Long Live FB

Thank you my little friends: Aida, Ivani and Soleine

Years ago I went to Senegal on a hot date (...). I was living in Trinidad, happened to be on work visit in Jamaica and flew from there to New York on my way to Dakar. The American boarder authorities and drug inspectors were very suspicious about my voyage and I remember being interrogated by an arrogant, a-hole customs officer for half an hour. But that's besides the point. 

The point is that when I arrived in Senegal, it was my birthday. I already had a Yahoo account at the time, I am talking 10 years ago, and I received no less than 2 messages: one from my mom, one from Yahoo automatic birthday message service.

How things have changed! It is again my birthday today, and Facebook messages are flooding in from all over the world, by time zone, Sri Lanka, Zimbabwe, Belgium, Holland, UK, Morocco, New York City, Belize, Texas - thirty already! Now that feels like having your birthday. Cheers to Mark Zuckerman (or whatever his name is). And to all my friends of course, have a good one!

Soleine and her friends preparing mama's b-day cake

Are you four, are your five, are you six...keep counting girls!

Shoo...Shoe!

Hmmm, the whole week I've been thinking what to blog about. Maybe about a new World Bank report I  received in my inbox, putting figures to the political/economical crisis in Madagascar. It describes an 18% cut down in public expenditure in the past six months, major cuts in the national budgets for infrastructure, education and social affairs, in favor of the 'presidential' office, spectacular decreases of foreign investments by 29%, a 77% decrease in foreign aid, and a 35% decrease in foreign loans, off set by an equally spectacular new source of non-tax revenue of 100 million USD from a Chinese mining project. Comes with less strings attached surely, so why not let the Chinese dig away. No further comment...

Then again, I don't really want to blog about politics, crises or mining. I prefer to keep it light. So let me tell what happened to me a week ago. I had to buy shoes for my daughter. And while I believe what everybody says, - that you can buy everything in Madagascar; it's just a matter of searching hard,-  I just did  not feel like strolling on the markets and through the Chinese shops to be paying twice the price local people pay for a pair of pink plastic kicks that probably last only 3 months.

So I go into a real shoe boutique where they sell high quality leather shoes from Italy, as well as Geox. I quickly find a pair of cute trainers for Soleine, priced 240,000 Ar (87 euro, 118 USD). A bit on the expensive side, definitely Vahaza prices, but it's what we'd pay in Europe as well. I look around and around to see if there was anything cheaper. I hesitate some more, then persuade myself into buying them with my credit card. I pull out my card, walk over to the cashier, hand her the piece of plastic, she takes it, but... I am not letting go off it. I seem to be physically unable to hand her my card. A few seconds of pulling between me and the sales lady follow, after which I rush out of the shop with the card!

How embarrassing, she must have though I was one, big, fat, crazy, stupid Vazaha...but I was simply not able to pay the equivalent of a monthly salary (a good monthly salary) for a pair of purple girls' trainers.

P.s. later I found Jina, a French shoe shop where I bought four pairs for Soleine for the same price!

Growing Rice for Dummies

The people in Madagascar eat incredible amounts of rice each day, for breakfast, lunch and dinner that is. With an average consumption of up to half a kilo per person per day, mostly home-grown, it is no wonder that the country is covered in rice fields, in all regions, and even in the city of Antananarivo.

Personally I am a potato lover, as many of my Dutch compatriots, including Vincent van Gogh who has named his famous painting The Potato Eaters after our 'gastronomical' habit. But having lived for more than twelve years in tropical countries, I can not escape the rice culture. 

While living in Africa and Asia, I must have seen, crossed over, and passed by thousands of rice field in all possible shades of green. But not once have I ever asked myself how rice is grown...

Until this week! 

For the first time with my feet in the rice paddy

I participated in a study visit with my new Aga Khan Foundation project. Twelve farmers and project staff from the Sofia region went to Ambatonradzaka to see a the largest rice cultivation area of Madagascar. The farmers, most of whom had never left their home town, had a blast! And so did I. 

And boy, did I learn a lot. Too much to share on this blog, but here's a crash course on rice cultivation for dummies:

The Rice Rythm in Madagascar

There are roughly two campaigns per year - wet or dry zone, with the following steps:

• Sowing seeds in the nursery: once sprouted plants are to be transplanted

Sowing germinated seeds

• Cultivating the nursery: the young rice plants are picked to be transplanted

Girl picking and bundling rice plants

• Preparation of the land: ploughing to prepare the soil for planting

Ploughing with help of Zubus

Or with help of a machine

• Water management / irrigation: in the case of wetland rice, the field has to be filled with water

Water leading to various rice field

• Transplanting (Repiquage): the young plants are transplanted

Planting the rice, usually done by women

• Growing: rice fields  have to be monitored. For dry zone rice, weeding and spraying may be needed

Spot the difference: rice or weed?

Pesticides are needed, so are gloves!

• Et voila!

• And lastly: Harvesting, Processing,  Stocking and Eating 3 times per day!

This is what 80% of the Malagasy people do; year in, year  out. 

Bon appetit! I am going to stick to my potatoes...

The Potato Eaters by Vincent Van Gogh

How to Add Seven Years to Your Life in Madagascar

We've been here for over 6 months now, and  for the most I have good experiences. Apart from one... which  really exhausts me sometimes.

Driving around in this city is really stressful, to say the least, mainly for three reasons:

1. People and traffic jams EVERYWHERE. People are walking on the street en masse, and you have to drive through markets and their hundreds of people.

2. It's horribly hot with the sun on your car - investing in air-conditioning seems worthwhile - and you can't open the windows because of stinky fumes and security issues (I always 'hide' my purse under the passenger's seat - you just never know)

3. There are millions of vendors and beggars. How many times per day can one politely decline to buy: 'Chanel' sunglasses and ditto perfume, Scrabble or Monopoly games, electrical mosquito rackets, dish towels, dust towels, beach towels, wash towels, whatever towels, sponges, car seat covers, Christmas lights and hats, mobile phone chargers, etc, etc

Sometimes it would take me 1.5 hours to come back home from work, and I would be physically exhausted. Not conducive for family life.

So I decided to hire a driver, like every other sensible expat man and woman here. But how to find a trust-worthy, not-too-old driver without B.O that lives nearby our house? Yes, these were my three criteria. I know, typical female. A man would probably ask for an experienced driver with a valid driver's license who knows his way around the city and can change a tire.

I am being driven around like a princess...

To cut a long story short: I have found my driver. His name is Tina and he came highly highly recommended, from three different sources. He is young, he smells fresh, and lives at 5 minutes walking distance from our house.  There's only one thing. He just doesn't look like a driver. But then again, my mother always taught me not to judge a book by its cover, didn't yours?

I am so happy to be driven around here. It saves my day, I can drink coffee in the car, read a book, send text messages, and, most of all, I come home without feeling stressed.  I just added seven years to my life! 

Meet Tina! (pronounce Teen)

The Ocean...Enfin!

Madagascar is an island but so far I never once felt being surrounded by oceans. Until we went on a Christmas holiday to Nosy Be, local language for Big Island. It's off the North-Western coast of Madagascar, "near" Mozambique. We drove from Tana to Mahajanga, in 3 days, a lovely road trip, and spent one night in a national park Ankarafansika, managed by MNP or Madagascar National Parks which is Michel's project.

The park itself is nice enough, but what was really cool is that we made this interesting and  unique discovery: a huge canyon eroded by water, turned into some sort of gigantic sand castle. Amazing, going down the canyon was like walking in a deserted city made of golden sand. Never seen such landscape before and with the sun setting on it, it was truly unique:  It made me feel like being in a Harry Potter novel.

We then stayed one night in Mahajanga, nothing interesting there, to fly to Nosy Be, a stunningly beautiful island, Now I will let the photo's tell the story.

The one and only Baobab in Ankarafansika

Michel on the Swing Bridge

Sand City

Like a huge sand castle on the beach - sand cathedral rather

Antonio

View from hotel Anjiamarango beach resort

Soleine met fietsenrek!

View from our room!

Why Is This TV Turned Off?

Guess: Why is This TV off? 

A. We’re  participating in ‘No TV week’

B. We’re saving energy by watching on odd days only

C. A cockroach family has nested itself inside the TV

D. Lighting struck our house and destroyed ALL our electrical equipment

Damn damn, the answer is number D. It’s one of those things that are only supposed to happen to other peopls..until it happens to you! Bummer.

Last Friday Soleine and I are playing games by candle light because power has gone off in our home. It’s raining and there’s a thunderstorm. We’re counting the seconds between lighting and thunder, it still far away. Suddenly the house gets lit up followed immediately by the loudest sound I have ever heard. Sparks of fire are flying around in your garden. Holy cow.

Sensor box exploded after lightning struck

We’re fine, because I had switched of our modem as well as the multiplug in the TV corner. When it turns out that the power has returned to all our neighbors’ homes we’re learning the horrid truth: lightning has struck a sensor box that controls our garden lights placed on our pine tree. The box has exploded, but that’s not all! It appears that the lighting power (what voltage would that be  - I have no internet to look it up) has gone into the electricity cable connected to that sensor.  Two fuses burnt, but Michel manages to repair those. Power to the house is restored.

We’re still thinking we got away without major damage until we turn on the TV. Nothing. CD player? Nothing. DVD player? Nothing. Modem? Nothing, Telephone? Nothing… Today we got confirmation from the shops and repairmen…all our electrics  are fried! Beyond repair.  The only thing in our living room that is still working is our Christmas tree.

Lesson learned for the season, when in thunderstorm:

PULL ALL PLUGS YOU CAN FIND IN YOUR HOUSE OUT OF THEIR SOCKET!!!!!!

  

Merry Christmas anyway.

Keeping in Touch with the Dutch

Everywhere in the world you can find Dutch people - whether you like it or not - traveling is in our blood. In Madagascar there is a small community of Dutch people that gets together at least twice a year. On April 30 to celebrate our Queen's birthday, and on December 5 to celebrate the birthday of Sinterklaas. Who? St Nicholas. Saint Nicholas is the patron saint of children and sailors, and the basis for Santa Claus, the mythical holiday figure in the US.

I like to think of Sinterklaas and Santa Claus as brothers. How else am going to explain my 6-year old?

Sinterklaas is always accompanied by a couple of "Zwarte Pieten', these are his helpers. They're black because they come through the chimney. It has nothing to do with race or Africa or whatsoever, but you can image the confusion by African people when they see white people dressed up as a black persons. Some people find this not P.C. but to them I see B.S, it's just a children's story...

Anyhow...last Sunday Sinterklaas and his Zwarte Piet finally arrived in Madagascar. Not on his traditional white horse, but in a Malgashy zebu cart! With sunglasses. So fun!

Sinterklaas arriving on his zebu cart

Zwarte Piet, black with soot from the chimney

Dutch Kiddo's in Madagascar

Meet Alex and Akany Fitahiana

Being Dutch, Thanksgiving does not mean anything to me. But when my American friend Shannon McAfee said she'd organize a Thanksgiving lunch for 250 street children, I was happy for the opportunity to help.


There are many many street children in Tana, and it breaks my heart to see their dusty faces, snotty noses, poor-teethed smiles, and sad eyes. Most seem to have lost the innocent look of a child.

This is how I met Alex (26), a very special guy. A former street child himself - his pretty but poor mother was abandoned by his rich father in a not so pretty way, taking away all the possessions in their house and leaving the children on the streets. He got lucky, a stranger (?) met him and decided to pay for his education. Alex managed to finish his secondary school diploma and studied IT. He then found a job as an assistant manager, making a decent living and with his first earnings he opened, at the age of twenty, his centre d'acceuil Akany Fitahiana to help some of the the thousands of enfants de la rue.

Alex with Malala (16), 
her dad's a drug addict

Alex with Tanteroka (13)
 born on the street

Alex is now 26. His center provides education, life skills and occasional meals for 255 children between the age of two and sixteen - he started with 18 kids. He also finds hosts families in the neighborhood where the homeless children can stay for the night. 

Soleine's helping to serve a Thanksgiving meal - no, not turkey

Most kids were up since 6 AM...waiting hours for the feast to start

Pretty girls, but oh so serious..

These are hard times in Madagascar. Since the crisis started in 2009, the transitional government hasn't provided much support to the underprivileged. The center is on the brink of closing down. They're in need of pretty much everything: proper toilets, lights, school materials, toys, clothes, underwear, tooth brushes, food, soap; you name it. 

I am going to keep in touch with Alex, see what I can do to help.

You're welcome to help too!

The typical sad look of a child that has never known innocence

At least we managed to make this one smile...

How to Talk Yourself into Someone's Bedroom

Today I have discovered the best way to talk yourself into someone’s bedroom! Just kidding, or… not really. I just completed my first field trip in Madagascar by visiting a dozen rural bedrooms in and around Maevatanana. 

For my work as a consultant for PSI, an American NGO, I am involved in the monitoring of a large mosquito net distribution campaign. PSI is distributing more than 5.5 million nets all over Madagascar, in 6 days.  The campaign is part of a world wide effort to roll back malaria, financed by USAID, Global Fund, and others.

It sounds pretty easy, right? Just go door-to-door and hand over one net for every three people in each house. Well, it's not really. 

Firstly, there are no records about the number of houses or how many members each household has. That makes it hard to plan logistics. 

Secondly, it’s not enough to just hand out mosquito nets; people need to know why they need them, how to hang them up, and what to do with the packaging which is contaminated with insecticide, for example. Also we need to know exactly how many nets have been distributed. We cooperate with existing authorities, such as health centers, village chiefs, and community agents. They all need to be informed, trained, compensated, monitored, and supervised. 

To give you some stats:

• Number of mosquito nets (think: importation, boarder formalities, storage, transportation, distribution) : 5.5 million
•  Total population (think: inform them when to get it, how to use it – not for fishing or as curtains!):  13.329.250 people
• Number of locations: 72 districts divided into 11.131 divisions (think: some of them are two days walking distance from the distribution point, a pack can weigh up to 30 kilos)
• Number of community agents: 41,134 (think: equip all of them with forms and tools for the campaign).
• Total campaign costs : around USD 8M, excluding the costs of the nets. This comes down to one dollar and 45 cents per net which last 2 years, or less than a dollar per person.

Get the picture? It’s big. My humble task is to help with the monitoring, making sure the records are kept and that data are being entered and analyzed (think: databases, computers, typists) for the final report.

I had to go see for myself how this is all working out. And you know what? In the region I went it worked out G-R-E-A-T.  All the households I visited- by surprise - had their nets hanging happily. At all the sites I've seen people buried the trash ‘comme il faut’. 

Of course, the real impact in terms of  malaria reduction can only be measured after some time, and there were many logistical and political hiccups to overcome during the distribution, but my impression still stands: NE(A)T.

So, sleep tight Maevatanana, don't let the mozzies bite!

Sleep well, US and European tax payers, rest assured: your money has reached the poorest of the poor, the 'farest' of the far, all the way on the mystical island of Madgascar (it rhymes!).

66 packs of 50 nets and 174 packs of 20 nets still in stock

Community mobilizer in rural commune

Children under 5 yrs are the most vulnerable to malaria

Bags are taken off the nets and buried before distribution, to prevent nets from being sold

En route to yet another bedroom!

Blue is better than white, as white is for covering the dead.

For the first time in his life he will sleep under a net

During the day the nets are put up

Boy resting in his parents bed

Sleep tight - Maevatanana, don't let the mozzies bite!

The Coup - Putsch - Overthrow

It's done. For the first time ever in my life I stocked up on food. Well, that is to say: I bought items that I don't immediately need. I am talking about two packs of sugar, an extra pack of butter, a kilo of flour, 12 liters of water for example. Ha ha, I know that won't last us very long. I also got other 'essentials' like movies and red wine. There happened to be a wine promotion at the Jumbo; these supermarket managers sure are clever.

I felt so bad with my huge cart stacked with groceries. I'm just not a bulk person. Growing up in a family of eight you'd think I would be used to it, but I am not. We lived walking distance from the Albert Hein Supermarket in my village, and almost every day my mom sent me out to buy a few quick groceries, never the big quantity planner either. Obviously here it feels even worse: the lady before me at the vegetables weighed one single banana. One! Compared to her my cart was obscene.

Our 'essentials' to help us through the 'coup d'etat' :-)

Anyhow, the reason I am doing this is of course: The Coup! Yes we had a real 'coup d'etat' here two days ago. At least, according to the media. Suddenly I got emails and FB message from all over the world - we happen to be global citizens - asking us about the coup. The bizarre thing is: we don't know anymore than you do! The referendum itself was calm, we all stayed home and read on the internet  that a group of 20 military guys declared a coup d'etat. I did not know it was so easy to do. Honestly, I don't really understand the intricacies and the whys and the whos, and if I did I would not blog about it anyhow.

 All I know are the personal consequences for us, so far

• My field trip got cancelled, real bummer
• We're not supposed to go near the airport, for fear of attacks on the army camp close by
• I just bought an embarrassing amount of groceries
• The first-ever US Marine ball in Tana which was supposed to take place this Saturday, has been postponed. Major backlash for the beauty parlors tomorrow!
• We can't plan anything ahead as nobody has any information about when or if the .. hits the fan

Lastly, a thing that really bugs me is this: In English we use the French word coup d'etat, while the French use the German word 'putsch' (what kind of a word is that anyway?). So, would it only be logic that in German they use an English term like overthrow? But they don't, they have their own German word, Staatsstreich. Not logical, people.

Morondava Avenue of the Baobabs

Here's another article by my guest writer. 


The majority of visitors to the region of Madagascar come here solely to see one of the most famous natural sights in the entire African continent: the Avenue of the Baobabs... and rightly so. After all, these trees, which have straight trunks that can reach a height of 30 metres, are a stunning sight which looks particularly magical at sunset. 

Perhaps the most famous of the trees is the one named 'Les Baobabs Amoureux' and, although situated a bit further away from the main avenue than some of the largest trees, it's worth making the journey to see it. There are organised tours you can take that will show you the major sights, or you can hire a bicycle and attempt the lengthy bike ride between the beach at Morondava and the avenue. If you do decide to do this, make sure you take a decent cycle repair kit as the roads aren't in great condition and the track is sandy for the final few kilometres as you approach the trees. 


There is, however, so much more to this region than just the Avenue of the Baobabs. Morondava itself is a laid back beach town that promises relaxation and gorgeous weather in equal measure. With white sandy beaches and crystal clear seas that are perfect for cooling off in after a day of sunbathing, the town is the perfect antidote to the hustle and bustle of some of Madagascar's larger towns and cities. 


There are a number of small hotels and restaurants dotted along the beach, with many owned by Europeans who made the trip out to Morondava and never returned. Similarly, there are a few American and Australian hoteliers who have managed to transform their establishments into destinations a far cry from the sort of Sydney hotels or New York hotels they've grown up with. These hotels and restaurants tend to serve the traditional Malagasy fare you grow to expect whilst touring the country (the prawns here are amazing) but also some decent pasta dishes and meat dishes. 


Accommodation can be slightly more expensive here than in other parts of the country, partly because of the stunning surroundings and partly because the town is so small, so make sure you do your research carefully before booking.