Pousse-Pousse

POUSSE- POUSSE

Riding into my banking town I spot two oxen, yoked together with a homemade wooden yoke, straining uphill, pulling an unbelievable heavy load of rice.  I wonder at their stamina, ribs showing, labored breathing and my heart aches a little for them. Beasts of burdens. No end to their work load, working from dawn until dusk, looking thin and gaunt, they are not likely fed much for their hard work.

As I contemplate their rather sad existence and we get closer to town I notice another beast of burden.  He too is carrying a large load, he too is thin, and he is barefoot. His muscles strain going uphill and he gingerly guides the pousse-pousse around the large hole in the road so that his passenger is not jolted.  He too has a little rest at night and his thin body tells me he too has little to eat at night. He is the pousse pousse driver.

A pousse -pousse is what they call a rickshaw in other parts of the world. A one or two seated cart pulled by humans.  In my banking town of Antsirabe there are more pousse-pousses than people.

Painted in bright colors, decorated with old bottle caps neatly nailed along the sides, or a painted picture of a flower or animal on the back.   Like boats, they are sometimes named after their favorite women or lover.  They are the local taxi cab.  They are busiest in the morning taking people to work and hired to take children to and from school. These men, young and old, clip up and down the streets at an even pace taking their passengers to their destination.

Madagascar is a paradox. Near Africa, but not really African. Part of Asia but not really Asian.  The rickshaws I assume come from the Asian part of the Madagascar mix. The Malagasy people are a mix of looks, customs and culture. It is a large island, 1000 miles long and the people from the north coast are different from those from the south coast and from those in the highlands.

I generally walk around town and they follow me telling me all the reasons why I should be riding instead of walking. The cost is typically 2,000.00 AriAri (0.66 cents) to go just about anywhere.  When I do ride I always give them a small tip to buy a coffee and bread. If you ride in a fancy one, it is pulled by a bike, it cost a little more, but you arrive at your destination a little faster.

To Market To Market

I went to the large market in my banking town of Antsirabe with some of the younger volunteers. I needed to buy some things my home and a few warm cloths. I will be living in the highlands and the temperature will drop at night and with no electricity it will be a challenge to stay warm.  I had the same problem in Guatemala, but I had electricity and space heaters.

I learned a few funny things about the language and customs. One of the volunteers needed a pair of new shoes and asked the vendor ever so sweetly if it was OK to fight them. She is actually asking if she can bargain – but there is no word for this, so the phrase literally translates to ” Can I fight you?”  If they say yes they you begin to argue about the price in a slightly rude way. They ask $3.00, you throw your head back in slight disgust, look shocked and repeat “$3.00, that is way too much.”   Then they hold firm and say nicely “It is a fair price.”   Then you fold your arms across your chest and say “Are you kidding me, you think that price is fair,  I will give you $1.00.”  Then it is their turn to laugh, act shocked and throw their head back and say in utter disgust “No, that is a crazy low price, I cannot do it -$2.50” This goes back and forth until you agree upon a price.  If they say no you cannot fight them at the beginning of this conversation then the price is set. No coming down in price.

This was a lot of fun when I was younger in Central America, but it is a lot of work and energy to get something for 0.25 cents less and I think they need the 0.25 more than I do.  Of course, I don’t like being ripped off either.  In Latin America, but even more so here, the price is set by skin color – the whiter you are, the more you pay. They assume anyone white is American and they assume all Americans are very rich.

The Malagasy phrase for “bargaining” to “fight” reminds of my first Spanish classes.  I learned how to say “Don’t bother me” but there is no translation directly for the word bother and the word they use is “molest”.  “No me molesta” or in English “Don’t molest me.”  Very strange to say to someone.  Languages are interesting and fun.

I also learned in the market place that “How are you” in English, is exactly how it sounds in Malagasy to say “Throw that lice away” I am talking hair lice here.  It is not how it is spelled of course, but with a slight accent it sounds like the Malagasy words for lice and throw it out. Gosh it would be great if I can find a place or time to use that phrase since I can remember it and say it so well.  I hope to find someone with head lice and be able to say “How are you”.

A Remarkable Find

My last day in my banking town I walk around the city to explore.  As I walk past one of the oldest and largest hotels built in 1935, something draws me to it. I climb the hill to the entrance and hesitate to go in and have a cup of coffee.  Will it be too costly?  I only make $5.00 a day, this might be my daily budget!

But a force pulls me in past the front desk out to the large manicured grounds and a swimming pool. The energy pulling me in is a 83 year old women having her breakfast.   When she sees me in a distance she calls to me and speaks to me in French.  I apologize and tell her I am American and do not speak French.  “Oh” she says “ I live in London and speak English.”  We connect and bond instantaneously and I sit down to have coffee with her.

Mira is 83 years young.  She was born and raised in Yugoslavia and studied in Italy.  There she met her first husband, a lawyer. He was in politics. He promptly died of a heart attack after 12 years of marriage. Sometime later she married another Italian lawyer, 12 years her junior.  This was also a good marriage and he also died of a heart attack after 15 years of marriage. She said she got the hint and never married again.

She climbed the Himalayas when she was 60, she has traveled almost everywhere in the world.  She has traveled through most of Africa and is now spending a month in Madagascar.  Everywhere she goes she hires a local driver to take her around.  This woman does everything on a tight budget and abhors all the fancy hotels and restaurants.  She has the same philosophy about travel as I do – you don’t need a lot of money to travel.  She avoids all the tourist traps.

We spent two hours talking about travel, marriage, politics, the United Nations, NATO, Trump (she does not like his politics but loves that he calls a cat a cat and says the USA is in need of big change). She was incredibly bright and well versed in politics of the world.  She is an only child and never had children. Speaks 5 languages fluently and has worked as a translator it the past.

She lifted my spirits.  She was as interested in me, as I was in her.  I did not realize until much later how much she helped me remember who I was. I think I lost a little bit of myself being around 20 something’s for 3 months. She reminded me of the woman who left for a city in Honduras she could not pronounce at age 27, raised 3 children in 5 countries, moving twice as many times and making a home in each place, the woman who survived a divorce after 25 years of marriage and the woman who joined the Peace Corps at age 63. I needed that today.  It is amazing when the soul connects with another soul of similar interest and backgrounds.

We hugged when she left and when I stood up and said, “Let me help you out of the chair” she looked at me, smiled and said “Dear, if I need help out of this chair, I should not be traipsing around Madagascar alone at my age.”

You won’t believe this – we share the same birthday!!!  I know this was a God-incidence!

I leave for my village tomorrow so I won’t be in contact for a while but hope to have photos and stories when I get back into town. My computer is acting a little funny- cross your fingers it will hold out!

You are always one decision away from a totally different life.

The greatest secrets of life are always hidden in the most unlikely places.   

  Roald Dahl

Pousse Pousse

Mira my new 83 year old soul mate!