A family of foxes comes to town

The four-year-old Midgley drawing foxes while his brothers are busy with homeschooling: 

This is the mommy fox - she's 28. This is the daddy - he's 96. (We figure he's seen too many old Frenchmen in Madagascar with young Malagasy girls.) And this is the uncle fox. He's always angry (I take offence at that.)

Decrepit daddy fox with some of the kids.

Mommy fox

The angry uncle fox. I wonder where the child gets his inspiration?

And at dinner the other night: "I had a big crush on the stairs!" I, personally, always had crushes on girls. Perhaps he really really likes the staircase in his new house. Maybe he just fell down in a heap with a big crash... But who knows with the strange little four-year-old!

Buzz lightear

Anri explaining to her class where exactly the mosquito was.

Both Sue and I are eternally grateful for having our dear friend Anri-Louise in Madagascar because she lightens the mood and keeps us in stitches daily. We aren't too sure how she keeps so optimistic with all the outlandish things that happen to her.

Just this morning she sent an sms to both Sue and me asking if we had any idea how to remove a dead mosquito from one's ear. She was most put out that we both responded with laughter and no remedy.

We're now calling her "Buzz Light-ear"

Weird rides

I have often mentioned the varied and bizarre modes of transport one finds in Madagascar - from the antique Citroën 2CVs and Renault 4s, to the ox carts, to the bicycles with more passengers than what they were designed for, and to the modern luxury vehicles. Here are just a couple of pics I snapped while out on the road - either on my motorbike, my bicycle or while driving a car (therefore not great pics). And I've seen many more bizarre things that I haven't had the time to photograph. All of these photos, bar the one of the two ladies in the rice paddies, were taken on the main road to the airport here in Tana. Yes, the main road. This incongruous mix of wheels invariably causes unamusing snarl-ups. The Malagasies have a saying, "slowly, slowly." You can see why..

A half-Century flashback to France - two Citroën 2CVs ...

Need wheels? No problem. (The photo would have been perfect if the car had someone behind the wheel too...)

Zebu cart with its old, experienced driver.

It's the end of the month and time to move house. This cart would cost one between $1 and $2.50 to hire with the "driver".

A similar cart, with similar prices, except that it doesn't take as much (no matter how hard one tries.)

Three siblings on their way home from school (and yes, this one too is on the main road to the airport.)

Motorbike breaks down? Just strap it to a taxi's roof. Who cares about the taxi's brakes, shocks and suspension?!?

Transporting geese. The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals would not approve.

No transport? Our heads will do just fine.

A mom and her boys

I took these pics of little moments of interaction between Sue and three of her boys. It's a beautiful thing to see a mom interacting lovingly with her boys, just as it's completely different, but equally as special, to see how a dad interacts with his kids...

After the youngest's bath-time

An intimate moment with the second-youngest

Contemplating the new home with the second-eldest

Story-time with the two youngest

Long live Lego

Isn't it amazing how Lego can take over a whole room, and a whole house if allowed to? But then, I guess that's why this room is called the toy room... (At the Midgley's new home, or as they call it here, a "villa".)

Lego dominates the railroad...

Old-style transport for the Lego Clone Wars figurine and death ray.

Former neighbours, soon to be

Whenever I'm just popping home quickly I don't ride all the way to my property, but park some way off where it's easier to get out again quickly. It's right opposite the home of three of my most ardent "fans" - three little boys. When they hear me pull up their garden gate bursts open and they stand there waving and saying hello to the "vazaha". We do at least 10 "Salut vazaha", "salut les enfants", "salut vazaha", "salut les 'gasies" ... before they will let me go.

And often they gesture for me to come into their yard to show me something noteworthy - like a new toy, or tin cup, or baby sibling...

Proud grandpa with the latest little addition to the family

"Doh! Ah, man, the vazaha with the camera is here again."
"Arggggghhhh! I'll scare him off with my mean look."
"Ha ha ha, you guys are so funny!"

Dirty-faced. "Now we're really living!"

the 'gasy power utility from hell

My "romantic" dinner setting. Fortunately I enjoy my own company

As much as it is my intention to blog every day, or close to that, every now and then life just conspires to mess up my best-laid plans...

Firstly, what with being sick, I just haven’t had the energy to write engaging, witty posts (hopefully some of the pictures have made up for the lack of well-written words), and then yesterday evening, while writing a post in my head on my way home I was caught in a huge, violent thunderstorm. I was soaked instantly and arrived at the guesthouse looking something like a drowned lemur. I had a quick shower and then the power went out – on our whole side of the city (as a result of the storm, not me taking a shower). It never returned.

All I could do was have a half-percolated lukewarm cup of coffee and then sit down to a romantic supper by candlelight ... on my own. But it was a pretty good supper – piping hot Moussaka, salad and a home-made pie and ice cream. And with no power, all I could then do was wait for a few tardy guests to arrive, get them safely installed in their rooms and head to bed.

P.S. (This is for the benefit of my mother). I spent much of Monday morning at the local Lutheran Maternity ward, which just happens to have a functioning X-ray machine. I did feel a bit out of place amongst all of the pregnant ladies, and snot-nosed children, but I eventually had my chest x-rayed from a multitude of aspects to see if there was anything worse than just allergies causing all of my coughing. Eventually the doctor called me into his rooms, looking most perplexed. I half expected him to tell me I was in my second trimester.

He asked me if I was a smoker. “No,” I answered. “Never have, and I would never do that to the baby...” (I thought of answering). He then asked if I was a drinker. (I’m not sure of the relevance seeing as he hadn’t x-rayed my liver). “No,” I again answered. He pointed out my lungs on the x-rays, indicating what was normal, and then showed me a band stretching all the way up the lungs, that “was a big big problem,”  to use his words.

“What’s the problem,” I asked. “I don’t know!” was his disconcerting answer, “but this is not normal.” 

I then spoke to my doctor, the American specialist from the 7^th Day Adventist Clinic across town, who still believes that Tana’s pollution and my mouldy house are causing most of my breathing/coughing issues (which could explain why my lungs look like a smoker’s). He’s not around right now, but on Friday morning I’ll head across town once again for him to interpret the “big big problem” for himself... In the meantime I’m breathing much better since using a surgeon’s mask while navigating the traffic on my bike, and since I’ve moved into the guesthouse and out of mould-central at my home (which I have now given notice on, and will be moving out of next month). I have a new home to move into from next month – one where my windows can stay open all day, and I can enjoy breathing fresh air all night long. Ahhhh...

Now if only the electricity would return.

Some of the neighbours

Yesterday I wrote about a little walk I took in the neighbourhood where I'm housesitting. I showed a few shots of some of the "things" in the area - homes, churches, landscape etc. Here are some of the people I met (there are quite a few pics, not all of which are brilliant pieces of photography, but I couldn't decide which ones to leave out!) I'm sure I don't need to tell you that if you click on the pics you'll get bigger, better versions...

Two boys on their way home from school for lunch.
They'll return to school for around two hours' lessons later in the afternoon.

Two little children with an old truck tyre as a play-ring.

A young school girl we came across. She had the sweetest nature.

A side-of-the-road welder. He was welding a cart, a door and security bars for windows
- all just where people were walking. (Now that's walk-by clientele.)
I love the "welder's goggles" - a cheap pair of sunglasses.

A typical old Malagasy man - life etched in his face.

The lady running the local "canteen" - also at the side of the road
- just outside one of the local high schools.

Girl in the cosmos... I love these flowers.
And suddenly she popped up in their midst, beaming!

One of the slightly more "formal" canteens which serves
pretty much anyone who bothers to stop ... Samoosas,
Crepes, bread and the ever-present rice dishes.

And finally... the little girl sitting on the doorstep
to her house eating a delicious, succulent "mielie"

A walk to meet the neighbours

I had been sick in bed for about five days, was booked off school for the week and was just starting to feel human again on Friday, and so I took a little stroll around my temporary community at lunch time (admittedly not the perfect time for taking photos). Here are some of the photos of landscapes, buildings and other "things" I came across. Pics of people will follow tomorrow...

A church. On an opposite hill. I love the ruins to the left. They speak of decay and rebuilding.

A home. Detail in the bricks, the windows. Typical.

A tomb. Another sight seen throughout Tana - some well maintained, others overgrown.
But one thing that is common to most tombs is that they are on prime land -
the Malagasies to a large extent honour the dead much higher than the living. Tragic.

A front door. Yes, true, someone's front door, with their address scrawled across the top portion.

As much as I love the architecture of this land, I suspect I will enjoy posting the photos of the people tomorrow much more. I just love people-pictures - with the depth of life told in their faces, their eyes and (in the elderly) many years of deep-etched lines...

A scene to end the day

I was riding home at the end of the day on the beautiful old beast... I snapped a pic left and one right... Tana can be beautiful in the right light. But then so can anything - it's how you choose to look at it!

Away from the sunset, lone fisherman

Taxi Be crossing between the lakes

Linking to:
Read my feeds weekend

Donos: Kind of like Dodos, but not extinct

Little alien at the front door

This post focuses on Evan, the little alien four-year-old from wherever he feels like being on a particular day. He's at the age where everything needs to be contrary to others. So, I hear these kinds of things coming out of his mouth:

Him, sitting with a biscuit in his hand: "Mommy can I please have a biscuit?"

His Mom: "No, you've still got one in your hand!"

Him: "No I don't!" (Not even trying to conceal it)

His dad to him on the front porch: "Evan, watch out for the braai (barbecue) behind you. It's really hot!"

Half turning to face his dad he replies: "It's not behind me, it's next to me!"

The other morning, he was running around the house shouting: "I'm a Dono, I'm a Dono." His mother asked if he didn't mean a Dodo? "No," he replied, "A Dono - it's like a Dodo, but faster." (And less extinct, clearly)

Heard yesterday:

Evan: "Daddy?!?"

An older brother: "He's in the toy room, Evan."

(After checking) Evan: "No he isn't. The chair is all alone in there."

And finally, two funny little ones ... Yesterday morning, all the boys were making names and characters for themselves, and Evan (the youngest of the five brothers), at the end of his creativity and very upset asked, "But what can I be?!?"

"Why not be Numbnuts the baby Husky?" suggested his dad. Fortunately they don't have many visitors to their home, because every time anyone arrived our little alien would bound up to them and say, "I'm Numbnuts, I'm Numbnuts!" It took his dad a while to convince him that it wasn't the most affirming name in the world, and that he should seek another. I thought it sounded like the perfect name for a little Husky that keeps running into inanimate objects!

South Africa has a breakfast cereal brand called Weet-Bix. This morning Evan asked to have "Wheat pups" for breakfast. That just sounds wrong - like hot dogs...

And that's that for the day. If I don't run into you again soon, have a hilarious weekend, and to help, why not run across to Laugh with us Blog where Esther shares an incomprehensible thing her daughter said, that actually makes a lot of sense!

Evan on his pushbike

The toothpaste called peristalsis

I've mentioned before how much I enjoy the Grade Three class this year - their innocence, their delight in learning and just watching them grow, mature and develop keen senses of humour as the year has progressed. Yes, I have my favourites - one is allowed favourites isn't one?

Recently they wrote a test on the digestive system. These were just a couple of their answers:

1. Another name for urine is Wii (In South Africa we say wee. I'm not sure about the term in the rest of the world. But I do feel sorry for that child if (s)he actually has a Nintendo. (S)he'd be thinking every time turning it on, "Hey, this is another name for urine. Eeeeeuwwwwhhhh!)
2. Faeces leave the body by way of the buttocks. (Now, that's just plain funny. Another one said they leave the body by way of the toilet... That shows creativit thinking, when you haven't studied!)
3. Definition of the digestive system: “How the food goes to my bum.” (Well, it may not be technically correct, but it is correct isn't it?)
4. And finally... Peristalsis is: a kind of toothpaste. (Because their teacher used a toothpaste tube to demonstrate how peristalsis works in the intestines. This child could be found shopping with her mother and saying, "Mom, could we buy the 'Peristalsis' brand? My teacher told me about it at school!"

I think in pictures, so this is all I could deal with! Have an excellent day, night, or whatever it is in your part of the world...

Potholed!

The taxi driver changing a tyre mid-route - one of the hazards of driving Tana's roads

I was suffering from quite a high fever on Monday as I rode to the Seventh Day Adventist Clinic across town to see the specialist in tropical diseases, but I still couldn't help but notice how fast Tana is going backwards. And it's all reflected in the state of its roads. Potholes are now as plentiful as roadside vendors in this town - nothing like when I first arrived and saw regular work being done throughout the town. And it's not only evident in the minor roads (many of which are not tarred anyway), but I was astounded to see them in the upmarket suburbs - the suburbs of diplomats, politicians and the rich and famous. 

In self-same suburbs young men stand next to badly filled holes (it seems with garden refuse mixed with mud), hat in hand, asking motorists to reward them for their good deeds. And the guards at the Prime Minister's residence look on.

Marc Ravalomanana, the previous president, was accused of pursuing his own interests while in power; he negotiated with a South Korean company to lease them large tracts of unused land to grow food for export (Malagasies worship their land, which riled many); and he bought a second-hand airplane for his many official government trips abroad (and business trips, as alleged by his overthrower), all of which were cited as reasons for the coup d'etat. I don't doubt that Ravalomanana was not perfect and contributed towards his own downfall by pursuing his business interests while president of the nation, but this was also a leader who expanded the national parks and other protected areas, banned the export of endangered woods, clamped down on corruption in government and poured millions into basic infrastructure, like roads.

One can only pray, for the sake of the nation and its increasingly impoverished people, that the politicians stop their bickering, mudslinging and selfishness and realise why they are there - to serve their people. Until then, Madagascar will keep sliding ever-closer to the bottom of the refuse pit of the world - with all its unique natural resources squandered, having been sold to the highest bidder. 

One of the many types of chameleons one finds in Madagascar. But how long will they and other unique species last,  what with their natural habitats being devastated for the politicians' gain?  Photo: Len de Beer

Could it be?

My previous post about Madagascar having some of the slowest Internet in the world refers. But it's not only slow, it's also completely unreliable. It has been unusable since last week Friday - no reasons given - but now, out of the blue it seems to be back up and running. We will see how long it lasts.

Even if I had had access to the Internet I don't think I would have blogged much as I've been feeling quite horrid health-wise again. It turns out that I have allergens in my system, causing my constant cough, and utter exhaustion. On Friday I came down with a chest infection, and so I've been laid low for several days with furious fevers and way too much sweating for one as sedentary as I...  The only way to get rid of the allergies is to move from the pollution-heavy area I live in, to wear a mask while on my motorbike, and to rest.

I'm currently staying in a guest house on the outskirts of town, enjoying the clean air and relative quiet (apart for the pothole in the main road outside my bedroom. Trucks come careering down the road, hit the hole with an awesome kerash, and I have visions of them careering out of control through my sleeping quarters). And despite being woken up at 5am for unexpected guests, staying here is worth it.

But I'll miss all my neighbours when I move - especially the kids who rush out to say hello when they hear my bike coming down the road...

A few of the girls who live around the corner and the mom of the two she's standing next to. Click on the image to see the amazing array of hand-me-down clothes all the girls are wearing. If you ever feel like complaining about not having enough, just come back to this picture. (Even the doll,which the one is so proudly diplaying, is missing its nose)...

Postscript: While the Internet may be working it took me 20min to download mail of 276Kb. Fairly flying! Not. Just for the fun of it I linked makeover-for-miscellany-monday-shabby.

Let's play

My good friends the Midgleys are busy moving house, which makes for new friends and an all-new environment for play and adventure for their five boys. But the trampoline remains a firm old favourite. Let's play - after all, the weather's perfect and school only starts again next week! (Ah, the joys of homeschooling...)

Round and round the trampoline...

Yeeha! Look at us!

And then Reece, second youngest, was jumping so high he almost jumped clear out of the shot!

 This links to Finer Things Friday which I discovered over at someone who seems to enjoy others laughing with her.

Just limping along

The Beast, promising adventures and open roads ...

A year-and-a-half ago I bought a beautiful, battered Yamaha XT350 from a missionary who was leaving the country. The old nag had done her fair share of hard labour it seems – like an old cart horse just plodding along towards retirement. But I nicknamed her "Killer" and “the Beast", hoping a strong name would spur her on to a few more years of dedicated service.

I bought her bright funky stickers and a lockup box for the back, replaced her brakes and had a new red saddle stitched.

But after a few months in my stable she was in serious need of a service, because of a strange rattle in the engine, and way too much white smoke emanating from the exhaust. The staff at the reputable bike shop downtown was incredibly friendly and very helpful, but this is Madagascar - parts were manufactured and scrounged, and after rebuilding the engine she was put back together with the same seals, the same gaskets, and a whole lot of hope. 

Months later when I found hot oil spraying onto my left foot whenever I went beyond my little neighbourhood, I took her back in for a service. Once again the parts couldn't be sourced, but work was done and I was assured she was right as rain. But, unfortunately, she's not. She is still haemorrhaging oil and almost asphyxiates my neighbours and me with her clouds of white exhaust fumes every morning when I coax her awake.

She’s looking more and more like I feel right now – a bit sorry for herself.  The Beast is limping; Killer still has some bite, but I fear the worst ...

I don't know what I would have done without her and so (sadly), in honour of the old girl, I share this poem (based on one I wrote on Facebook when she was in the shop having her innards worked on last year) - 

Stripped of most stickers ... and limping

Ode to an old friend

She's taken me places, 

has whispered about adventure, 

wind in the hair (!) 

and wide open spaces 

yet to be discovered...

She's stubborn. 

She's irritated me, 

with her old-girl eccentric quirks

but in the end she's served me well – 

with a growl, grunt and roar 

about how we should live our lives – 

Loudly.

But now, 

Staggering,

Suffering from severe smoker's cough ...

And broken apart ... 

By a country that knows how... 

The Beast is on her last legs. 

The Old Girl has eternity in her eyes... 

I'll miss you my old friend, my trusty steed

When you go ... for good

[Insert tears here]

Oily, dirty, leaking, but still going...