Comin Straight Out of Port Berge With a Loose Cannon

Holy Moly! The black hole swallowed me up and has finally decided to spit me back out into the world of computers, cell phones and casual beverage consumption. I am lucky as one of my fellow volunteers has an apple computer, so I can have a leisurely type without the time constraints or keyboard difficulty of the jankety French computers here in Antsohihy. Sorry about the lack of communication, but it has been really difficult to keep ol Kenny updated with the computer situation here. I think you can expect to hear more from me in the future as a computer should accompany my parents on their impending visit. This computer should make it possible for me to record more of the interesting events in my life at the time that they happen and then post them in one big chunk when I come into bank. So, for those of you who are interested in what I’m up to, this will be a welcomed addition to your frequent internet time or “work”. For those of you who have the world by the tail and are putting it in your pocket, and find that my blathering takes time away from the beloved spreadsheet, my daily travails will be nothing more than a delete button’s push away. I do appreciate the interest shown by many of your emails, letters, postcards, and packages. I recognize the sacrifice of time and energy that it takes to stay in communicado with a distant friend when one is immersed in the all consuming corporate/college world. Please know that I appreciate the effort!

So, here’s a brief update as to what I’ve been up to in the last two months. I am still working at the local hospital every morning Mon-Fri. Wednesdays and Fridays are the busiest days and can be quite hectic with 6 week old babies beginning their vaccinations (BCG) on Wed and 9 month old babies finishing their vaccination program on Fridays. I usually give little presentations to the mothers and other patients waiting to see the doctor before we start weighing and vaccinating. So far I have presented on the Vaccination program, healthy weaning food for babies 6 months and older, and good breastfeeding. Now, I realize that listening to some young white guy speak to you in broken Malagasy about how to breastfeed a baby is fairly humorous to many of these mothers. I soon plan to do bigger presentations on AIDS, STD’s, and Malaria every Monday as well as go to the outlying villages to find the babies who have yet to finish their vaccination programs. Vaccinations are so important, easy and cheap, yet I still see so many people in Port Berge who struggle daily with legs rendered useless by polio. The vaccination program costs the equivalent of 50 US cents and yet many people are not informed of the importance of getting their little “zaza” vaccinated completely. Along with the presentations, my typical morning involves weighing babies, talking to the mothers about their positive or negative growth, and giving the occasional Vitamin A vaccine to the 6 mos olds. I enjoy the work, and enjoy the interaction with the surprised mothers who find themselves talking to a Vazaha in Gasy. The babies are generally terrified of me, but I’ve found that the fat babies are unflappable. Mom plops them down on the cold, white scale, they turn and eye me skeptically, and then glance with indifference at the final balanced weight. They tend to cast looks of disgust at the small, skinny babies who are screaming and trying with all their might to squirm off the scale. Fat babies are the true fat cats—Life is good when you’re a little ball of baby blubber.

I would have to say that my favorite time in Port Berge is in the morning. On Monday and Thursday morning I get up at 5 AM and go for a run. The end of the run culminates in what I think of as the quintessential African setting. At the outskirts of town, the road opens up to a green, hilly vista, dotted with mud brick houses which is warmed by a rising sun colored purple and orange. Often the mornings are cool and misty but get hot very quickly. People give me a good staring as I run by with my bandana and ipod. Those of you who have spent much time with me will not be surprised by this, but my favorite part of the day is my morning coffee session. After much trial and error I think I’ve now discovered how to make a fabulous cup of java. I buy unroasted beans at the market and then roast them until they are black. Next, I crush them in a pestle and put the grounds in a coffee sock. A pot of water is boiled and then poured in the sock. The café is collected in a French press and then I dump the grinds in to fortify the black fuel. After being pressed, sugared and milked this stuff not only kicks me in the pants but has me doing circles. Sitting and drinking my coffee and pondering the current life I live is a favorite part of my day.

An interesting and ongoing anecdote from my life is the battle with rats. I think that this is an essential part of the peace corps experience as just about everyone I know in PC has an interesting rat story to tell. Most of us might have had some experience with mice back in the US, but it is always a bit of a shock when you have your first up close encounter with a rat. Also, in some sort of weird coincidence, the word for bad is “ratsy” in Gasy. I get a kick out of my ratsy rat problem. OK, so some weeks ago I knew that it was time to do something about ratsy as he was creating quite a disturbance in my kitchen. I had put off doing anything besides giving the kitchen a thorough cleaning, but this only encouraged my little pest to venture to outlying rooms. When the sanctity of my bed was violated one night I knew that said rodent’s death warrant had been signed. I pondered my options. First, I could attempt to club the pestilence with a large stick. Now, the only stick that was readily available was my coffee/peanut butter grinding stick, and in a lighted room (rats like the dark) the rat would have to be still enough for me to Tiger Woods him into the infinite abyss. Even if I was able to make solid contact and record my first kill shot, the problem would only be alleviated by one less rat. Also, the thought of rat flavored peanut butter was enough to deter me from option number one along with not being quick enough. Option 2 involved me purchasing some poison and strategically placing throughout the house. The problem with this plan was that rats don’t particularly like to die in an easy to find place. They like to decay in some secluded nook, such as under your pillow or in a duffel bag. I was not excited about the prospect of discovering a rotting rat carcass several days after the fact. But, I decided on option 2 and wouldn’t you know it, a rat dined on the pink poison mixed with dried fish and promptly found a nice, wet, cubby hole to die in. I had discovered the first dying rat one night before going to sleep and I decided that I would let him die and deal with the disposal in the morning. In the morning I was utterly shocked to find an empty kitchen as it seemed very unlikely that the rat would have recovered from the jerky death fits from the night before. I chalked it up to one strong willed rat until about two days later when the very recognizeable smell of death became a permanent potpourri in my kitchen. After looking high and low I came to the conclusion that the smell was emanating from around my refrigerator. Upon pulling the fridge away from the wall I found nothing on top, under, or behind the fridge. More careful examination then proved that the smell was coming from a large rat that had died in a catchall tray on the back of the fridge. The tray had been collecting water and so the decomposition had progressed quickly. The smell was very foul and I had to leave the room in order to collect myself before beginning the dead rat extraction process. I ended up having my neighbor’s worker come over and showed him the situation. He exclaimed, “no problem” and then deftly stuck his hand in the little hole and removed the dripping wet varmint. As he walked out of the house he looked back with a laugh and said “Mantsy!” or stinky. A good cleaning and a little incense had the kitchen back in order. Since this first ratsy experience, I have dealt with at least a dozen more dead rats. I have stepped on them in dark rooms (thank god I had sandals on) and I have become an old hand at dead rat disposal. There is no problem picking a dead rat up by the tail, carrying it outside and flinging it in the trash pile.

Well, that is all for now, but expect more very soon. My family, Heekin and Dix are coming to visit on Friday March 10, so I will be leaving for Antananarivo soon. I expect to find a little internet time there so more anecdotes are on their way. Thanks again to all of you who have stayed in touch. There is very little that is better than getting a letter from a friend when you’re feeling lonely and isolated. My best to all of you, I hope life is treating you well.

Logan