We rode our bicycles to bar Florida. It is a yellow building with a broad terrace where several crowded tables are clustered. Our table was overflowing with French, Malagasy, and American people. At the center of attention was Matthew, the American peace corpse volunteer who had just returned from a 12 day trek through Masoala national park. His stories were riveting and hilarious. Languages faded from English to French to Malagasy as the night got quieter outside the bar. Restaurants closed, other bars closed, throngs of men walked past the bar on the street below. Camille and I left with Ali and Patricia. Ali comes originally from Somalia. He lived on ships for many years in the import export business. His stories from the sea about pirates and fish and stir-craziness and ship culture are unbelievable. We drove to his beautiful house with tropical gardens stretching all the way to the beach. We sat on the steps above the fountain as the moon disappeared and the first rays of light punctured clouds over the sea. Maybe I was awake or maybe dreaming as light filled the sky and the sun appeared as an orange ball and we ran to the sea and swam.
I was too tired to sleep when I got back to the house. The sun was already high in the morning sky. I couldn’t stop thinking about this one patient in Belfort village whose ulcer is complicated (infected bone) and who is at risk of permanent damage and possible amputation. It was Saturday and I knew Modest would not be working this day but I wanted to tend to this one patient so I rode my bicycle over to Belfort. It was hard to find her. I searched the village before asking Victoire, the school teacher, to help me find the patient. She arrived and patiently soaked her foot in a diluted bleach solution for 20 minutes. Then I cleaned and dressed the ulcer. I met John, another peace corps volunteer, who lives in the Belfort leprosy village. He has started a little mango project which is quite resourceful. He noticed that there are way more mangos than can be consumed before rotting so he devised a plan to preserve them in the village and then sell the preserved mango “chips” in town. This gives the village people a means to earn money. Economic incentives are often the best in development. The villagers would build drying stations out of corrugated plastic roofing tiles with a wooden frame over which clear plastic could be secured. The intense malagasy sun shining into these mini greenhouses would cook the mangoes in 1.5 days. I watched women peel and cut mangoes into slices that they then placed in the drying device. They can produce kgs of mango chips and sell them all throughout the fall market (it’s summer here and mango season ends soon).
I rode back to the Belle Rose bungalow. Patricia, Camille, and Ali had bought rice and shrimp lunch. We ate and talked for a long time. Then it was time for me to prepare the dinner I was making for Dr. Abdoul, his wife, Jebian, and Eric Lan. We made coco-fish, tomato sauce beans, potatoes with rosemary and olive oil, rice, freshly opened coconuts, and mango dessert. The dinner was delicious. I had hoped Dr. Abdoul would discuss medicine in Madagascar with Eric Lan who wants to be a doctor, but the discussion unfortunately went in another direction. More about this perhaps another time.
Tracing Leprosy 