A Road to Emmaeus

Almost a month has passed since I arrived in Madagascar. I feel that the mystery of this country has started to peel away as I’ve settled into a routine of sorts. My French continues to improve, and I now have little difficulty carrying out daily business with my finance and office managers. I also chaired my first business meeting in French with one of our subcontractors, and my nightmare scenario – being fielded a question that I don’t understand – didn’t materialize. The attendees understood everything, and I answered all of their questions. In the end, I was surprised by how easy it was. I have never before been forced to use French as my primary day to day language, so I am certainly profiting from this experience. As in Burundi and Mali, the French-speaking ability of the locals varies tremendously based on education. It is sometimes difficult for me to understand taxi drivers due to their heavy accents (though they can understand me perfectly).

I’ve met two expats so far: Mariko, a Japanese international development consultant, and Fuat, a Turkish engineer (in the interest of privacy, I’m not using their real names). I was quite happy to find both of them to be kind, inquisitive, and as curious about Madagascar as I am. Mariko has been in the country for about three months, while Fuat moved to the country over a year ago. Last weekend, over a platter of zebu and fish brochette and rum-based drinks (evidently the local rum industry has a strong reputation), we enjoyed an interesting conversation about history, culture, and politics. One of my takeaways from this is that one’s perception of history is largely shaped by one’s country of origin, especially when it comes to war. Acts considered justified in one country are often regarded as immoral by other countries; two examples being the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and the deportation and massacre of Armenians in Turkey during and after World War I. I think the natural tendency of people is to default to nationalist narratives, in which one’s own country is the protagonist of the story and acts rightly to defend itself against aggression. Meeting people from other countries forces one to examine one’s own preconceived notions, which is one reason why I love making international friends. It’s also an opportunity to be an ambassador of one’s own culture; this is how I felt when explaining the Christian liturgical calendar and the meaning of Pentecost, and in emphasizing (with some pride, I will admit) that American identity is inclusive of all immigrant groups and is not tied to any single race or ethnicity. Sometimes American exceptionalism is a point of embarrassment – our absurd health care costs and appalling levels of gun violence being two notable examples – but I don’t shy away from celebrating the great things about America.

The topic of globalization inevitably came up. America, as I am continuously learning, is effortlessly exporting its cultural brand around the world. We don’t even have to try to do this; it just happens. I learned from Mariko that Japan has started to celebrate the American holiday of Thanksgiving (for commercial reasons) with turkeys appearing in their supermarkets – jokingly, I said that I was “deeply offended” at this kind of cultural appropriation. Overall, I am very thankful to have made new friends who share my desire to connect with others, and I hope to continue to expand this network in the coming weeks and build some semblance of community here.

I finally did manage to attend a church service last Sunday. It’s called Tana City Church, and it was founded by South African missionaries. The community meets in the British School in Ivandry, a hilly neighborhood in north Tana that is known for its expat residences and villas. There were about thirty or forty people in attendance – mostly Malagasies, with a sprinkling of South Africans. We sang worship songs in French, English, and Malagasy. The congregation responded most enthusiastically to the songs in their native language – which they clearly knew by heart – and the worship band impressed me: acoustic and base guitars, a keyboard, and a box drum. The guest pastor, Craig, is South African and is married to a Malagasy woman. He preached in English, while his wife provided the translation in Malagasy. The full time pastor is currently on holiday, but hopefully I’ll have a chance to connect with him in the coming weeks. After the service, I met Joshua, a young Malagasy man and one of the worship leaders. We spoke in French and English; his English was surprisingly good, the best so far that I’ve heard in Madagascar, and I learned that I he studied in South Africa for a year. I mentioned that I also play guitar, so perhaps I’ll have the chance to jam with him sometime. One of my goals here is to find local musicians to jam with and possibly make a few recordings I can bring back home.

The food situation here continues to improve, and my fridge and cupboard have now been stocked with products both new and familiar: loads of fresh vegetables, peanut butter, coconut milk, curry powder, and honey from Madagascar’s famous baobab trees. There are three main supermarkets in the city: Jumbo, Shopright, and Leader Price. The Jumbo across from my office has an excellent bakery where I can buy French pastries and freshly-baked baguettes at rock bottom prices: less than $1 for my personal favorite, pain au raisin. The Shoprite at La Cite shopping center boasts the best selection of fresh fruits and veggies I’ve seen (aside from Analakely market), which includes imported items like oranges and ruby red grapefruit. I’ve noticed that imported goods, like grapefruit, dates, olive oil, and most cheeses, are far more expensive than locally sourced foods; indeed, prices for these items are comparable to what you would pay at an American supermarket. For the most part, I’ve been able to buy most of the foods that I use back home. Dried lentils are easy to find, all of the major temperate-climate vegetables are available (though kale sadly doesn’t exist here), and chickpeas eluded me until I found a few cans at Analakely market. Due to poor experiences with supermarket meat in my first week (i.e. food poisoning), I have moved to a mostly vegetarian diet at home. The only meats that I’m buying currently are chorizo and dried sausage imported from Europe. Madagascar does have locally produced cheese, which works well as a parmesan substitute. As for milk, Shoprite has a Polish brand of whole milk that has proven serviceable. I have a gas stove at home and an oven, as well as a wide variety of kitchen utensils, so I feel very fortunate that I can prepare just about anything that I could back home.

The best meal I’ve made so far is pesto with spaghetti noodles. I found basil at Analakely market, and blended it with cashews, olive oil, garlic, and grated cheese. The result was at least equal to any pesto I’ve made at home, if not better. I mixed the pesto with spaghetti and a handful of whole cashews, then made a rudimentary tomato sauce by boiling down whole tomatoes with olive oil and garlic. The tomatoes at the market are quite good; bright red, succulent, and almost without blemish. The pesto with noodles was inspired by a meal I enjoyed at a restaurant downtown a few weeks ago; it will surely be one of my staples over the next few months.

For fresh fruits and vegetables, Analakely market remains the best place to go. You certainly can’t beat the variety: dozens of vendors selling almost every vegetable you can think of – beets, tomatoes, potatoes, carrots, basil, lettuce, green beans, eggplant, sweet peas – as well as tropic fruits like pineapple, bananas, papayas, guavas, coconuts, and avocados. All of the prices are negotiable, and everything is cheap. A kilogram of tomatoes, for example, costs less than $1. The market also has a vast flea market of sorts, where you can find just about anything: clothes, shoes, household appliances, nutritional supplements, hardware equipment, and kitchen ware, to name just a few. I set out with the intention of finding an oven-worthy wok or skillet, and found exactly that for about $4 – an artisanal piece that looks to have been beaten into shape in someone’s backyard.

After a month, I am starting to appreciate the reality that I have in fact moved to a different country. I have about six and a half months remaining until I complete my assignment and can return to my life back in the States. By the first of December, I know I’ll be ready to come back; already, the first signs of homesickness are starting to creep in, which is about what I expected. In the meantime, though, I want to soak in this new country as much as possible. I am tentatively planning two trips outside of Tana, though I’m not yet sure where I’ll go or when. There are rainforests in the northeast, tropical beaches on the island of Nosy Be in the northwest, and rugged desert landscapes in the southwest. So much remains to discover, and there’s sadly not enough time to see it all.