Sumit

happy and healthy Sumit

Dear Friends,

remember Sumit from my blogging in India? He is the little 8-yr old who came to the hospital in critical condition but got better with medicine, music, and art. Sadly his disease relapsed and he was readmitted to the Naini leprosy hospital. He could not stay for the course of his treatment because he can’t pay for the medical bills, so he went back to his village. It is critical that he gets the medical attention he needs. I have decided to cover his medical costs from my personal funds. I’m not sure how long I will be able to keep him in the hospital. I am asking for your support to keep Sumit in the care he needs. If you would like to help Sumit, please contribute any amount, big or small, at this link:  http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/305452/x/2019454.

Sumit, as you can see in pictures from earlier posts, is a very special person in my life. I want him to have a chance and this is a real way to give him that chance.

Thank you very much,

Daniela

Andasibe

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I wanted to get out of Eva’s hair for a few days even though she insists I am no imposition  (I’ve been here for two weeks) so I planned a small trip to Andasibe. Eva is very careful and when she went over the plan with me she decided it would not be safe for me to travel alone on the taxi brousse to Andasibe, so she asked their longtime maid, Mamaline, to accompany me. Mamaline said she would love a short vacation so it worked out perfectly; she would get a little vacation and I would be safe. Mamaline is 62, but she appears to be in her 40’s because she is so alive and the smile that dances in her eyes is so young and full of adventure. We walked down the crowded streets of Antananarivo, weaving between cars, people, stuff being sold, and all the terrible chaos of a city.  Down, down, down to the bottom of the monstrous hill where the taxi brusse station waited. When the ground became flat and we started seeing taxi brousses parked and being loaded with strange things and far too many people for the seats,  a swarm of boisterous and aggressive taxi drivers surrounded us on all sides. They were yelling in Malagasy. They grabbed our shoulders to get our attention. They poked and pointed and yelled too much. This is why Eva wanted Mamaline to join me. Chaos. I have never seen anything like this and I have lived in India for four months. This was completely insane. Mamaline caught my eye and winked. Ha-hah she laughed, we go to the ticket counter. Even at the counter, men were grabbing at Mamaline (they had begun ignoring me once they realized I was Mamaline’s tag-along). She somehow managed to slide money under the counter and secure two tickets to Andasibe. We pushed through the crazy people in search of the Kafimanga brousse that would bring us to our transfer station in Moramanga. It was a blue bus as the name kafi-‘MANGA” meaning blue) suggests. I sat by the window on a then empty bench. People trickled in for about 40 minutes until every body and piece of luggage was nicely squished on board. The bus rolled out of the station into Tana traffic. I stared out the window growing sleepy from the bumpy ride, lack of oxygen, and heat. I dozed or almost dozed until we reached Moramanga. This was similar madness. On another Kafimanga we sat at the edge of our seats excited for our imminent arrival into the tropical forest of Andasibe. The girl behind me vomited into a blue plastic bag. My first impulse was to lean forward for fear of becoming the blue plastic bag when the bus bumped or rounded a bend, but on second impulse I turned around and said: Ca Va” ? you OK? She and her boyfriend said “oui, oui” and the vomit never landed on me (miraculously). I think it was motion sickness.

Mamaline pointed to a sign “Andasibe —>” I squirmed in my seat. The bus stopped and we hurried off it before it was too late. We walked to our hotel Feon ny Ala. After dropping off our small packs, we decided to search for bicycles (Mamaline is a serious bicyclist!). We walked and walked only to discover that the only hotel that actually rents bicycles was our very own. We headed to the national park to gather information for tomorrow’s big hike. You have to go with a guide. Ugh. I made arrangements to meet a guide early the next morning. I wasn’t thrilled about this, but it is the only way here. We went for dinner. Mamaline insisted on a traditional Malagasy restaurant and when I tried to eat there I discovered they had no vegetarian options so I had to go eat at the hotel instead. I ate alone (I am becoming an expert). I talked to a French couple about hiking together the next day maybe. The forest right beyond the balcony of the restaurant was alive with the birds’ last calls for the day, lemurs being territorial, crickets chirping to find each other, cicadas, and too close to my ears, the  incessant hum of the mosquito. We turned in early, drifted off to the sounds of a tropical forest full of nocturnal creatures.

I woke around 6 but the sky was already light. There was mist everywhere. The lemurs were hollering to each other. I can imitate the brown lemur expertly now that I listened to them whine for three days. I hurried to breakfast where I enjoyed coffee and eggs and watched lemurs dangling from trees and birds flashing their red under-wing feathers. Feeling nicely full and ready for a trek I set off at a fast clip for the park entrance. I found my guide and we were off… well, not really. We were off in search of breakfast for the guide because he apparently didn’t want to have breakfast before the hike but wanted to go out to eat during the hike. After he finished, we walked back to the entrance of the park and began the “medicinal plant hike”. I chose this one hoping that he would show me plants that can be used to heal ulcers. And he did! The forest is a pharmacopeia of exotic plants. The skin diseases that I saw everyday in India have medicines growing in this forest: tinea ungium, tinea corporis, syphilis, leprosy, other maladies like yellow fever, headaches, profuse bleeding, among others. I practiced recognizing potos scandise,  a vine whose leaves can be crushed into a compress to heal ulcers in leprosy. I will search for this plant in Antalaha.

I spent part of the afternoon at the top of a mountain beneath tall iupak trees where two Indri lemurs enjoyed a leafy lunch. They were not at all concerned with me. These partners were about 40 yrs old so I am sure they have seen plenty of harmless tourists like me before, snapping, staring, pointing, not budging. The Indri can live to be 80 years old. They are intelligent and the Malagasy people consider them to be sacred. The legend goes that a little boy was playing in the forest and became ill and fell down. The Indri, watching him from the trees above were concerned with the boy. They descended down from their perches and scooped him up and carried him back to his village. The people in the village called the lemur babakodo for father of the forest. Looking at these monogamous, gentle, venerable vegetarians I can imagine the legend vividly. In the Vakuna ecosystem of a single plant I saw a 3D spiderweb, a lizard, snakes, chameleons, praying mantis, cricket, cicadas. There is a ringing in the forest that sounds like someone is drilling into your brain.

Christmas.

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Eva’s family is incredible. They are kind, funny, witty, and so relaxed. We had a wonderful Christmas together. Hors d’œuvres! So many beautiful fancy little dishes because Eva is a chef at heart and took some cooking classes. That meant that at her house, on her heels in the kitchen, I took some cooking classes. This is not my specialty. I say “It’s not my field”. I am a bad cook and I always will be. But I am an excellent appreciator of fine cuisine and in this I excelled over the Christmas holiday. I enjoyed vegetarian Foie gras, assorted French and Malagasy cheese with star-shaped bread, creme fresh with tropical fruits, sea foods on tiny sticks with tiny dipping sauces, Buche de Noel, homemade strawberry sorbet, and my own meek contribution, beet roots with garlic and olive oil. We went to their grandparents’ house for Christmas lunch. They have two giant tortoises that wander amidst lychee, mango, pomegranate, and apple trees in the most beautiful tropical garden I have ever seen.

We went to several Christmas concerts over the holiday week. The first was an orchestral concert. The second a Christmas carol arrangement in the old train station. It was a warm beautiful concert. There were little lights and families and familiar songs. The third was a formal Christmas concert in the mayor’s house in Antananarivo center. The last was possibly my favorite because it was traditional Malagasy songs in Eva’s family church. That was great. The last song was a joke and all the chorus dressed up in different costumes. I saw a police man, Michael Jackson, an angel, a doctor, an Indian lady, an Egyptian, a chef, a traditional south Madagascar lady, and dozens of other representatives. Hilarious.

The hike

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I was itching to stretch my legs and take a few breaths of fresh air after all the congestion of the big city, not to mention the constant hassle from eager pick-pockets. The only way to do it was to hire a tour guide who would facilitate the chaotic transportation by buses (multiple buses that operate by some secret code that Malagasy people understand perfectly and new foreigners can’t fathom) and who knew where the trails were and where they led and which buses to take home when the trails ended. Traveling alone is one of the hardest things. It isn’t so much the loneliness of it that is problematic. It is the practicality and most notably the safety. Since the political conflicts and strikes of 2009, Madagascar has become somewhat unsafe for the traveler who fits my profile (female, alone, unable to speak the native languages, on a budget). Actually, sometimes being in my position is really hard. There is so much I want to do here in this unbelievably beautiful part of the world but I cannot because my hands are tied. If only I had a traveling companion! Eva explained that taking a bus alone with my obviously foreign appearance and having to carry a lot of cash because there are no mastercard ATMs where I am going makes me a big red target that the thieves will certainly hit. They are waiting at the bus stations because it is the season when maids leave the big city with their salaries and head for their home villages for holiday. The thieves pick them out of the crowd and steal their cash. So she continued, ” the thieves are there now waiting and you will come along and they will target you.” I thought about what I would do to prevent this. Eva told me never to fight the thieves. If they want something, give it to them because sometimes they have guns and will shoot you. Sometimes they will shoot you after they take your money anyways. The fact that I am alone immediately paints the red circle around me and I become the gleaming red and white target. To change the “traveling alone” status you have to meet people who don’t have jobs, who have enough money to travel, and who want to. This means for the most part your traveling companion will not be a local (my Malagasy family for instance can’t go around with me because they have jobs and the kids are too young), but rather a fellow traveler. To meet travelers you have to stay in expensive hotels/hostels and then you miss hanging out with locals. But that is only if you are lucky enough to meet and talk to the fellow travelers in the hotel/hostel. In my case, with no opportunity to meet other travelers and unable to bear another minute in the chaos and pollution of the city I had to hire a guide to get me out of town and into the mountains. The hike was absolutely beautiful. It was very strange to have a hiking companion whom you don’t know at all and have met only in the context of business: I am paying this man to take a walk with me?

Yes, that is how Madagascar works. You always need to pay a guide to experience the beauty of nature. What if I want to enjoy nature by myself? No, I must bring along a stranger who might be genuinely friendly, or professional, or manipulative. When I live in Antalaha I will find secret entrances into the forests so that I can have a peaceful experience outside. Plus the guides stop too much. I like going on a HIKE, not a nature stroll. Maybe I will become a guide and take myself on a hike and pay myself. : )

Raoul Follereau

I found out at Air Madagascar that there were no flights to Antalaha until Dec. 29th. Wow.  I was not prepared for a two week long delay in the capital city. I tried to figure out how to take a bus but it turns out there are no direct buses and it being the rainy season, some of the roads that I have to take between cities are washed out. So I accepted that I would not reach Antalaha until the 29th. Rija told me I could work on my project here in the capital city because the Raoul Follereau Foundation for leprosy is right in town. He knew about this because some of his relatives had been involved in leprosy relief work. Small world. So the next day he drove me to the Follereau office and I waited there for the secretary to return from her lunch break. When she came back i explained the purpose of my visit and she said I better wait for the director to return. I ended up waiting for nearly 4 hours but when he arrived, the busy French director had very interesting things to say. He told me that there are more than 30 sites in Madagascar where leprosy care is provided. He said the Follereau Foundation has many vehicles and even a private jet for transportation to the various sites. He told me that I could fly around to the different sites with him when he returns to Madagascar from holiday. This opened my project up. Before I was imagining an India situation: I would commit to one leprosy hospital and learn about the leprosy situation in the country from the perspective of the hospital. Now I started imagining a broad survey of leprosy in Madagascar,  from top to bottom, flying from site to site on the Follereau jet. It was unfortunate timing that the director was leaving the country right when I found out about the Follereau Foundation, but I will connect with the foundation again when the director returns.

Into Madagascar

I carried my  TLM brief case up the stairs of a small plane that would take us from the sunshine and blue skies of South Africa to the mammoth island of Madagascar. People on the the runway were friendly and talkative; even though they were all strangers to each other, they chatted as if they were old friends. I sat down by the window in 16F next to a passenger who had brought only an elaborate hat as his carry-on. Ironically, when the stewardess came to check that all luggage was stowed and seats were in their upright positions, it was my friend who had only carried a hat onto the plane who had trouble stowing his luggage. I smiled as he  nervously pushed and shoved the stubborn hat under the seat.

The passenger on the other side of the hat guy said,” Bonjour” and I didn’t know it then, but she would become the most important person I met in my first experience of Madagascar. Her name is Eva. Halfway through the flight she switched with the hat guy so that we could talk next to each other. Eva told me about Madagascar, how before 2009 it was a safe and prosperous country. The people where happy and could find work for the most part. However, in 2009 the political crisis unfolded with strikes and a transitional president who greedily and tenaciously took office. The president’s  efforts to prolong his seat and his refusal to arrange for elections has led international support groups to revoke funding. Now unemployment is high, schools and hospitals are underfunded, roads are crumbling  (later walking through the streets of Antananarivo I would discover gaping holes in the road that I imagined with horror might claim some of the throngs of children roaming through the streets). Nights in Antananarivo are dangerous and dark because the government’s refusal to keep street lights working has encouraged crime in the cover of darkness. Those are things I would discover later, but in the plane Eva spoke about some of the recent changes in Madagascar as well as the climate, terrain, about her family and work. I told her about my time in India and my sketchy plan to take a bus to Antalaha. She suggested I drive home with her because she lives near the Peace Corps base and they might be able to give me suggestions as an American traveler.

Customs was a breeze in Madagascar. I handed my passport to the smiling customs staff and he said, ” Bien venue.” Eva and I gathered our luggage from the carousal. Rija, her husband was waiting for her by the exit. We drove around the city for some sight-seeing from the car. The city of Antananarivo is built on a huge hill with the Queen’s palace at the very top. Juicy red, yellow, big and small mangoes and pink lychees, papayas, guavas, carrots, vanilla, aloe were spilling out of  baskets on the sides of the streets.

A big storm was gathering in the thick clouds above our heads. We drove to Eva’s house and later I knocked on the well-protected Peace Corps gates. The guard didn’t want to let me in without a Peace Corps identification card but I gave him my passport and told him I didn’t speak French. He obliged and led me to the club house. I peered inside. Five Americans lounged on puffy couches with apple computers on their laps. They barely looked up from their computers when I entered. I introduced myself, expecting fellow Americans to be excited about meeting each other on the other side of the world, but they seemed completely bored. I asked if they knew where I could stay, what kinds of transportation they usually take, about safety and interesting places to visit, but their responses were lazy and rather unhelpful. I stood there in the doorway shocked  by their indifference. Is this what the Peace Corps is like?  A crowd of indifferent Americans who flock to some exotic part of the world and lounge around in a luxury club house on the computer? I left.

It was pouring rain outside and in the minutes it took me to reach the gate of Eva’s house I was soaked from head to toe. They hurried me inside and Eva suggested that I just stay with them. They had to go to a family event that evening so I stayed in and fell asleep by 8pm.

Monday morning I drove with Eva and her daughter to work (the bank). I got my Simm card and continued into town. We bought Christmas decorations and wandered around the town. After shopping in the crowded market (and having my camera case successfully pick-pocketed) I went to Hotel De France for a coffee. I sat on the terrace in the shade watching the busy street, reading my book, and sipping on delicious coffee. I felt so free. After coffee I set off on a walking tour of Antananarivo. I took the yellow circuit which passes many historic churches and structures. I met a wonderful older woman in the first church I saw. She wanted to teach me Malagasy lessons everyday for some fee. It sounded very nice at the time and I don’t know why I didn’t take her up on it. I regret this.

She walked with me up to the top of the hill to the Queen’s Palace. I was worried about the long walk because she was old and had an issue with her pancreas as well as edema in her feet. She told me about her family and the difficulties they face. How she does not have enough money to send her son to school, a sentiment many Malagasy people are suffering since the strikes in 2009. Maybe I could have helped her out giving her some work for two weeks but somehow the weeks in Antananarivo unfolded differently and I never contacted her. I regret this very much.

I met Eva’s husband in the market and bought mangoes for the whole family. We went on a long walk up the hill of Antananarivo. I ate my first Sulu Vulu (corn role wrapped in corn leaves). We drove home and ate fish dinner all together.

South India

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I travled to south India, visiting Mumbai, Goa, and Kerala. Pictures and Stories to follow (in a hotel in Madagascar with weak internet signal).

Supporting the leprosy mission hospital

Dear readers, I really appreciate your interest and responses as I write about my experiences in the leprosy clinic here in India. I have been here for about 4 months and have seen the incredible work that goes on here. I just wanted to open up the possibility for those who can and wish to support the hospital to do so.  The problem is that since the leprosy elimination status in India is erroneously fewer than one in 10,000 (so “leprosy has been eliminated in India”) the hospital is not getting enough support from foreign groups to provide the quality of care the patients need.  If you can, please send any amount to  https://leprosy.secure-donor.com/donate?source=11ing and make sure you specify TLM Naini in India. I know that the work that goes on in this hospital is transforming people’s lives (it transformed mine).