Tuesday 5 August 2008

Penultimate blog

We're almost at the end of expedition 39. As with every expedition, the last few weeks go even quicker than the first. It still seems a bit unreal to me that we won't be here any longer. I can't quite imagine not going to sleep and waking up to the sounds of the waves. I've already said goodbye to one of our Malagasy staff members - Daniel - as he's gone to Kenya for some training in running marine protected areas.
The hardest thing about saying goodbye to the Malagasy staff is that there's a really high probability that I'll never see them again. The non-Malagasy staff will, at some point, be in the UK in the future so there's a possibility of seeing them. But the chances of our local boat drivers making it to Manchester, are pretty much zero.
Axelle, our replacement, arrived on Friday. I was a little nervous to meet the woman who was going to take over. I wanted to hand over to someone likeable and capable, but at the same time there was a little insecurity about it too. I didn't want her to be so good that it looked like we weren't up to the job.
Happily, she is a really lovely woman, and human too. We're in the middle of training her right now and I'm sure she'll be great but I don't feel intimidated by her or by that.

I've done a couple of lovely dives in the last week, each time aware that I'm probably saying goodbye to that dive site. We did a lovely dive on Recruitment, though it was actually supposed to be on THB but a current took us to there instead. As I also did a dive to THB as well, I'm pretty chuffed because it meant that I got to say goodbye to both of those dive sites - which have a very high percentage of hard coral cover. I saw an octopus this week too, which is always a treat. It's great to see them changing colour. It's better than many film special effects. :)
On the day off, Justin and I took a sailing pirogue out to one of the islands north of Andavadoaka. We took a packed lunch with us and had a lovely, lazy day out on the pirogue. We landed on Nosy Matata which is a tiny, rocky island with a few bushes, cactuses and trees and even a few mangroves. You could walk around it in less than ten minutes.
Despite its size, it is still home to two tiny settlements of people with around four grass huts or so in each settlement. We saw a bunch of women returning from octopus gleaning with a bucket full of octopus. I was surprised to see the octopuses (or is it octopi?) still changing colour in the bucket even though they must have been dead. It was a really enjoyable day out and I'm glad I finally did it as it's been on my todo list for months.

Finally, we held the concert in the village on Saturday. It took place on the front of the Club Alo Alo building and our staff organised lots of benches from the primary school to be taken onto the beach. As per usual there were about three hundred children there, but happily, there were also some adults as well including a few of the village nahodas, the staff from Coco Beach and a few other village personalities.
BV kicked off the gig with a rendition of the sixties song, da do ron ron. I'd taught it - and two harmonies - to the volunteers three weeks ago. They were pretty sceptical initially about their ability to sing in harmony, but happily, with plenty of practice, they managed to make a lovely sound. Just before we went on, Gildas gave us blue sarongs to wear. As predicted, the audience loved it and clapped and laughed at us singing and dancing.
The second number was one of James's Club Alo Alo songs and we'd learned it all in Malagasy. They laughed and clapped quite a lot to that, especially when they realised that we'd be singing the whole song in Malagasy. The biggest laughs however were reserved for the dancing section at the end of the song. The women drew some loud guffaws and chuckling, but the men were rewarded with full on hysterical laughter which was so catchy that we all ended up laughing along too. I think that's one of the cultural things I'll really miss about here - the way that laughing at people is not cruel, but a sign of acceptance and joy. Because it's done with those intentions, the person being laughed at usually ends up laughing with them.
I performed a Scottish folk song after the BV crew did their thing. James had learnt the guitar part and I stood on the concrete veranda of the building and used a microphone. The sun was shining right into my eyes, but I could still just about make out the audience who were scarily silent for the duration of the song. I did not draw any laughter at all in fact which I'm not sure is a good thing or not! They did applaud me when I finished though. As the song was about the sea, I thought it appropriate to sing, and though I was completely terrified, I'm still glad I did it. Gildas briefly explained that it was about the sea before I began. Looking out to sea, singing the words "the tide, at thy head and feet, the wind about thy shoulders" never seemed more appropriate, even if most of the audience would not have understood the words.
The rest of the acts were varied and entertaining. The women's association did three songs that they'd prepared - including one especially for us to say goodbye. They'd all dressed up with make up and glitter on their faces and looked amazing. Madame Ziza made a short speech beforehand thanking us for our work for the women's association and presenting us with a present each (matching shirts in orange and blue garish pattern). I was quite overcome and thanked them. Following the WA, there were two groups (mostly related to James) who sang and danced, Angelo's wife who sang alone, and Vivienne (the lady who does the washing) who sang with three young girls.
They also sang a song wishing us well and saying goodbye to us. :) It was lovely. Finally, there was a band with drums and Madagascan homemade guitar. They were pretty charismatic and their dancing was furnished with lots of arse shaking, drawing more laughter from the crowd. Finally, elina came on again with her two friends and danced to two epi-bar songs. It had been a wonderful concert - what I'd imagined and more - and a great way to end our time here.

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