before heading out to dive a site that BV has only dived once before. We were now down to five divers as we'd lost two sets of regulators the day before so there were two boat marshals.
On the way out to the site, Thomas called out that there was a whale (or two) in the distance. I didn't manage to see it. But as we were descending on our dive, all of us could clearly hear the whale song. It was an eery sound. Sort of booming and out of tune. It was extremely exciting to hear though.
Then, about five minutes into the dive Roger - a 64 year old American volunteer - pointed out a green turtle on a ledge just below us. We had a really good sighting of it as it woke up, sleepily assessed the situation, looked around and then lazily swam off. The dive continued to be enjoyable after that as I found lots of little flatworms and nudibranchs to engrosse me. The site was interesting but there were very very few fish and only 10% live coral cover. We heard the whale song again later on during the dive. I looked out into the distance but did not see it.
That dive had been so good, I thought our run of bad luck had ended but on the second dive, Lizzie went through her air in about 7 minutes (we think there was something wrong with her kit as well) and ended her dive early and then I was quite discombobulated and while untangling a tape measure managed to let go of the SMB (surface marker buoy) and so we had to abort the dive as per BV protocol. Luckily, it was picked up by the boat marshal. The dive lasted a total of 20 minutes for me. It was my 500th and I shall probably remember it - though not for the right reasons! The 499th was more positively memorable.
Our underwater concert wasn't the only whale encounter this week. Most of the group us saw one half way between the shore and the horizon on Tuesday over breakfast. We were able to see it quite well with binoculars and saw it breach quite a few times. There were also sightings by divers after their dives on two separate occasions. Justin and I also had some very good sightings from the whale watching platform on Nosy Hau on Sunday. We saw about seven or eight in total, including a group of three which were very active - slapping their fins and coming half out of the water. It was exciting - despite being quite far away.
Village news
As well as being a good week for whales, it's also been a good week for peanuts and tomatoes - as both appear to be in season and in abundance in the village at the moment. There are numerous tiny stalls along the main street piled high with small tomato pyramids. Five cherry tomatoes cost less than 7p at the moment. Though sometimes the prices vary depending on who is womaning the stall and whether or not she thinks you'll pay more for them than that.
It's also been a good week for the peanut lady as she seems to have sold rather a lot of jars of home made peanut butter to this group of volunteers. She is now charging 4,000 ariary per jar (up from 3,000 last time I bought some) which is quite a lot of money (£3.30) in this village.
Meanwhile, samosa boy - the young boy who comes up to Coco Beach twice a day selling samosas to hungry BV staff and volunteers - has now apparently extended his range to selling us bok bok as well. And it's rather delicious bok bok too.
Finally, I am getting ready for my concert which will take place on 2nd August. So far, I have taught the group Da Do Ron Ron and James is teaching us one of his songs as well. Hopefully we will be more tuneful than the whales! We will rehearse every day this week. I am looking forward to it, but hope that we will have other participants from the village and an audience as well. I'll let you know all about it next week which will be my penultimate blog from site! The end, as they say, is now in sight.
Tuesday 29 July 2008
Tuesday 22 July 2008
Like footprints in the sand
I've done some nice diving this week, very aware that each dive brings me closer to my last dive here. Went surveying at THB, deep on 007, and led a navigation training dive with the advanced course. I saw a gurnard on the latter dive which is a very very cool fish to see.
Justin and I also had a lovely morning with Italo and Nina on Saturday. We paid to go out diving with them and though the dive was pretty shit - three metres visibility and a strong current meant we aborted after 15 minutes - I still enjoyed being a customer for a change! It was nice to hand over responsibility to someone else and we got to spend a few hours on the boat away from site. So it felt like a break, even if it wasn't the dive that we'd been hoping for.
Also this week was the 'medivac' operation. Becks, the medical students and a few helpful persons acted out some emergencies for us to respond to, in order to see how well we would cope under pressure, stress and if any real emergencies occurred. We did pretty well I think. They made it quite real and it was a good exercise to have done. We probably should do one each expedition.
Justin and I are not the only ones leaving. Tomorrow (Monday 21st July) Becks, our medic, leaves us. Hanta leaves too and will be missed by Lalao, her partner in crime and in seagrass surveying.
The women's association held a party last night and there was dancing and drinking and the usual epi-bar shenanigans. There were lots more drunken nahodas than usual - the togagash was flowing I think - and the old men and teenage boys a little bit more amorous in their dancing than they usually are. Justin and I stayed til about 12, when the five songs on rotation started to get a bit repetitive after the third, fourth or fifth time. We left most of the staff behind and a few of the volunteers, some of whom stayed til sunrise. There was no curfew.
I admire their tolerance - for alcohol, for being able to hear (and dance) to the same songs all night, and for putting up with the amorous men.
We retired with a few of the other volunteers to half moon beach with my ipod and speakers before heading to bed at 2am. Late for us. There's now only three more party nights left til we leave. Three weeks left til the end of the expedition. Then two more days after that. Then we leave. The clock is ticking.
When we arrived, I was hyper aware of everything - trying to take it all in and appreciate each aspect of being here. Somewhere in the middle, it began to be a bit more normal. Less remarkable. My level of awareness dipped. Now, it's back up again. Each time I trudge up the sandy hill to the batcave, I'm aware that there will be a last time for that short walk. I pay attention to the feel of the sand over my feet, to the sound of the sea and to the full moon in the night sky. It's my last full moon in Andavadoaka now.
I'm hyper aware of how the winter and dry season has changed the landscape. Walking across the football pitch on the way to the village this morning I realised that nothing now remains of the grass that grew during the brief rainy season. It's no longer a trodden down field of dusty green grass. It's back to being a very sandy dust bowl. The spiny forest is dry, and the road to the phone point sandy and hard to trudge through again. The kite flies past our hut late morning, regularly mobbed by the pied crows.
It's only been ten months, but somehow it almost feels like a full cycle of the year as things appear very similar to the way they were when we arrived. It's strange to think that the view from my hut that I've seen every day will soon be just a memory.
In ten days, my replacement will arrive and then we'll just be another two staff members from BV who came, stayed for the best part of a year and left again. Vainly, I hope that we'll be remembered positively. But who knows? I'm certain that the memories of Andavadoaka will stay longer with me than the memories of us will remain here. Since we've been here we've seen many staff members go and new ones arrive. The gap that you feel once they've left closes pretty rapidly and the staff turnover means that by this time next year, there may only be one fazahar staff member to remember us by.
Hopefully the Magalasy staff won't forget us too quickly though. I hope that I've made a positive difference overall - to BV, to the village and to the environment.
Justin and I also had a lovely morning with Italo and Nina on Saturday. We paid to go out diving with them and though the dive was pretty shit - three metres visibility and a strong current meant we aborted after 15 minutes - I still enjoyed being a customer for a change! It was nice to hand over responsibility to someone else and we got to spend a few hours on the boat away from site. So it felt like a break, even if it wasn't the dive that we'd been hoping for.
Also this week was the 'medivac' operation. Becks, the medical students and a few helpful persons acted out some emergencies for us to respond to, in order to see how well we would cope under pressure, stress and if any real emergencies occurred. We did pretty well I think. They made it quite real and it was a good exercise to have done. We probably should do one each expedition.
Justin and I are not the only ones leaving. Tomorrow (Monday 21st July) Becks, our medic, leaves us. Hanta leaves too and will be missed by Lalao, her partner in crime and in seagrass surveying.
The women's association held a party last night and there was dancing and drinking and the usual epi-bar shenanigans. There were lots more drunken nahodas than usual - the togagash was flowing I think - and the old men and teenage boys a little bit more amorous in their dancing than they usually are. Justin and I stayed til about 12, when the five songs on rotation started to get a bit repetitive after the third, fourth or fifth time. We left most of the staff behind and a few of the volunteers, some of whom stayed til sunrise. There was no curfew.
I admire their tolerance - for alcohol, for being able to hear (and dance) to the same songs all night, and for putting up with the amorous men.
We retired with a few of the other volunteers to half moon beach with my ipod and speakers before heading to bed at 2am. Late for us. There's now only three more party nights left til we leave. Three weeks left til the end of the expedition. Then two more days after that. Then we leave. The clock is ticking.
When we arrived, I was hyper aware of everything - trying to take it all in and appreciate each aspect of being here. Somewhere in the middle, it began to be a bit more normal. Less remarkable. My level of awareness dipped. Now, it's back up again. Each time I trudge up the sandy hill to the batcave, I'm aware that there will be a last time for that short walk. I pay attention to the feel of the sand over my feet, to the sound of the sea and to the full moon in the night sky. It's my last full moon in Andavadoaka now.
I'm hyper aware of how the winter and dry season has changed the landscape. Walking across the football pitch on the way to the village this morning I realised that nothing now remains of the grass that grew during the brief rainy season. It's no longer a trodden down field of dusty green grass. It's back to being a very sandy dust bowl. The spiny forest is dry, and the road to the phone point sandy and hard to trudge through again. The kite flies past our hut late morning, regularly mobbed by the pied crows.
It's only been ten months, but somehow it almost feels like a full cycle of the year as things appear very similar to the way they were when we arrived. It's strange to think that the view from my hut that I've seen every day will soon be just a memory.
In ten days, my replacement will arrive and then we'll just be another two staff members from BV who came, stayed for the best part of a year and left again. Vainly, I hope that we'll be remembered positively. But who knows? I'm certain that the memories of Andavadoaka will stay longer with me than the memories of us will remain here. Since we've been here we've seen many staff members go and new ones arrive. The gap that you feel once they've left closes pretty rapidly and the staff turnover means that by this time next year, there may only be one fazahar staff member to remember us by.
Hopefully the Magalasy staff won't forget us too quickly though. I hope that I've made a positive difference overall - to BV, to the village and to the environment.
Tuesday 15 July 2008
A quiet week
This week is possibly the first time I feel stumped for something interesting to write. It's been a busy week with only a few volunteer mishaps and one telling off, but other than that, it's been probably the most unremarkable week that I can remember.
I've been diving. I've eaten fish and beans. I've seen some lovely sunsets and I've hung out with volunteers. That is more or less it. We did have one volunteer go AWOL for a
couple of days. She'd decided that she wanted to go to a desert island for a couple of days and went with an ex-BV volunteer but did not tell any of us that she was going. She managed to send us a message the following day to say she'd be another day away. Even so, she got a good ticking off when she returned and has been 'punished' with a bunch of 6am boat marshals.
Living without phone coverage really is a bit of a bind at times. Yesterday, for example, Justin and I went to Laguna Blu for lunch. Some volunteers also went and we'd tried to send a message the previous day to let their kitchen know. However, the person didn't manage to take the message over and so we turned up unannounced. Happily, the kitchen was(just about) able to accommodate us.
Laguna Blu is really only a couple of kilometres away. Not far at all. And yet without a phone, it might as well be miles and miles away when there's no wind (or too much wind) or it's dark you want to get a message to them.
So, that's about it for this week. No bok bok making extravaganzas. No major wildlife sightings by myself (though some other volunteers did see a very enormous stingray). In fact, nothing very exciting to report at all. Just lots and lots of hard work (4am until 9.30pm last Thursday on the part of Justin) and mental arithmetic - working out the numbers for the meals with people coming and going. There are over 40 of us at dinner each night, but luckily the kitchen is keeping up, which is kind of a miracle in itself.
Next weekend, we have an STD play competition, a women's association party and Justin and I may go and do a couple of tourist dives with Laguna Blu. So, hopefully I'll have more to report next week.
I've been diving. I've eaten fish and beans. I've seen some lovely sunsets and I've hung out with volunteers. That is more or less it. We did have one volunteer go AWOL for a
couple of days. She'd decided that she wanted to go to a desert island for a couple of days and went with an ex-BV volunteer but did not tell any of us that she was going. She managed to send us a message the following day to say she'd be another day away. Even so, she got a good ticking off when she returned and has been 'punished' with a bunch of 6am boat marshals.
Living without phone coverage really is a bit of a bind at times. Yesterday, for example, Justin and I went to Laguna Blu for lunch. Some volunteers also went and we'd tried to send a message the previous day to let their kitchen know. However, the person didn't manage to take the message over and so we turned up unannounced. Happily, the kitchen was(just about) able to accommodate us.
Laguna Blu is really only a couple of kilometres away. Not far at all. And yet without a phone, it might as well be miles and miles away when there's no wind (or too much wind) or it's dark you want to get a message to them.
So, that's about it for this week. No bok bok making extravaganzas. No major wildlife sightings by myself (though some other volunteers did see a very enormous stingray). In fact, nothing very exciting to report at all. Just lots and lots of hard work (4am until 9.30pm last Thursday on the part of Justin) and mental arithmetic - working out the numbers for the meals with people coming and going. There are over 40 of us at dinner each night, but luckily the kitchen is keeping up, which is kind of a miracle in itself.
Next weekend, we have an STD play competition, a women's association party and Justin and I may go and do a couple of tourist dives with Laguna Blu. So, hopefully I'll have more to report next week.
Wednesday 9 July 2008
This is the last time I'll......
Expedition 39, our final expedition, is now fully underway. It's the largest ever BV group - 23 volunteers, two researchers and two medical students.
Happily, it's a really lovely group, full of interesting, helpful and amicable people. Consequently, though it's been hectic, busy and a little bit full-on, it's also been great to have some new energy around (the last group were quite lacklustre overall). Unlike the last group, it's also much more diverse in terms of ages, with the youngest volunteer coming just after his A'levels, and the oldest being 64. So, all in all, I'm quite glad that I've got such a good group for my last expedition.
I'm trying to appreciate every minute (when I'm not too busy to appreciate anything). However, I also find that many of those minutes are tinged with sadness as I remember that this is the last time I'll be doing something - such as meeting with the nahodas (a very lively and successful evening) or dancing with the WA, or just doing the site tour with a bunch of new volunteers.
The influx of new volunteers has also brought an influx of new germs and viruses and so first Justin, and then myself were floored for a couple of days with a heavy cold and fever. Having had a holiday recently, I think my immune system is a bit more robust than Justin's who is finding it hard to fully recover.
Today (Monday) is the first of our days off this expedition. Being a list person, I had constructed a list of things I wanted to do before leaving.
I'd already started on a few of the things last expedition (going whale watching, diving on Dos De Baleine) and today I was able to tick another thing off the list as I went into the village for a bok bok making lesson.
You'll hopefully remember that bok bok are the deep fried doughnut doughy balls much loved by Andavadoakans and volunteers alike. I went down to the coffee shop opposite the supermarket and was greeted by a smiling Fastine who welcomed me into the small hut that serves as a coffee shop, and is immediately in front of her living quarters.
I sat down on the bench while she gathered the ingredients together. The children (four of them) gathered round me, a fazahar and therefore and endless source of fascination. Once the ingredients were gathered together, Fastine talked me through the process (in Malagasy).
First of all we sieved the flour into a rattan basket/bowl. Then, in a metal bowl we mixed up the sugar (two of the tomato paste tins worth), yeast, bicarbonate of soda, oil and water. We then added the flour and I got to take over, mixing it all together with a spoon until we had a big mass of dough. We then went out to the back of the hut where Fastine built a small fire and added more oil to a heavy iron pot. Once the oil was hot enough, she showed me how to make the small balls of dough which she dropped into the oil.
She prepared about eight, and then I continued with the rest - letting them fry until they turned from a vanilla colour to a dark crispy caramel. Simple. Fastine tended the small fire - I'm more used to turning knobs on hobs to control the heat - and we sat on a rattan mat on the floor while we cooked. It's a far cry from the sterile steel kitchens you see on tv cooking shows. There are flies galore, the water bottle used as a vessel to contain the oil looked old and never washed and there was a baby chicken hopping about and dodging the children, who themselves looked far from sterile.
While we were cooking, a kid goat wandered through, passed me and the fire and meandered out to the back, baaing as he went.
Gordon Ramsey would have had a field day. Still, I'm sure deep frying would have killed any possible germs and I brought twenty still-warm bok bok back for some hungover and very grateful volunteers. As Lalao said, anytime that I get homesick for Andavadoaka I can now make myself some bok bok and imagine myself back here.
Happily, it's a really lovely group, full of interesting, helpful and amicable people. Consequently, though it's been hectic, busy and a little bit full-on, it's also been great to have some new energy around (the last group were quite lacklustre overall). Unlike the last group, it's also much more diverse in terms of ages, with the youngest volunteer coming just after his A'levels, and the oldest being 64. So, all in all, I'm quite glad that I've got such a good group for my last expedition.
I'm trying to appreciate every minute (when I'm not too busy to appreciate anything). However, I also find that many of those minutes are tinged with sadness as I remember that this is the last time I'll be doing something - such as meeting with the nahodas (a very lively and successful evening) or dancing with the WA, or just doing the site tour with a bunch of new volunteers.
The influx of new volunteers has also brought an influx of new germs and viruses and so first Justin, and then myself were floored for a couple of days with a heavy cold and fever. Having had a holiday recently, I think my immune system is a bit more robust than Justin's who is finding it hard to fully recover.
Today (Monday) is the first of our days off this expedition. Being a list person, I had constructed a list of things I wanted to do before leaving.
I'd already started on a few of the things last expedition (going whale watching, diving on Dos De Baleine) and today I was able to tick another thing off the list as I went into the village for a bok bok making lesson.
You'll hopefully remember that bok bok are the deep fried doughnut doughy balls much loved by Andavadoakans and volunteers alike. I went down to the coffee shop opposite the supermarket and was greeted by a smiling Fastine who welcomed me into the small hut that serves as a coffee shop, and is immediately in front of her living quarters.
I sat down on the bench while she gathered the ingredients together. The children (four of them) gathered round me, a fazahar and therefore and endless source of fascination. Once the ingredients were gathered together, Fastine talked me through the process (in Malagasy).
First of all we sieved the flour into a rattan basket/bowl. Then, in a metal bowl we mixed up the sugar (two of the tomato paste tins worth), yeast, bicarbonate of soda, oil and water. We then added the flour and I got to take over, mixing it all together with a spoon until we had a big mass of dough. We then went out to the back of the hut where Fastine built a small fire and added more oil to a heavy iron pot. Once the oil was hot enough, she showed me how to make the small balls of dough which she dropped into the oil.
She prepared about eight, and then I continued with the rest - letting them fry until they turned from a vanilla colour to a dark crispy caramel. Simple. Fastine tended the small fire - I'm more used to turning knobs on hobs to control the heat - and we sat on a rattan mat on the floor while we cooked. It's a far cry from the sterile steel kitchens you see on tv cooking shows. There are flies galore, the water bottle used as a vessel to contain the oil looked old and never washed and there was a baby chicken hopping about and dodging the children, who themselves looked far from sterile.
While we were cooking, a kid goat wandered through, passed me and the fire and meandered out to the back, baaing as he went.
Gordon Ramsey would have had a field day. Still, I'm sure deep frying would have killed any possible germs and I brought twenty still-warm bok bok back for some hungover and very grateful volunteers. As Lalao said, anytime that I get homesick for Andavadoaka I can now make myself some bok bok and imagine myself back here.
Thursday 3 July 2008
Declining fish catches
It's been another eventful week here in Andavadoaka. I interviewed two more women from the village on Monday. Celestine, who was around 50 years old had 12 children and 23 grandchildren. Though she wasn't quite sure. Susanne, the 70 year old woman, had 11 children but she wasn't sure at all how many grandchidren or great grandchildren she had. One of her grandchildren was sat next to her on the sand as I interviewed Susanne. She looked like a teenager and was breastfeeding her baby.
The name of the women's association in Andavadoaka is "women for development" and in all the interviews, the women talk of 'developing' women or the village being more 'developed' than 'before'. But when you ask them to describe what they mean by developed and developing, they cannot elaborate. It's as if they know it's a positive concept, but they cannot actually break it down and say what it means for them.
So far, it seems that the women have more 'festivities' now, can wear trousers and clothes (compared to when Susanne was a child when they had no proper clothes at all) and are more organised with doing things. Though she claimed that life was easier for women now, this seemed to be tied in to the fact that they have more material goods now than they did before. Fish and octopus catches have declined drastically. Both women described how daily catches used to reach 20 - up to 40, but now they are averaging about 4 or 5 octopus, maybe as few as 2.
Fish catches have declined similarly and pirogues have to go further and further out, and are catching fewer and smaller fish than they used to find just in front of the village. Last week I talked about how important the WA was for providing the women with financial alternatives. Celestine and Susanne highlighted the importance of the WA for a social support and network. All the women I spoke to talked about how great it was that the WA got together and sang and danced and hosted parties.
For Celestine, the festivities were her main reason for belonging to the WA and Susanne described how a WA in another village paid for her to return here to Andavadoaka when her husband died. Celestine wished for a road to be built to Andavadoaka as it would make it easier for the women to send their products out of the village and to sell them further
afield.
Susanne meanwhile hoped for a mobile phone to communicate with her family elsewhere in Madagascar and for a TV. The most rewarding aspect of the interviews was taking the women's photos afterwards and being able to show them the photo on the back of the camera. Their hysterical laughter and pleasure at seeing themselves on screen is quite a contrast to the way most of us western women react when we see our photos.
Independence day
The day the volunteers left Andavadoaka, the rest of the BV staff hopped onto the back of a 4x4 and went inland to the village of Befandefa for the independence day celebrations. Befandefa is a village inland from Andavadoaka and the administrative capital of this small region.
The 25th was the mayor's inauguration and we got there just in time to see the inauguration ceremony. This culminated in presentations and dances from different villages in the region. Morombe donated a zebu (which was slaughtered shortly afterwards) but other gifts were somewhat less extravagent and included some flowers and from us, some cash. Charlie danced with the family of Thomas - our boat driver and her boyfriend - while Becks and I were roped into dancing and singing with the women's association of Andavadoaka. All of this took place in the dusty large square of the village. The square was lined with lots of stalls selling food (bok bok, fudge, peanut brittle) drink (beer, rum, togagasy), had a flagpole in the centre, and at the east side an awning under which all the important people (including the mayor himself) were sat on chairs, watching the entertainment. The awning was flanked by two enormous speakers out of which was pumped very loud epi-bar music throughout the morning, afternoon and night.
It was interesting to see everyone in their finest clothes and there were some very impressive suits and dresses. The entertainment was followed by 'cocktails', toasts and lunch. We all got suitably tipsy on rum or whisky and spent the afternoon hanging out in the sun and entertaining all the children (and some of the adults too) by... Well, just by existing really.
Underneath the biggest (only?) tree of the square, a man spent much of the afternoon hacking the zebu to bits with an axe watched on by the hungry eyes of dogs and goats. Angelo bought a segment which was cooked up later by his wife. It wasn't much of a holiday for her as she not only cooked for her own extended family, but all of the BV staff as well (and kindly did an omelette for us non-meat eaters). We ate in the mayor's office and hten we headed back 'out' to the bar.
It was like a proper festival, except that instead of queuing for the toilet, you to head out into the spiny forest and try and find a cactus or spiny tree to give you enough cover. Sometimes I had to walk for quite a while before stopped feeling conspicuous. The most popular drink on offer was the togagasy - cheap, cheerful and very very strong. I did not partake. There were fireworks at 8 which sent many of the crowd running away in terror (they had probably never seen them before) and then more music and dancing.
Our crowd (BV staff, both international and Malagasy) went to sleep in the mayor's office on the floor at a very lightweight time of 11pm. However, the main party didn't kick off until midnight and continued right up until about 6am! One of the first things I saw that morning was an old man (maybe in his 50s) dancing on his own to the still-playing epi-bar music. It was a sight that would not have looked totally out of place at a British festival.
I enjoyed breakfast in the sun - coffee and bok bok, and avoided the eyes of the men who were still drunk from the night before.
Independence day itself followed a similar format to the day before, except that this time, all the villages joined a parade, and marched through the village singing. The women's associations from many villages had uniforms - and the Andavadoakan women managed to find two of their (new) uniforms for Becks and I to wear. We marched through the village singing, ending up back in the square for the raising of the flag again. Then followed four hours of 'play', as Gildas put it - as each group sang or danced or both to two songs. Sadly, the programme ran too far behind for the women's association of Andava to get their turn. I was most disappointed by this, especially as many groups were not really singing, just dancing to epi-bar tunes. However, there were a few groups who were very tuneful and fun to watch, so we were entertained for much of the time.
After a late lunch, the final of the football tournament took place on a massive football pitch. Andavadoaka played Lamboara. It was quite a lacklustre game really - possibly as a
result of the party the night before - and unfortunately, we lost on penalties. Gildas missed one, which was quite upsetting to watch. Being English, I'm not unfamiliar to losing a football game on penalties, but even so, it was quite hard to watch the jubilant Lamboaran sing and dance around after their final goal.
We got a lift back to Andavadoaka on a loaded 4x4 and were back in time for dinner. Much of Andavadoaka was partying again that night in the village (those that managed to get back from Befandefa), but we just could not take the pace and had an early night! I thoroughly enjoyed my first independence day in Madagascar, all the more so for being able to share it with my Malagasy colleagues. It was also particularly flattering to have been asked to participate in both of the days' events rather than just experiencing it as a spectator.
Wildlife update:
There is still plenty more positive news to counter the dead sharks and cats of recent weeks. As well as a few more whale sightings, we were extremely excited to get news from the guardian in Lamboara that the turtles that he had been guarding had hatched. Charlie zipped down there the following day and managed to get some film footage and photos of about 72 baby turtles scrambling out of the nest and into the sea.
Some of our volunteers had clubbed together to help pay for the guardian to guard the nest and so all our efforts have paid off. Sadly, only something like 1 in 10,000 turtles makes it from egg to an adult. Still, at least we've done our bit and stopped the nest from being excavated and the eggs from being eaten. Now, it's up to the turtles.
I'm also very excited to report my first ever sighting of a yellow-spotted scorpion fish, nestling in amongst some pocillopora coral. I don't know how rare it is, but I've never seen one before and it looked very cool - like a cartoon fish, red with yellow spots and big bulbous eyes. It was only about 2 or so inches long and well camouflaged.
I finally got to dive one of the deep dive sites to the south of Andavadoaka and enjoyed seeing one of the biggest groupers I've ever seen. It was probably as large as me, except with scarier looking teeth. It was hanging out with lots of other fish, who were most likely using it as protection against the school of gold spotted sweetlips that were swimming through.
The name of the women's association in Andavadoaka is "women for development" and in all the interviews, the women talk of 'developing' women or the village being more 'developed' than 'before'. But when you ask them to describe what they mean by developed and developing, they cannot elaborate. It's as if they know it's a positive concept, but they cannot actually break it down and say what it means for them.
So far, it seems that the women have more 'festivities' now, can wear trousers and clothes (compared to when Susanne was a child when they had no proper clothes at all) and are more organised with doing things. Though she claimed that life was easier for women now, this seemed to be tied in to the fact that they have more material goods now than they did before. Fish and octopus catches have declined drastically. Both women described how daily catches used to reach 20 - up to 40, but now they are averaging about 4 or 5 octopus, maybe as few as 2.
Fish catches have declined similarly and pirogues have to go further and further out, and are catching fewer and smaller fish than they used to find just in front of the village. Last week I talked about how important the WA was for providing the women with financial alternatives. Celestine and Susanne highlighted the importance of the WA for a social support and network. All the women I spoke to talked about how great it was that the WA got together and sang and danced and hosted parties.
For Celestine, the festivities were her main reason for belonging to the WA and Susanne described how a WA in another village paid for her to return here to Andavadoaka when her husband died. Celestine wished for a road to be built to Andavadoaka as it would make it easier for the women to send their products out of the village and to sell them further
afield.
Susanne meanwhile hoped for a mobile phone to communicate with her family elsewhere in Madagascar and for a TV. The most rewarding aspect of the interviews was taking the women's photos afterwards and being able to show them the photo on the back of the camera. Their hysterical laughter and pleasure at seeing themselves on screen is quite a contrast to the way most of us western women react when we see our photos.
Independence day
The day the volunteers left Andavadoaka, the rest of the BV staff hopped onto the back of a 4x4 and went inland to the village of Befandefa for the independence day celebrations. Befandefa is a village inland from Andavadoaka and the administrative capital of this small region.
The 25th was the mayor's inauguration and we got there just in time to see the inauguration ceremony. This culminated in presentations and dances from different villages in the region. Morombe donated a zebu (which was slaughtered shortly afterwards) but other gifts were somewhat less extravagent and included some flowers and from us, some cash. Charlie danced with the family of Thomas - our boat driver and her boyfriend - while Becks and I were roped into dancing and singing with the women's association of Andavadoaka. All of this took place in the dusty large square of the village. The square was lined with lots of stalls selling food (bok bok, fudge, peanut brittle) drink (beer, rum, togagasy), had a flagpole in the centre, and at the east side an awning under which all the important people (including the mayor himself) were sat on chairs, watching the entertainment. The awning was flanked by two enormous speakers out of which was pumped very loud epi-bar music throughout the morning, afternoon and night.
It was interesting to see everyone in their finest clothes and there were some very impressive suits and dresses. The entertainment was followed by 'cocktails', toasts and lunch. We all got suitably tipsy on rum or whisky and spent the afternoon hanging out in the sun and entertaining all the children (and some of the adults too) by... Well, just by existing really.
Underneath the biggest (only?) tree of the square, a man spent much of the afternoon hacking the zebu to bits with an axe watched on by the hungry eyes of dogs and goats. Angelo bought a segment which was cooked up later by his wife. It wasn't much of a holiday for her as she not only cooked for her own extended family, but all of the BV staff as well (and kindly did an omelette for us non-meat eaters). We ate in the mayor's office and hten we headed back 'out' to the bar.
It was like a proper festival, except that instead of queuing for the toilet, you to head out into the spiny forest and try and find a cactus or spiny tree to give you enough cover. Sometimes I had to walk for quite a while before stopped feeling conspicuous. The most popular drink on offer was the togagasy - cheap, cheerful and very very strong. I did not partake. There were fireworks at 8 which sent many of the crowd running away in terror (they had probably never seen them before) and then more music and dancing.
Our crowd (BV staff, both international and Malagasy) went to sleep in the mayor's office on the floor at a very lightweight time of 11pm. However, the main party didn't kick off until midnight and continued right up until about 6am! One of the first things I saw that morning was an old man (maybe in his 50s) dancing on his own to the still-playing epi-bar music. It was a sight that would not have looked totally out of place at a British festival.
I enjoyed breakfast in the sun - coffee and bok bok, and avoided the eyes of the men who were still drunk from the night before.
Independence day itself followed a similar format to the day before, except that this time, all the villages joined a parade, and marched through the village singing. The women's associations from many villages had uniforms - and the Andavadoakan women managed to find two of their (new) uniforms for Becks and I to wear. We marched through the village singing, ending up back in the square for the raising of the flag again. Then followed four hours of 'play', as Gildas put it - as each group sang or danced or both to two songs. Sadly, the programme ran too far behind for the women's association of Andava to get their turn. I was most disappointed by this, especially as many groups were not really singing, just dancing to epi-bar tunes. However, there were a few groups who were very tuneful and fun to watch, so we were entertained for much of the time.
After a late lunch, the final of the football tournament took place on a massive football pitch. Andavadoaka played Lamboara. It was quite a lacklustre game really - possibly as a
result of the party the night before - and unfortunately, we lost on penalties. Gildas missed one, which was quite upsetting to watch. Being English, I'm not unfamiliar to losing a football game on penalties, but even so, it was quite hard to watch the jubilant Lamboaran sing and dance around after their final goal.
We got a lift back to Andavadoaka on a loaded 4x4 and were back in time for dinner. Much of Andavadoaka was partying again that night in the village (those that managed to get back from Befandefa), but we just could not take the pace and had an early night! I thoroughly enjoyed my first independence day in Madagascar, all the more so for being able to share it with my Malagasy colleagues. It was also particularly flattering to have been asked to participate in both of the days' events rather than just experiencing it as a spectator.
Wildlife update:
There is still plenty more positive news to counter the dead sharks and cats of recent weeks. As well as a few more whale sightings, we were extremely excited to get news from the guardian in Lamboara that the turtles that he had been guarding had hatched. Charlie zipped down there the following day and managed to get some film footage and photos of about 72 baby turtles scrambling out of the nest and into the sea.
Some of our volunteers had clubbed together to help pay for the guardian to guard the nest and so all our efforts have paid off. Sadly, only something like 1 in 10,000 turtles makes it from egg to an adult. Still, at least we've done our bit and stopped the nest from being excavated and the eggs from being eaten. Now, it's up to the turtles.
I'm also very excited to report my first ever sighting of a yellow-spotted scorpion fish, nestling in amongst some pocillopora coral. I don't know how rare it is, but I've never seen one before and it looked very cool - like a cartoon fish, red with yellow spots and big bulbous eyes. It was only about 2 or so inches long and well camouflaged.
I finally got to dive one of the deep dive sites to the south of Andavadoaka and enjoyed seeing one of the biggest groupers I've ever seen. It was probably as large as me, except with scarier looking teeth. It was hanging out with lots of other fish, who were most likely using it as protection against the school of gold spotted sweetlips that were swimming through.
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