November 13, 2013.
I know I am beyond late with this post, but sometimes one just needs to digest and sleep after a village stay. In truth, I actually feel like I have been working nonstop ever since the 8 hour bus ride Sunday night that brought us home to Fort Dauphin. However, despite the hectic beginnings of our independent projects, I haven’t forgotten the incredible weekend that was our second surprise visit to Faux Cap.
On the last morning, we all went to see a master ombiasa (witch doctor) together to witness an exorcism of two women. I couldn’t understand a word that he said, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of the procession. I saw the wrinkle behind his right ear, flat and wide like the Mandrare riverbed, I saw how his shoulder blades shook during the manifestation causing his white overshirt to ripple down to the floor, and I saw how his skin was taught with veins and glistening like no one else’s in the room. When the mandarin music started, I saw the three flies resting on his back and when he flashed the square metal piece towards us, I could see a mirror with three smudges. Sometimes when he spoke to the spirits, nothing would move other than his lips, temples, and thinning eyelashes.
This may seem surreal. You probably can’t wrap your head around the larger image of what this manifestation signifies, and you probably won’t believe me when I say the ombiasa guessed truths about each and every one of us. But those details will rest in the tin roof hut along with the red rum and dried herbal offerings.
This weekend wasn’t a complete trip to Neverland; I was indeed in the real world for part of our three days. While some villagers believe in the inexplicable treatment of the ombiasa, some fail to find success with traditional treatments and prefer hospitals. There are two public hospitals in the commune of Faux Cap and two doctors. I had the opportunity to spend time with each doctor and realize that their work never stops. Literally, they don’t have help. The only doctor at the hospital means that they are there from 8 am to whenever the last patient leaves, monday through sunday, twelve months a year.
The hospitals of the countryside are not what you’ll find at John Hopkins or Mass General. There are chickens in and out of the office and bats in the ceiling. Yet the syringes are sterile and they have the most up to date malaria and HIV tests available. Irony is as abundant as flies here. The doctors don’t get one day of vacation, yet they prefer the security of the oceanside town to the large city. The pharmacies are always stocked even if there isn’t enough staff to administer the drugs.
So is this still what I want to do? Absolutely.
If it means coming home to a big bowl of rice and manioc, maybe I can understand how they stay sane. Above all, there is family in Faux Cap; thats what gives people hope even if they don’t find it with a witch doctor or a hospital nurse. I not only have N’Aina, Henri, and all of N’Aina’s family here, but I have my entire village and Henri’s entire village. Even if the evening marks the end of a day more difficult than any of us can imagine, the evening is when my village presents me with three coconuts. The kids carve my name into the orange coconut shells when I’m not looking, and they show me the stars. Even if the morning marks another hard day, Henri’s village welcomes us for one last dance. The six year old girls can shake their hips better than I can, and if that isn’t magic, than their voices have definitely come from Neverland. I’m not sure where we are in Madagascar, but it’s without a doubt a land of its own, in between real and witch craft, over the mountains and through the spiny forest. If you click your heals, maybe you’ll come one day too.
From Maine to Madagascar 