Weddnings, Dances and a show!

This last weekend found me in the midst of many awesome events so let’s begin!
After returning from the capital I found myself on the ground running to keep up with the events I had been missing and the events that were coming. I dove back into my classes, had a few good ones and one really bad one that will be resolved this week, then learned the new schedule for the rest of the school year, met with teachers to discuss the upcoming exams, began planning for the next exam I need to write this week and even looked to see what units I would be able to finish before the final exams hit our school. I started my teaching with the new English club we have reformed here in Maevatanana and found myself face to face with students and adults at all levels of English abilities teaching numbers and counting in English as Friday slowly dwindled to a close. I had far more fun with the English club than I had anticipated and I cant wait until next month when we begin singing and looking to put on play. I watched the school buildings behind us continue their construction and visited with Bridgette and her family for a few days enjoying girl talk, gossip about sepas( boyfriends) among Bridgette and her daughters( Bridgette of course only enjoyed my quarter of the conversation and I watched her mouth turn into a line as her youngest daughter giggled about her newest interest) The Malagasy women have this clucking noise they make with the tip of their tongue in their mouth. It’s a noise of disproval and sometimes, disbelief, and this found our way many a time into my visit. I made plans to eat with her family as I had completely destroyed one of the local traditional foods the week before and she wanted me to experience it as it was deliciously intended. I was then invited to a wedding and didn’t foresee any scheduling conflict which was stupid of me but… oh well!
Saturday was a wedding, and true to Malagasy form it started an hour and a half late. Of course this blamed on the bride although I am not entirely convinced that truly was the case. I dressed in a new nicer skirt and my heels ( the only nice clothes I own) and watched the whole service, that was not surprisingly very similar to our own although this was Catholic and only half as long. The priest sang his part, the couple went to the microphone to recite their vows, sat at a special pew in front of the priest throughout the service, exchanged rings, kissed, and made their way down the alter. A small group of singers accompanied them in the front of the church and led us through at least ten Malagasy religious songs, one of which found the whole party dancing in a line through the church. The bride was dressed in a white gown with white gloves trimmed in nothing less than Malagasy beauty with bright pink bows on her back and detailing the sleeves and skirt of her dress. The groom could have passed for a groom in the states except that he was a Malagasy man speaking Malagasy. As we exited the church we did the kiss of greeting (biss biss) to the bride, groom, and both sets of in-laws with a ARAHABAINA! ( CONGRATULATIONS) to the happy family.
After the service had concluded, about an hour and half later, we all headed to the restaurant on the edge of town to wait for the new couple as they drove through the community honking their horn with their family trailing in cars behind them. The community then gets to share and offer their congratulations and recognize the couple as a new family in our community. There was so much happiness in the crowd as they went past it didn’t even matter who I was and that I looked so very different than everyone else. The restaurant was one that Joanna and I had wanted to try and there was no disappointment at all. Our meal started with a salad in traditional vinegar and oil dressing of carrots, cucumbers, eggs, onions, and cabbage on a lettuce leaf. Lunch itself was pork and chicken that is cooked in oil together over rice, which was very good with the sakay sauce they had on the table. All of it washed down by fresh guarana juice and sodas. Dessert was a fruit salad of bananas, apples, avocado, and oranges in a syrup, and, of course, the wedding cake, which matched the brides dress in pink detailing and tasted like coconut. The icing in this country tastes like butter. As we ate the dancing began and the moment the Tafindrafindray began, the opening dancing for EVERY Malagasy party, the father of the bride came right up to me to ask me for the dance. No one apparently expected me to know it and as he led me around the floor clapping and cheering ensued. I had to keep myself from laughing to loud the entire time as I didn’t want anyone to think I was embarrassed more than just enjoying myself. I danced a few more dances and then completely embarrassed myself as my date and I went up to the couple to offer our gift on behalf of the teachers here at the CEG and completely forgot to give the congratulatory kisses to the groom. As I walked away a cry of protest went up that stopped my date and I in our tracks. I didn’t know what they were saying until he looked at me and said “Oh! You didn’t kiss the handsome man!” I whirled around and scrambled back to the couples table and gave the beaming groom my congratulations amid the cheers and clapping of all the guests. I think I actually blushed in that little cultural flop.
My date and I danced a few more dances together and then left the party, much to my great relief as I had not worn anything more than flip flops for the last few months and had already almost lost my balance three different times. I got home, showered and flopped into bed, only to get a message from Joanna saying that Bridgette, who I had asked Jo to go tell I was at a wedding today, had prepared a whole meal for me and that I should go to her house with Tupperware. I jumped right back out of bed, pulled on my new sundress I had bought for my last trip and rushed down to Bridgettes house, only to find her missing at the hospital. A taxi brousse accident had happened right outside of town and everyone except for one person had died. As I waited for her I talked with her daughters, had my hair played with, which is by far one of my favorite things these days, and watched a meeting between the current and former presidents that we being held in Pretoria. ( For those of who you aren’t up on the world news, Madagascar is in the middle of a political crisis that is just getting worse and after many a meeting that didn’t actually happen, the leaders have finally gotten together although I won’t find out the news following for another week I’m sure)
Bridgette returned and fed me wonderful food that I MUST learn how to make and we chatted for a while until Joanna came to get me to go to a woman’s song and dance group practice that we have just joined. We headed up to the woman’s house and found ourselves learning very fast Malagasy lyrics that make you feel like your tongue is completely out of control and convinced it should be separated as an independent nation from the rest of you. I also got to dance which caused laughter and cheers from the crowd of kids that had formed to watch the spectacle of the two Americans learning Malagasy songs. This woman’s group is called the DongaDonga woman, which translates to short and fat, both of which I almost don’t qualify for, but they put on performances and sing on the TV about health and environmental concerns and are, absolutely, an amazing group of women and their daughters. The camaraderie was immediate with all of us as we raised our voices in song and I swung my hips with the song writer only to be rewarded with the Malagasy gesture of complete acceptance and approval of clasped hands and wrists amid laughter. In Madagascar if you can make a Malagasy person truly laugh then you will find yourself plunged in the midst of the brotherhood that identifies the Malagasy culture and you will never be seen as a stranger again.
High spirits and a tired body ended Saturday and the sleep was oh so satisfactory.
Sunday started all over again early with a pancake breakfast at Joanna’s. However, as I walked to her house I was stopped by Bridgette’s family who told me I had to meet Jo there because now she was at the hospital visiting someone. I sat and relaxed with their family, (who told me I looked beautiful to which I responded that if they kept that up I was coming over every day!) watched as Bridgette braided her three daughters thick African hair with skilled fingers, talked to her friends as they came to visit her and then got a call from my parents which always lifts my spirits a little higher. Jo finally showed up and it turned out that of the two people in the car who didn’t die, one was an Australian friend we had met on our last trip to Mahajonga who works in the local communities here to build orphanages and get funding for internal improvement projects. He was being helicopter evacuated with broken arms and other various wounds. He had seen everyone around him die due to the carelessness and neglectfulness of the driver and the fear was struck home into each of us. Now we understood why our friends in the community were so protective of us in arranging our travel every time we went anywhere. We had a feast of pancakes with two teacher friends from my school then learned guitar on her floor, her playing accompanied by my singing. I am now set on having my friend in Tana get a guitar built for me. It sounds like a fun way to pass the time and we really had fun.
We then headed off to another friends house and had a fantastic Malagasy lunch and talked for a few hours, visiting with my friend’s four year old cousin who is a Dora fan and has his English basics established. He is quite the character and took to Joanna and I immediately, offering us gifts of clay sticks which we transformed into little men and cubes of clay, much to his delight. Stuffed to the gill we headed home a few hours later giving as much thanks as we could muster while leaving at the same time. It was a fun and wonderful afternoon that was completed with yet another set of singing and dancing rehearsal with the DongaDonga again, this time with a much larger crowd and complete with a song sharing session at the end of practice in which Jo and I traded off with the other girls and women in singing songs in our own languages. It was… awesome.
And now it is Monday. I have a test to write, homework to enter in my book, an entire class to put into detention and red pants to find in market, as well as another dance practice tonight. I feel so much more attached to community as I get myself farther and farther into my community projects. Now its not just the children that know me and offer me their English greetings but their parent and other adults in my community that I sing with, dance with, or teach English to at our newly established English club, or that I have met in my interactions with my friends and their families. I am slowly and surely becoming a not so new attraction for the locals here and I love that spirit of brotherhood and kinship that is slowly spreading out to us. It’s a intrinsic basic of Malagasy culture and experiencing it first hand is one of the most amazing gifts you can ever be given.