Malagasy Lesson

I am by no means an expert in Malagasy. In all honesty, I can still only talk at the level of a 5-year-old. My sentences are mostly limited to: I'm tired/sick/hungry/late, I don't know/understand, I don't speak French, I'm going to work/church, and I'm still learning. My questions are similarly limited: When will we return home? Where are we going? Are you tired? Can I help? and Is there rice? 

My most complex interaction in Malagasy thus far has been: 

Can you please give me soap, please? 

Oh, you're washing today?

Yes, I need to wash clothes. How much?

Four hundred Ariary. 

Thank you!

Yes, thank you ma'am!

But though I am pretty hopeless at languages, I do enjoy learning (about, if nothing else) them. So here are some fun things I've learned about Malagasy during my time here in Madagascar thus far:

1. One of my favorite things about Malagasy is the way in which people are named, and the names they chose to go by. Since names are so long here- Nakaloina Irma Djujine, for a rather tame example- people tend to go by a shortened version of their name (Kalo), especially when vazaha are involved. Often though, these shortened names are actually words- the equivalent of my sister going by Grace. 

I love this, because it helps me learn these words. After calling someone "Hasina" for three months, and then learning that his name means "holy", it helps me put faces with words. 

Kalo (English teacher): melancholy chant or song

Haja (supervisor at TPFLM): respect, honor

Onja (student): wave

Hasina (employee at NMS Isoraka): holy, virtue

Lovasoa (student): good inheritance

Fitiavana (student): love

Tsiky (student): smile

Herizo (student): civil rights

Hery (wife of the pastor at Anosibe): strength 

Fiadanana (pastor's son): peace

Santatra (student): the beginning

Tanjona (student): the protruding shoulder of a mountain, peninsula 

Toky (musician we played with in Antsirabe): trust, confidence 

Mr. Fidy (driver of the pastor): to be chosen

Anjaka (works at Isoraka NMS): from mpanjaka, king/queen/royalty 

2. Part of culture here that is so apparent it hurts, is how much life revolves around rice. Rice is so important here, a part of everyday life. Even I, in a big city, see this. I sure it's even more apparent in smaller villages. When I ask my students to make dialogues to practice English, they almost always manage to work rice in there somehow. One of my favorites has been: "traffic jams grow like rice here!" (Which, as it happens, is very true) 

These are just a few of the many, many words I've found relating to rice in some way:

Vary: rice 

Vary akotry: unhulled rice

Vary ampangoro: rice cooked dry 

Fotsim-bary: clean white rice ready for cooking 

Varimbazaha: wheat (foreigners rice) 

Vary lena: thieves who stick together 

Mandry fotsy: to go to bed without eating rice 

Mingadona: to make a thumping sound when pounding rice

Mihosy: to trample mud in the rice fields

Ranon'ampango: burnt rice water! Yummmmmy!! :) 

Salohy: a head of rice

Mandoatra loa-bary: the act of serving rice out of the pot 

Ketsa: young rice plants to be transplanted 

Tanin-ketsa: a seedbed where rice is planted 

3. Then there are the fun, impossible words that I call "Malagasy onomatopoeias". I can only say them when I'm looking at it written down, but they're so fun:

Manakitikitika (mah-nah-kee-tee-kee-tee-kah): to tickle

Misasasasa (mee-sah-sah-sah-sah): to sound like rushing water, falling rain, or rustling leaves

Mikofokofoka (mee-koo-foo-koo-foo-kah): to fidget, to be continuously anxious

Dobodobohana (doo-boo-doo-boo-hah-nah): a thumping sound like a drum

Mibitsibitsika (mee-bee-tsee-bee-tsee-kah): to whisper 

Mikakakaka (mee-kah-kah-kah-kah): to laugh loudly 

Mikiakiaka (mee-kee-ah-kee-ah-kah): to cry out piercingly 

Mikikikiky (mee-kee-kee-kee-kee): to giggle

4. One of the best things about languages are the ways in which words are compounded to form new words. A second best thing about language, in my opinion, are the words that are so close together that you run the risk of saying the wrong thing completely (think hungry and angry, or last and list or content and content in English). 

Fiadanana (fee-ah-dah-nah-nah): peace

Fiadiana (fee-ah-dee-ah-nah): the act of fighting 

These two are interesting- one small syllable change and you move from the state of peace to the state of fighting. Not two that we tend to group together in English- peace and war are complete opposites, in meaning as well as in spelling and pronunciation. 

Lalana (lah-lah-nah): road, the way

Lalana (lah-lah-nah): a law

I love this paring- a different emphasis changes the word completely, but yet I can see the relation. The law is the only way in which to act. At least, that's how I rationalize it in my mind. 

Otrika: an ambush

Otri-po: spite, malice 

Malice and spite are defined literally as an ambush in the heart. (Fo, changed here to po, is the heart). 

Raraka: spilled, scattered

Reraka: tired

This pairing has given me so much trouble these past 9 months. My problem has to do with how vowels are pronounced in Malagasy as opposed to English. A says ah, E says a, I says e, and O says oo. Yikes! So, when I want to say tired, I often end up saying "rahrahka" instead, which is to say, I'm scattered. Fitting, in a way. 

Sokatra: turtle

Sakotra: hat

Sarotra: difficult

I cannot get these three words straight to save my life. Sookahtchra, sahkootchra, and sahrootchra all sound exactly the same to me. For the past four months, I have not been able to use the words turtle, hat, or difficult in my conversations. Whenever anyone uses one of those when talking to me, I have to do my best to guess which one they mean based on context clues. Given my already limited understanding of Malagasy, that's led to some pretty hilarious misunderstandings... 

"You're going to the market to buy turtle?!" (Definitely was a hat) 

"Your head is difficult?" (Nope, they needed a hat) 

"Your son's turtle has a hat?" (Her son had a turtle hat... You can find some strange stuff shopping the markets here)

"You can't eat hats in the south? I mean... Do we eat hats here?" (Actually, you can't eat turtles in the south- apparently hats are still on the menu)

5. Some of my all-time-favorite Malagasy words:

Folaka: broken, but still holding together

This sounds so much prettier to me than our English alternatives- hanging on by a thread, hanging in there... This sounds more positive, somehow. 

Mangirangirana: to have cracks through which the light can shine

Absolute love. I know it's meant to describe objects, but I like thinking about it in terms of people. When we're broken, flawed, it allows our inner light to shine through. #deep

Mampifanosontsosona: to complicate things

How fitting is that?! I'll be honest, I can't even pretend pronounce this at all.

Tsiky (ts-ee-kee): smile

Try saying that without smiling. Try it. It's impossible. 

Miteriteritra (mee-ter-ree-ter-reet-ch-rah): to think 

Mostly I'm just proud of being able to say this word. I worked on it for two weeks with my host mother before finally getting it (or at least, close enough to pass).

Matanjaka: strong, of living things only

Every vazaha who learns Malagasy has that one word, that one phrase, that makes people smile when you say it. You don't choose it; it is chosen for you. It isn't the same as other vazaha. Mine is matanjaka. Whenever someone says "oh it took you 3 hours to do laundry? You must be tired!" Or "my friend lives far away, we should take the bus" or even "it's been a long day"-- if I respond with "yes, but I am strong!" it always garners a laugh. 

Fetsy: deviously clever, cunning, sharp

The most useful word in the history of language; observe:

Child steals a goose? Fetsy. 

Someone goes through the offering line twice in order to get two helpings of candy after? Fetsy. 

One of your students tries to teach you the "Malagasy phrase for telling someone they look pretty", but really is trying to get you to ask everyone to be your girlfriend/boyfriend? Fetsy. 

The cat jumps on the table to steal food from the plate when Dad has his back turned, then jumps down before he turns back? Fetsy. 

Your supervisor "helpfully" tells you "Malagasy customs", which of course turn out to be a bunch of pranks designed to make you look like an idiot? Fetsy... 

Old lady cuts in front of everyone at the bus stop when no one but the vazaha is looking? Fetsy! 

Your dad steals a meatball from the platter every time your mom has her back turned, until he has too many meatballs in his mouth to speak and so he fakes a coughing attack when she accuses him of taking them? Festy, hihihihi. Festy be. 

**all of these are things that actually happened**

6. Finally, the words that are going to be the hardest to not use anymore when I go back to the states:

Tafangy-- an empty Eau Vive water bottle (usually the 1.5L ones) 

Mahay!-- roughly means "understand" or "know", but is often used to say "you are very good at/knowledgable of/good job!" (As in 'mahay mihira' or 'mahay miteny gasy!') 

Azafady-- sorry, please, and excuse me all rolled into one

Manahoana-- how are you/good morning/hello

Sakay-- crushed chili hot "sauce" 

Zay-- all meanings; can be a question, an answer, or just a filler

Misoatra-- thank you 

Maditra-- stubborn, disobedient (used about children, cows, sometimes even inanimate objects if you're being funny) 

Mahafinaritra-- to be pleasant/enjoyable, nice/beautiful 

Voky-- full, satisfied; a compliment to the host of a meal

Tsara-- good

Tsy mety-- not acceptable, not good

Tsy maninona-- no problem/worries, it's ok

Mazotoa!-- enjoy! 

Rakitra-- offering

Transportation- The Taxibe

My reactions to what was my first experience with public transportation in Madagascar, a direct quote from my journal made the day of my first venture out in Antsirabe:

"First taxi-brusse ride today, 9/12/15. It's a fascinating system. At first, it doesn't seem to make very much sense. But as chaotic and crazy as it first appears, there's also a beautifully efficient pattern to the hectic-ness. Taxi-brusses look a little bit like hollowed out VW vans....or the shape does, anyway. There's two seats in the front next to the driver, and then two rows of two seats on either side of the taxi-brusse. And by seat, I mean a seat by Malagasy standards. When it gets full, you're smashed together relentlessly. There's a sliding side door, and then two back doors that swing open. The "conductor" stands at the back, collecting money and closing the door by a canvas strap attached to the roof. A lot of times, he jumps on right after the taxi-brusse has started moving, hanging out the door partially until he pulls the door closed after himself. 

When all of the actual "seats" are full, the conductor keeps letting people on, but hands each of the new passengers some kind of board- some were about a foot wide and padded, others were just a narrow plank, like a 2x4. They'd carry the plank to the front (because you board at the back and fill up front to back) and everyone in the front row stands up, the guy puts his plank down with an edge on each seat, and everyone sits back down. There are now 5 seats in a row, not 4. 

When people get off, and are sitting towards the front, they climb out the side door. The conductor man comes around the side, sticks a hand inside the window and opens the sliding door. The people in the second row jump off, the person who's getting off shuffles out, the second row people shuffle back on, and everyone else squishes further up. The conductor shuts the door, the taxi-brusse starts rolling forward, and the conductor jumps on the moving van and pulls the door shut behind him. 

It's a very oddly efficient system."

By now I have discovered that these buses that operate within the city are called taxibes (literally big taxi) and not taxibrusses (literally bush taxi). I consider myself to be somewhat of an expert on the taxibe now, since I ride one at least 2 times a week (more often 3 or 4) to get to one of my site placements in Tana. The taxibe is actually my preferred method of travel in this country so far- I love the bus.

One reason I love the taxibe so much is because it is so unexpected for a vazaha to be riding the bus, that the reactions of people are just wonderful. People smile and point and laugh (sounds terrifying but it's actually a nice thing) when they see your glaringly white face on the bus. Other passengers, conductors and drivers strike up conversations. Taxi drivers laugh admiringly when you turn down their offer with "mandeha taxibe aho, fa misoatra!" (I take the bus, but thanks!) Being able to hail a bus, and successfully board it, from the side of the road gives you a feeling of accomplishment like none other. You meet the most interesting people and feel a bit more like you belong in this country when you're smashed inside with 25 other Malagasy, chickens, babies, and strange "luggage". 

Honestly, it is still a hectic mess and I love it. 

In fact, I finished this blog on Monday (though I neglected to post it until now) because I had an unexpected day off of work-- the taxibes were striking and there was no way I was going to walk the 8km into Tana. Chaos. Beautiful beautiful chaos. 

I wouldn't trade the taxibe for anything, and I think it is one of the parts I will miss the most about living and working in Tana. 

Here are some of the best tips and tricks I have collected in the past 7 months: 

-The best seats are (in order of preference): last single seat on the right, one of the front seats next to the driver, first seat on the left behind the driver, and any seat next to the window. 

-The length of a full line trip (for me, from Ankarobato-my home- to Anosibe-my work) is 400 Ariary. Pay with a diman-zato when possible---- paying with a 500 will get you back a zato, which is perfect for rakitra (offering). Keep your hymnal with you at all times- when you get back a zato as change, stick it in your hymnal immediately so you aren't tempted to use it for anything but rakitra. 

-If you are far away from the "conductor", he will yell out the amount you paid and the number of fares you paid-- for example, if I passed back a 500 note for just me, he'd yell "diman-zato, iray!"-- when you hear your combination, stick your hand in the air and your change will be passed along to you. 

-If you pay with a 1000 Ariary note, some conductors will say the amount in francs, as it is easier to say "cinq-cents" than "iray arivo". It took me over a month to figure this out. 

-Learn the names of the bus stops on your typical routes!! This can save you money, as shorter routes are less money. When you hand your money to the conductor, say the name of your stop (if it isn't the last stop). Some conductors will also ask, "Aiza?" to which you respond the name of your stop. 

-There are two ways of learning the names of the stops-- listening and asking. Listen to the conductor, who will yell out the names of each stop about a minute before arriving to it. Or ask your neighbor, "Inona ny anarana eto?" (What is the name here?) when you are stopped. As a bonus, they're usually very happy that you are speaking Malagasy and will continue the conversation- which is more practice time for you! 

-Stops are not guaranteed!! You must listen for the conductor, who will yell out the names of the stops and ask "Miala Anakarobato ve?" (Is there a stop at Ankarobato?). When he names your stop, yell "misy miala!" (there's a stop) and put your hand up. If the conductor isn't paying attention and forgets to ask, you might have to yell "misy miala Ankarobato" about a minute before your usual stop. 

-It takes time, but eventually you learn to be slightly rude when getting on and off the bus. You're gonna hit people in the head with your bag, you're gonna step on some toes, and you're gonna accidentally elbow the guy next to you while you're digging for change. Know this. Become okay with it. It is an acceptable part of taxibe culture. 

-On the same note, when trying to catch a taxibe during rush hour (not recommended, avoid at all costs) use your American-sized bulk to your advantage. There is no such thing as "an orderly line" in Madagascar-- there is a pack of people all pushing to get on the same van. If you are polite, you will literally never catch a bus. Run toward the bus with everyone else, and once you get close to the door, use your bigger size to block other people from the door (brace yourself against the more aggressive younger men) until you can climb on. 

-On the street, if you see the bus you want coming towards you, beckon to the driver with a hand clawing toward yourself. This is the Malagasy version of our finger curl, to say "come here". The bus often will slow down to a roll, but not stop. The common response to this is to trot towards the bus, wait until the conductor opens the door, and jump on. Grab onto the ladder on the left door while planting your right foot on the back step and pull yourself on. Don't be alarmed when the conductor puts an arm around your shoulders to help pull you on and prevent you from falling off backwards- this is normal (not just for vazaha, or even just for women, this is normal for all people). 

-It is exceedingly polite to offer your seat to older people if you are sitting on the outside, by the aisle, and an old person is about to sit in the aisle on a plank. Stand up and offer "afaka mipetraka eto", while moving out into the aisle. (Also note, it is also acceptable and polite to use the terms dadabe and bebe--grandfather and grandmother--to refer to old men and women, though I have only pulled it off on the taxibe and nowhere else)

-Sing along with the radio when you know the songs! It often turns into a big sing-along, and you make people smile when you show that you (kind of) know Malagasy songs. My crowd pleaser is definitely 'Za Leo' by ODYAI, though I only know the chorus. 

-Finally, learn to be laid back and have fun with it. Stuff happens. You have no control over the taxibe. The sooner you accept this and find the humor in it, the better off you will be. 

I wish everyone could experience the taxibe at least once, as it is one of my favorite parts of living in Madagascar, surprisingly enough, but it's near impossible to describe. I've barely scratched the surface here, though I hope it was at least marginally useful for some! 

Transportation- The TaxiBrusse

In my 7 or so months in Madagascar, I have observed and slowly figured out a bit more how transportation in this country works (or doesn't). First off, some terminology: the "buses" that go between cities are called taxi-brusses, and the buses within each city and suburb network are called taxibes. Taxis are just like yellow cabs in America, except here they're tan-yellow and about 20 years to old to function. Motos can refer to motorcycles or scooters. 

I take the taxibe at least twice a week into Tana to work at the printy press. I've also taken multiple brusses now, both short term and long term ones. I have also traveled by private car, taxi, moto, and even (a very unfortunate trip) by train. The only transportation I have not yet experienced in this country has been short trip plane rides or boats, though there is still time! I thought I'd expound some on my travel experiences thus far, which I will break up into 3 parts: The TaxiBrusse, The TaxiBe, and Miscellaneous. 

Without further ado, here is installment 1- The TaxiBrusse. 

Long brusse rides can be either miserable or fairly enjoyable depending on the company you ride with, the driver, and pure luck. I've gone from Antananarivo to Fianarantsoa, Manakara to Fianarantsoa, and Fianarantsoa to Antananarivo- all trips of around 8-10 hours. Every big city has a brusse station, which looks more like a large outdoor flea market with lots and lots of large vans. The day (or two) before traveling, you want to go to the station and reserve a space. 

Most of my experiences have been at Fasakarana, the massive taxibrusse station in Tana. (The experience seems to be generally similar in other cities, but just blown way out of proportion in Tana). As soon as you get close to the station, packs of men will surround you and start yelling "Aiza?!" or the names of various cities. Eventually, once you tell them the name of where you are headed, one or two will 'claim' you as a customer and the rest filter away to look for others. The men or man who have claimed you will lead you through an endless maze of stalls, to the company they work for. 

Now, once you get there, you are not committed to traveling with their company- most companies going to your desired city will be in the same area, so shop around if you like. Some people prefer to look around and check out the various brusses, others like a sense of adventure and just go with the first company that claims them. (I go with the latter strategy, mostly because I get too overwhelmed with all of the noise and people) Prices will be, for the most part, consistent across companies. For example, Tana to Fianar is 26.000 Ariary. Once you settle on a company, people will 'mandrosoa' you into their stall where you will get a ticket. You have the option of paying in full or part advance; the seller will take your name and number down and stamp your ticket. 

If there is an option, strategically pick your seat. As a vazaha, you will no doubt have noticed that Madagascar is just not built to handle your size. Accept it, and plan accordingly when possible. Seats next to the driver are often ideal, though hard to come by. They offer the most leg room. Next best options are either the first or last row, by the windows, and is entirely a matter of personal opinion. I prefer the back row window seats, as then there are no people climbing out over me. Also, the back windows generally open wide enough that you can climb out through the windows when it is time for bush breaks or mealtimes. (Pro tip: You do not want to be the last one out or in of the brusse for breaks, ever) If those four are taken, try for a window seat in general. Avoid middle seats or anything that looks like it might be an 'aisle': this is not a plane; aisles are generally no wider than my foot. Literally. 

On the day of traveling, there is a game of strategy that must be played. It is called fotoan-gasy (Malagasy time), and it is an exercise in a convoluted social version of game theory. Simply put, you don't want to be the first nor the last to arrive. In practice, it is much more complicated. Everyone anticipates that everyone else will also be a little late, and in order to minimize waiting time you must adjust your planned arrival time accordingly. It takes years to master, or so I'm told. I have not yet mastered the art of fotoan-gasy, but I generally aim to show up a half hour or so after I'm told and it generally works okay. 

As an example: the brusse from Tana to Finar- one of my first- said it left at 3 p.m. I arrived at 2:30, like a good American. Unfortunately I was the very first one to show. The brusse actually left at 5. The masters of fotoan-gasy arrived at 4:15 or 4:30. Much later, you run the risk of making people angry for having to wait for you. It is a very complex dance. 

The last brusse I took, Fianar to Tana, had a leaving time of 7:30. I aimed to arrive around 8, and with traffic and the like actually got to the station around 8:15 or so. The brusse left at 9. Almost pro status! 

Once the brusse leaves, settle in and enjoy the ride- or at least, try not to be miserable.

 

Some tips: 

-Women should strongly consider wearing long skirts for bush breaks; and when there is a break, follow the other women. Generally, men head to one side of the road and women stay on the other. 

-For meal breaks, eat as quickly as possible. Meal breaks tend to be around 30 minutes- including any bathroom breaks, paying for and ordering your food, and getting in and out of the brusse. Don't mess around. Haul yourself out of the window and grab the waitress's attention immediately; eat as soon as you get any food in front of you. 

-Bring snacks and water with you. Sometimes, the hotelys the driver chooses to stop at are out of food. It happens. You'll be very grateful for the gouty and salto you have with you. 

-Wear or pack a sweater, long sleeve shirt, or lamba hoany, particularly if traveling through the highlands in the evening. It gets cold. Very cold. 

-Always travel with motion sickness pills. Madagascar roads can challenge even the strongest of stomachs, and completing successful trips before is not an indicator of how your current trip will go. 

-When departing the taxibrusse at your destination station, do not let anyone "help" you grab your bags from the top of the brusse. More likely than not, they are a taxi driver who will try to put your bags immediately into his taxi. Learn to say "tsy mila, fa misoatra" (don't need, but thanks). 

-If you do want to take a taxi, negotiate a price before handing over your bags or getting into the car. At Fasakarana, taxi drivers have cards like backstage passes around their necks, verifying that they actually are drivers. Do not trust anyone who doesn't have one of these cards. 

-Stick with the older women or older men. A few words of conversation with them during a meal break or while in transit, and they will generally look out for you. Many times I've been saved from a slightly sketchy situation with a pushy taxi driver in a dark station by a group of grandmothers. 

There are also shorter taxibrusses between cities and smaller villages. I've taken a few of these as well, Tana to Analavory, Antsirabe to Tana, and Fianar to Ranomafana. These are less enjoyable than longer brusse rides, which seems counterintuitive at first. However, short brusse rides (both of mine were around 4 hours) can be very rough on the traveler. For one thing, the brusse itself tends to be smaller- instead of an actual bus-ish vehicle, you more often get a large van. In addition to that, because the ride is "so short" passengers are packed in. On a long brusse ride, there are 4 seats per row and 4 people per row. On a short brusse ride, there are 4 seats per row and 5 or 6 people per row. Reservations are not a thing for short rides (in my experience, people just look at you like you're crazy), so don't attempt to use your fotoan-gasy skills- resign yourself to waiting and show up early in order to get a decent seat. Short brusse rides also tend to carry more cargo, which means that you may end up holding someone's child for them or sitting face to face with a rooster that's tucked under a mans arm. Out of the 5 short rides I've been on, 4 of them were miserable. On the bright side, they're only 3 or 4 hours, and generally cheap (around 5.000 Ariary). The trickiest bit can be finding the 'station' in small villages- generally, just a stand on the side of the road. Ask around, or watch for areas on the main (paved) road that seem to attract large numbers of vans. 

Riding the taxibrusse in Madagascar is one of, in my opinion, the most quintessential Malagasy experiences you can possibly have. It is often miserable. But it's also a part of life here, a beautifully flawed way of moving around. Besides, you get some killer stories! 

As an example- the latest brusse I was on was by far the best. I was coming back to Tana from Fianarantsoa. I was in the last row of the brusse, next to the window and by a stroke of luck, with an empty seat next to me. Across the "aisle" (told you, literally the width of my foot) was a very nice young lady and her baby. We exchanged pleasantries in the beginning before settling to listen to the ParadisaGasy radio that was being blasted throughout the brusse. When we stopped for lunch, I pulled myself out through the window without flashing anyone in my skirt (it's taken time but I'm finally almost at semi-pro brusse riding level!) and was about to walk to the hotely, when I heard the young woman behind me. 

Her: "Azafady-" 

Me: *turn around* "Aika?" 

Her: "Afaka maka ny zaza ve ianao?" 

Me: "Azafady?!" 

Her: "Zay" *passes baby through window* 

Me: "......uh......." *takes baby* 

Baby: *promptly starts crying* 

Every other passenger: *starts staring at the vazaha who made the baby cry, thinking I did something to her* 

Me: *to the baby* "......uh...... Aza mitomany, zaza. Aza mataotra..." *to the woman* "Mataotra izy!" 

Her: *jumps out the window gracefully and takes back baby*

We, of course, repeated the process climbing back into the brusse and again when we arrived at Fasakarana. 

Ask anyone who has spent significant time in Madagascar about the brusse, and I guarantee they will have at least one similar or better story. Where else are you going to get this kind of experience?

Stay tuned for the next installment of the Madagascar transportation series!