Its a quiet night in the village. We arrive late from team day and it is dark. Our laundry has been done on the rocks in the stream by one of the villagers and is hanging on the lines. Earlier, one of the young girls has cleaned the porch floor, using her foot to scrape the dirt off with a coconut shell. Another young girl takes the mats that capture at least some of the red mud on the porch, and washes them once in awhile at the stream. One characteristic of the Sakalava is work. They have to work hard just to survive, and they produce much of what they need. But they do use money to buy things and dont expect handouts, so they are eager to help the girls for pay. Toudevalo unloads the ox cart with the help of his children and two of them offer to take down the laundry. It has been a cloudy day and its all still wet, so we leave it. I am up late writing and hear movement outside on the porch. Everyone else is asleep, but I try not to get anxious. Since the girls robbery, they have guards they pay to watch over them during the night. Soon, it begins to rain. Hard. I wonder how many days it will take for the laundry to dry now. The hut is enclosed with bamboo looking walls, and there are windows and a door with screens. The roof is made of huge leaves from palms that are indigenous to Madagascar and are their national symbol. As the steady rain falls, there is a soft patting sound on the roof that is calming. The island went through three months of this from February to April during the rainy season. I remember Tori struggling during this time and I can see why. As in much of Africa, the red dirt is part of life. My feet are officially stamped with the Ive been to Africa orange color that Ive seen on the beautiful feet of Jessica and Tori and I will hesitate to wash it off when I return home. When it rains, the mud becomes slippery and sticky. And its everywhere. Theres no battling it, so you just try to embrace it. Even though the hut is enclosed, there are gaps between the pieces used to create the walls and you can see between the cracks in the wood floor. Everything this morning is damp. Anything that is paper is wilted. Carpenters Way, the money you sent to improve this hut built into the side of a red dirt hill is priceless. You allowed them to put some clear panels in the roof to let in light, concrete stairs up to their potty {I use that term loosely}, and concrete to keep the mud away from the back walls. Michelle comments that this is the first time its rained since the panels have been installed and it makes a huge difference. I can only imagine how dark, moldy, smelly and depressing it must have been. That they endured three months of it is more than I can process. Darn these watery eyes. Sure makes it hard to type. Going out to the porch for coffee, I realize what the noise during the night has been. Someone has come and taken the laundry off of the line to try to get it out of the rain. The girls think it must be their night guard or Lorette. I tear up again. Tori shrugs and says with a smile, It takes the whole village to raise the vazah! The Sakalava pretty much do life outside, so the rain has not stopped them. They are out as usual, cooking and then washing dishes in the stream in the rain. Have I mentioned that the stream is a squatty potty as well? It serves many purposes, including a place for Tori to wash her hair. Yeah, no need to think about all that for very long. The rain stops and the sun peeks out now and again, but its still kind of an overcast day. Unfortunately that means the solar panels wont charge the battery so recharging devices will not be possible. Its a lazy day spent reading and enjoying the village sights and sounds. Tori says its their replacement for television. We watch the goings on of the children, the dogs chasing chickens, the cat playing. I hear the musical thud, thud of the rice pounding at the bottom of the hill. Two girls, not more than nine and twelve years old, are taking a pounding stick twice as tall as themselves and pounding it into the wooden container holding the rice. It is a dance I cannot describe, but there is such beauty in the rhythm of their work. They are so young, but already becoming strong Sakalava women like their mamas. There are three children with toys we can thank the west for. They have found disposable plastic water bottles, flattened them, and put them on the end of a stick. They push them along with the stick, running as fast as they can. Its an art, as Clay can testify, not to hit a rock or root and go flying into the stick. Clay only got his to go a few feet! The smallest of the three has his on a string and someone has made wheels for it out of something they carved, probably the rind of a fruit. He ties the string to a stick and his car becomes the end of a fishing pole. They cant be more than three years old, and Clay and I decide that if Knox were here, hed be right there in the middle of them! The girls hut is kind of a local first aid station and throughout the day various villagers stop by. Antibiotic ointment is dispensed. Lavender oil is rubbed onto a burn on a little girls back from scalding water that her older sister accidentally spilled on her. Its interesting that they come for treatment because they have so many natural plants they use for medicinal purposes. After dinner, the girls favorite young man stops by. His name is Areley and hes Toudevalos son. At fifteen, he is the perfect little brother age for the girls. And he is a mess. He arrives at the screen door with his headlamp on and is bringing their jerry cans and buckets of water up from the well. He calls out, Toli! They cant say Tori, so she is Toli. Clay and I are curious where he has been all day. He tells the girls he has been to town to see his wife and she is vazah. They gently try to get him to go home- which is about ten steps from their door, but he is full of mischief and continues trying their patience with all kinds of tales. We dont understand any of what they are saying, but it has me laughing nonetheless, seeing the headlamp bobbing back and forth outside the screen and the girls rolling their eyes and calling him Princesa. I do understand that! The girls help the village in many ways, and one has been to help Areley purchase a bicycle. Meeting with his mom, Lorette, they explain that they could buy the bike but it is a great deal of money. They all agree that Areley will bring their water up until he has earned enough to pay them back. He is always on the bike and uses it to ride into Ambatozavavy for school and other errands. Another young man, Cellestin, has been hired by the girls to water the outdoor plants and clean the concrete steps. He has a reputation for trouble, so the girls are trying to build a closer relationship with him and to help him occupy his time with more positive things. He is married to Michelles language helper, Angela, and Michelle has written about her. I will share it when I have better computer access, but please pray for them. Relationships and experiences are paramount to village life, and to see the girls integrated into this truly warms my heart. There is no doubt that they are exactly where they are supposed to be.
Posted on: Tue, 15 Jul 2014 10:48:34 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015