Story #6: Dreams

It’s funny what a quick trip home can do. Before I left Madagascar for my “one-month home leave” I felt without any doubt that staying here for a third year was exactly where I wanted to be. Back to the processed hustle and bustle of American Life no way, not for me.  I was surprised to find that I was falling in love with America. Even now I am reminiscing about my trip home and nostalgically brushing over the rough parts, turning the shit into gold. How powerful the mind can be as it tries to make sense of a reality that no longer exists.

Upon closer inspection, I realized being home was really shocking me. Life as I knew it in America is a memory. Things that used to elicit great joy in me merely sparked a faint buzz of complacent recognition. I’m talking serious things that used to stir my heart: driving with the windows down with my DJ AM mix on Van Ness through the heart of San Francisco, crossing the Bay Bridge at night and seeing the whole bridge light up along the edges, or feeling the city buzz with life looking for a parking spot in the Mission.

This time I was just thinking damn my AM mix is way outdated, that annoying S-curve is still here I forgot about that, and WHERE are the hipsters I came here to hate. They all seem so young and why did I derive pleasure from being such a sinister grandpa shitting on some 21 year old’s big night out. What kind of asshole does that? Then I realized it’s happened. Madagascar has made me soft.

Now I’m back in Madagascar processing everything I’ve seen in the last month and a half… Comparing and contrasting lifestyles of the rich and famous and the complete opposite. Sometimes I wonder if I am living on two planets.

The first week of my vacation my family took a little outing to Waikiki where we sat poolside at the Hyatt every day and limited our daily activity to how many times we roll from tummy to back, back to tummy to hit the best angle to optimize our tans. We’d sprinkle in little shopping trips every hour or so around lunch and dinner plans. We’d strategize our days by deciding on ‘beach to pool’ or ‘pool to beach’ ending with spa? root beer floats? Yes/No?

After that I drove down to Irvine, Suburbia! at its finest to visit my family down there. We did all the Asian suburban things like explore the latest new Asian snack food, which I learned was Confetti- a mixture of snow and yogurt. What trip to suburbia is complete without going to Starbucks at least 100 times and eating at Panera bread for your cousin’s half hour lunch break, taking advantage of free Wi-Fi.

When I passed through LA, I met up with a guy that a friend of a friend’s pointed me to that owns http://www.SoullyOrganic.com. If you buy ginger from Whole Foods, you’ve probably bought his ginger from Peru. Yes, all $8.99/lbs. (It’s currently going for 500 Ariary/kilo here in Madagascar. About $0.25. Perspective.) His name is Rick and I’d been talking on email with him on and off throughout my two years here regarding my work with the ginger cooperative. We were able to set up a time and meet in person. 

Which was the coolest thing! 

To see how ginger is done in America compared to a developing country. It made me really patriotic. 

Unfortunately, we or I realized it would be a hefty undertaking to be able to export produce from my cooperative to California- mainly because we have no start-up capital. We’d have to ask for grants to get the Organic certification, packaging, basically everything.  

Which made me so sad. 

It makes me really sad on a deep level to see people who should be rewarded for their hard work left scouring at the bottom. 

At this point my cooperative, due to lack of income, is dangerously close to becoming null. I was, however, able to set up a turmeric buy with Rick if certain extraordinary conditions are met. Just in case you’re wondering, this includes: 

         

- Purchasing and obtaining the organic certification for the turmeric.

2        - Locating about 1.5 metric tonnes of turmeric here in Madagascar.

3        - Purchasing and labeling packaging suited for exporting.

4        - Obtaining a US permit to import turmeric.

5       - Obtaining a cost-effective, reliable shipper

So we’ll see how the story will end. Notice how many times the word purchase pops up on my to-do list. Very depressing. But I know that If I don’t venture into exporting with my cooperative, there is a high probability that no one ever will. Which makes me so sad for Malagasy farmers. Im trying so hard to do everything that I can, but the reality is I am operating in disagreeable conditions. Ok, antagonistic conditions.

 

So now I’m back.

I’ve gone from the excesses of American society to the savage reality of impoverished Africa. Needless to say my brain is fried! I’m having trouble accepting that people really live in this reality. I mean I was just eating fondue with my cousin in Irvine three weeks ago.

Am I in the Twilight zone… I’m just waiting for the elevator to drop and realize this is a just a thrill ride at Disneyland that I can get off.

That’s the whole thing too, I can get off. When I’ve had enough. I can get a real job and make loads of money. I can move forward with my life and pretend none of this ever existed in my life.

On my way here to Moramanga I was on the bus and we passed a bunch of tourists taking pictures of village kids with their huge cameras and I thought how strange it was. They were treating the village kids like zoo animals.  

Wow, It’s a real life poor African kid. This vacation is amazing!

But the truth is sometimes I don’t see how I am different from those tourists…

Outtie.

Dedicated to two of my four students Nandrandraina (Lepapa) and Rija who went from not knowing how to write or hold a pencil, to skipping three grades and passing the government administered elementary school graduation test, the CEPE. 

Way to go guys, I talk a lot of shit but you kids inspire me everyday. If you ever see this, and I know someday you will, you to me are the real faces of Madagascar and will stay with me long after I've left.

 “The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams” –Eleanor Roosevelt