FRIPPING AND SUCH!!

Fripping and Such

Many of the volunteers will live in areas that still have kings and chiefs and the Malagasy people wear the traditional colorful lambas. This is mostly in the coastal towns.  In the highlands and near larger cities where I will live many wear western clothes.  All the clothing, hats, shoes and belts you give to Goodwill that are not resold in the states, reach countries like Madagascar and end up in the most remote places you can imagine.

People have stalls at the weekly market day selling them and even strew the clothing out on the road side to sell.  All our unused discarded clothing sells for a dollar or less- they refer to it as fripping. It is not uncommon to hear volunteers ask “did you frip that shirt?”

I was sitting in a coffee shop (someone’s house that sells coffee on the road side) enjoying a coffee and “mofo bol” in Manandona and practicing Malagasy with a young man. I noticed that he was wearing a T shirt that said “Washington D.C. Police” I said “Oh, that T shirt says you are a police in our capital where the president lives.”  He smiled and liked that idea.  When he left, I heard him tell the people outside he was a police from the USA capital. A few minutes later a young man walked in and wanted to know what his red sweat shirt said- “Standford University” – I told him it was a well-known university where very smart people went to school.  He beamed as if just wearing the shirt made him smart.

Soon a line began to form. Everyone wanted their shirts interpreted. “Hicksville Bears” – I have no clue, but I acted like I knew them “Oh yes, Hicksville Bears, well known for strong students, strong like bears- an animal you do not have here in Madagascar, but in the states the bear is very strong.” He stood up straight, adding another ½ inch to his height, flexed both biceps and went out pointing to the picture of the bear on the shirt, telling everyone he was strong like that animal. The line continued and I tried to made sure everyone went away happy!

Word got around and in the afternoon as I was walking home a middle aged women in her 50’s, who I think I recognized from church, stopped me.  She had on a short, fake fur, white jacket.  One styled and made for a teenager. She wanted to know what the big black letters written across the back meant. She slowly turned around and there on the back of the jacket, in big black letters it read  “HUSTLER 69!”   I am speechless!!!

 

Veloma!  (Farewell)

I will be replacing a volunteer in my area who has worked very well with all the local health workers, doctor and nurse in my new town.  Her Malagasy is excellent and I was relieved  to hear her say that for the first three months at her site she could not understand a word anyone was saying.  I feel hopeful that the language will come and I won’t be saying “bark the dog” for two years.

I only have a 3 hour layover with her on the day I arrive, as she is packed up and ready to move out that afternoon.  Fortunately, all of the health workers from all the small villages are in town at the clinic to collect materials for the vaccine campaign beginning the next week. It turns out to be a serendipitous opportunity for me to meet them and for her to introduce me.

I am asked to give a small karbary (speech) and I am well prepared with one written out on paper.  It is simple, I am glad to be here, look forward to working here, am the new health volunteer and my name.

People are always curious about my age and it the first question they ask “How old are you?” Then they want to know if I am married.  Divorce is unusual here and they all frown at this word.  But for some reason all is put back in order when I tell them I have three children. Then they just want to know about the children, their ages, sex, where they live, what they do etc.

After the Karbary and a few questions, the volunteer leaving begins to make her good-by rounds.  She holds each health worker’s hands and kissing them on the cheek three times.  Saying good-by to each one. All of the sudden a woman begins to sing, in a low voice and then very slowly, one by one the others join in.  Their voices all sound like musical instruments, a violin here, a cello there, a flute, clarinet, the men in the group seem to know just when to begin harmonizing.  It is an incredibly beautiful sound, rising from deep within them. Some music can unlock places deep in your soul that release joy, sorrow, excitement. This song reaches down and unlocks a sadness I cannot put my finger on.  It is not a sadness of physical or emotional pain, of disappointment, desertion or even death.  The feeling overwhelms me.

My bottom lip quivers just a little and a tear threatens to leave my eye, I am determined to hold it together. This is not about me, but about the volunteer leaving.  Then a young man who speaks some English leans over and whispers to me “The song is traditional, one we sing when someone we love leaves to go on to better things. It tells how much we love them and will miss them and we offer a small piece of our heart to them so they won’t forget us.”

I hold it together until I reach back to my host family.  I quickly go to my room, shut the door, lay down on the bed and weep.  Not because I am sad, but because I feel so grateful to have witnessed something so beautiful.

I know that “personality can open doors, but only character can keep them open.” And I know this for certain because I read in in a fortune cookie. 

“A short coming is like a flat tire, A character Defect is like driving on it!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I sit here in the middle of a small town in the highlands of Madagascar, I pause and wonder