BREAK THROUGH (ODE TO THE MALAGASY READER IN THE US)

One of my comments said that I had a reader who was a Malagasy person living in the United States. Simply knowing this impacted me. I have had this in my heart for awhile now. I am so happy to have such a reader--yet feel obligated in a more profound way to tell the full story of what it is like for me to experience Madagascar.

After ten months away from the United States, I am pleased to announce:

I give up. I am receptive. I am open. I get it. I am now here.

The post I wrote about not liking Malagasy food or music sat with me like a meal that was too big in my gut. I felt guilty and beligerent.

And now I can say, finally, that my culture shock is at least in a new state.

I am still an outsider. I will always be outside of Malagasy culture--because I am not a Malagasy person...I cannot change my history, my identity, my nationality, my skin color, the origin or my ancestors...

Yet I finally feel comfortable.

I can tell this because instead of obsessing about how it will be when I return to the United States I find myself curious instead about how I will return.

Truthfully, I can't imagine being in the US. I cannot imagine NOT living in Madagascar.

It is like a fairytale to me now--the US.

It is like a dream I wake up from Saturday morning. Freeways.

I am finally here. In Madagascar.

I make homemade soup. For breakfast. I chop vegetables and create food from scratch for every single meal.

I teach my classes. I teach words and ideas.

I walk around Diego. Last week I got punched in the arm by a crazy woman. She ran up to me, stopped in front of me, and punched my arm much harder than my brothers every did (when they made me name ten candy bars before they would stop). It hurts for two days. And for me it was the most natural thing in the world.

I have accepted it all.

I live in Madagascar. It is familiar. I know where to buy eggs and vegetables. I know where I work. I know.

It is finally second nature. And it is still interesting to me. But it is no longer taxing.

And I still don't like Malagasy cuisine--but I do love the wide range of organic vegetables I cook with every day. And I do like Malagasy music. I am just jealous of how everyone else knows how to dance and I don't. It is like being in Jr High all over again--watching the other kids dance and not knowing how.

I am sorry I said I don't like the food.

In the US we eat for pleasure. In Madagascar, you eat for life. Food is different. True Malagasy food fills up my stomach and it is only the American in me that wants more than that.

In the US I will miss the pace.

I will miss how things start when the start NOT when they SHOULD start.

I will miss how I can just talk to people and relax and now that if I am "late" for my next meeting it is OK because time is a flexible thing--

I will miss everything. I will miss it all for the rest of my life.

The colors. The way homes are built. The bugs in my shower. The rush of joy when a faucet produces water. The feeling of euphoria when a light switch works. The comfort of a foam matress. The special feeling of sleeping inside of a mosquito net--a little fortress for nighttime. I will miss the smiles. I will miss the air. I will miss the smells. I will miss the clothes. I will miss the children. I will miss how it feels to be grateful. I will miss how it feels to be useful.

People I meet in Madagascar often ask me to tell people in the US about Madascar. They ask, "Do people in the US really think that only animals live here? Do they really only know about Lemurs?" They ask, "Do they only know the Disney Movie?" They ask, "Tell people about us. Tell people we are here."

And I say yes.

People are here. A culture is here. A culture so vast that the truth is, from an American perspective, it is hard to return to my origin. People live here and in addition to caring about endemism they also carry pride about their traditions and culture.

I am changed not only by my witnessing of poverty--but by my witnessing of another way of life. A totally acceptable way of life. Imagine that--another way of living life. A totally different framework for understanding the universe, relationships and life that is totally acceptable.

That is yet another gift I have received. The ability to grasp the fact that there are many ways to live life--all of which are acceptable, meaningful and worthwhile.

You cannot measure quality of life by wealth.

To assume that "third world" countries are less sophistocated culturally and intellectually is perhaps the biggest mistake of the "1st world". Paved roads are no indication of cultural or intellectual sophistication.

My opinion: we ( Americans ) need to listen more to people and less to dollars. Developed countries are not better. Undeveloped countries are not worse. It was a technology race of the past. Nothing more. Europeans could have just has easily lost the race. It just happens that they didn't. And it just happens that my ancestors were European.

Respecting culture is respecting the way in which other human beings understand the world. It is informative and invaluable. There is so much to learn. There is so much to learn if we can listen.

Breakthrough.