Wordless Wednesday: Grade 3s

"There are some things children cannot know,
because once they learn them they are no longer children." Ashleigh Briliant

School by any other name

Our second term at Vision Valley School ended last Thursday, and the powers that be decided, in all their wisdom, to give us a two-day break to recover from the previous term and prepare for the new one. I, in all my wisdom, ended up spending the second of those two days at the Midgley home where the boys were busy with their homeschooling. Take a break from school to hang out at a different school ... Very clever!

But it was considerably less stressful than my typical school day. Evan and I drank tea and ate rusks, did some informal mathematics on the couch, and before we knew it the other boys had finished their schoolwork, and we could all get down to some serious play...

Andy learning about carrots. Hold on, that's the world made to look like orange veggies.

Justin - head down and learn as much as possible so I can get outta here!

All work and no play makes Jem a dull boy

Grade 1 is SO much fun! Reece get writing

And lets not forget Evan... He learns through osmosis, absorbing from his bright brothers...

Caught in a summer's moment

It's been hot and muggy in Tana - real beach weather - for the last few weeks. I went for a ride on the old girl on Monday and came home with burnt forearms and singed knees. But as there is no beach within 200km, it's had me dreaming of my time in South Africa over Christmas (where it also rained too much, unfortunately).

But we seized the moment whenever the sun did shine, and when it didn't we built puzzles, drove to town for coffee and explored the quaint little villages in the area.

I love the beach. On days like this, it's worth dreaming about... Here are some special moments from the short time with friends and family.

(I've linked this post to the L.E.N.S. Photo challenge: This moment)

Puzzle-building niece. And in just a moment it was done!

A moment with no rain... The gulls and fishermen taking advantage.

Beach cricket with no rain. And in a moment. The Ball. Was gone

A little Jack Russell taking advantage of a beautiful evening - caught in the moment.

Watermelon - a perfect summer snack. And gone in the blink of an eye.

Taste-test dummies

No, no, I'm not calling the grade threes "dummies", although I also am not known for my politically correct terms... I love this picture, taken by Anri Louise of her Grade 3 boys who were learning about taste. It must be wonderful to have a teacher who does such cool things with one!

Don't you just love their individual expressions?

"If you can't convince them, confuse them!"  Harry S Truman

Evan says

Evan's take on Moses' famous statement to Pharaoh in the Old Testament: "LET MY PEOPLE GLOW." Sounds like a funky revivalist meeting in Chernobyl.

Then from the boys' bedroom sometime this week: 

“Ow! Evan! Watch. Where. You. Stand.!”

 “Ow Jem! Watch. Where. You. Hit!”

And finally, any regular reader knows Evan has been saying for a while now that he is going to be a pineapple when he grows up: He walked into his parents' room a few mornings ago and matter-of-factly announced that he actually wouldn't be a pineapple when he gets older. His mom thought it was probably because he had finally realised that little boys just become men. 

But no. His first reason? "Because there isn't enough orange paint to make me the right colour." 

The second reason? "Because I'm not juicy enough on the inside."

Slowly does it...

One of my major bug-bears must be the speed of the Internet in Madagascar. I recently came across a few bloggers complaining about how slow the Internet was in their respective countries but I'm sure nothing can top ours, or should that be, "beat ours into last place."

Officially Madagascar has the 19th slowest download speed, and 24th slowest upload speed in the world on speedtest.net, but I beg to differ. I've tested it at different times of the day and week over the last two months, and consistently get results putting us right at the bottom of the list, apart maybe for Lebanon.

Just to put this into perspective: South Korea gets download speeds of of 39.6Mb/s, Canada and the US are around 10Mb/s on average, and a wee island group called the Alands, sandwiched between Sweden and Finland, achieves speeds of 26Mb/s. All of this is compared to my trundling 0.55Mb/s. Even the official rate of 0.99Mb/s cannot exactly be described as brisk.

The ISPs explain it away as a result of "perturbations" caused by the recent Cyclone Bengiza that graced our shores. I remain perturbed by its ponderous, lackadaisical, sluggish, slothful pace - especially frustrating for a blogger who loves to upload photographs and someone doing a website-building project with one of his classes...

Sluggish Internet at its worst... (Real speeds in boxes to right of "official" speeds)

500-word Wednesday

Note: Not for sensitive readers

Mmmmm, yum!

We in the West have become so sophisticated, with the food we eat, the gifts we give, the cars we drive and the toys we play with. How often haven’t you watched children, after presents have been opened, having more fun with the packaging than with the gift itself; or toddlers having a whale of a time playing with whatever they can find in the kitchen cupboard? (Like Tupperware and ladles and plastic whatsits)...

When it comes to food, don’t get me wrong, sometimes I long to be able to pop out for a quick meal from Tim Hortons or to stand in line at Krispy Kreme for hot, fresh, straight-off-the-conveyor belt doughnuts. But this here place is like living on another planet. Sure, we have several pizza places (most of which use vile French-tasting smell-like-old-socks cheese) and we have one proper coffee shop and one fast food place (called something bizarre, like Happy Feet) on the other side of town. I was invited to join friends there for supper last week, but still don’t feel 100%, and it was raining, so I reneged. When it takes an hour and a half to get there and back through the choke of Tana’s traffic it just doesn’t seem much like “Fast Food”. I could pop across the road for some desiccated fish, a string of grasshoppers, or something drowned in oily batter, I guess, but my stomach gags at the thought.

Children here very often have to look after their
younger siblings as parents go out to work.

Photo: Len de Beer

But I digress. Most families where I live don’t have two Ariary to rub together, and so the children play with what they have. That’s usually broken hand-me-downs, or making do with a huge dose of imagination, a holey metal mug and a dried-out branch. I have a photograph of Evan asleep clutching an old garage door remote, pretending it was for the TV. I have another of a Malagasy child asleep in the same pose as Evan, but clutching a stone. I have no idea what he imagined it to be.  

Some friends who just returned from the countryside were telling me how the kids seek out birds’ nests, catch the little critters – some of which are barely able to fly – and then tie pieces of string to their (the birds’) legs. This turns them into something like feathered kites or helium balloons bobbing in the morning sky and the children take bets about whose bird will stay up longest. They have great fun, until the playthings crash to the ground too exhausted to continue. Cruel? Maybe, but how would they know any better. These children learn to fish, kill and clean a chicken, work the rice paddies and carry water on their heads before they are six. Many don’t ever make it to school.

My friends also saw one little girl catch a grasshopper, pull its legs off, bite its wings off and then give it to her littler brother to play with. What? Yep... Life sure is different out here in our wild wild west...

A simple game requiring skill, finesse and speed - played anywhere, with whatever stones one can find.

Evan clutching his remote and the little Malagasy child with his stone.

Because Mondays aren't meant to be blue ...

... I've filled this post with bright, life-filled pics from my town, my life...
I hope they bring a bit of extra colour to your day.

The only way to start a day - the little cup that packs a punch: espresso Tana-style

One of my little neighbours in Talatamaty, Tana. Always ready with a smile

A house painted with the "La vache quit rit" cheese logo. Their lives are never blue!

Evan, living life large and in full colour!

Just two little feet on the road...

One of my favourite little Canadians, all of whom brought colour into my life ...

HEED!
"Look at the size of that boy's heed.
I'm not kidding, it's like an orange on a toothpick.
Well, that's a huge noggin. That's a virtual planetoid.
It's gargantuan!"
(From "So I married an axe murderer")

And then I realised that I hadn't posted this on a Monday, but rather on Tuesday because we had a long weekend, and I got my days all mxed up! Hold on. Where are we now?

Cookie Shop Squared

I heard the truly scrumptious news today that Tana's one-and-only proper coffee shop (that I know of, anyway) will be opening a new branch across the road from the US Embassy in Andranomena in June or July. 

The schlep across town just isn't worth it currently, but the fact that it will be within walking distance of school should mean that I will be frequenting it as often as my budget and girth allow. Bring it on, Cookie Shop!

100 up

Downtown Tana at night

I originally started blogging back in April 2009, just after moving to Madagascar from South Africa. I started after my sister suggested that more than just those on my e-mail contact list might be interested in the madness that was Madagascar.

The country had just been through a coup d'etat, and life here was unlike anything most of my friends and family had ever experienced. But, to be honest, I was a lazy blogger and in my first 16 months I blogged all of five times!

I started again in earnest in September last year, mostly because I was enjoying taking photos, and pasting them into e-mails just didn't do them justice. I was also extricating myself from Facebook, and blogging was a more honest reflection of my thoughts and experiences than throwaway one-liners on a social network. At first I blogged once a week, then it moved to twice a week, and now I try to write most days. Today is my one-hundredth post, which is quite mind-blowing to me, considering its snail-paced beginnings.

99% of the photos that appear on the blog, I have taken. As long as I remain inspired and able to maintain a steady enough hand for photography I will keep posting them - chronicling the life and times of a vazaha and his friends in Madagascar. I do have to thank Stefan at Nikon in South Africa for all of his support, and Kim, who lives down the road, for pointing out whenever my horizons are askew.

I have a few, regular, faithful subscribers - some of whom I count as friends even though I have never met them. Even my students read it occasionally! I've written poetry, every so often I've ranted about something serious and important to me, but I've noticed that my most-read posts are my humorous ones, as well as the ones filled with photographs - people clearly need more laughs in their lives, and don't have time to read. I do intend to keep writing about daily life here as it happens, about the Midgleys, about school, about my neighbours and about me (where appropriate). Despite being a very verbose person, I will try to keep all my posts below 500 words each.

I have also been amazed at the fact that the blog has been read in over 40 countries - far-flung places like Afghanistan, Cyprus, Brazil, Albania, Bangladesh, Kenya, Qatar, Sweden, Lithuania, Pakistan, Macedonia, Saudi Arabia, Poland, Mauritius, Senegal and Costa Rica.

This is number 100. I pray that there will be many more and that I don't run out of interesting, quirky, mad inspiration any time soon...

I leave you with a few of my favourite photos from the last year and a bit. If you'd like to see more feel free to go to my flickr account.

I love the balance of this one, but also its subjects - the Canadian girls, Reece and Evan.
And if you're reading this girls, I miss you!

Iris, a little girl we met on holiday in January 2010. She was the cutest thing.

A little shop on the side of a muddy side-road. I love the colours!

Two little children playing with an old yogurt bottle. Pure joy!

Transport on the mainland. A typical, typical scene

Bologna Boy

Bologna Boy

Sitting at the dinner table two nights ago, four-year-old Evan looked across at his mother and asked, "Mommy, when we move to our new house next month, please can I change my name?"

"Sure," she said, "What do you want to be called?"

"Bologna!"

Like I've said before, I don't know where he comes from!

And then yesterday he called me over to ask if I would take a photo of him as a pineapple. The picture below is exactly that - Evan the Pineapple. Apparently a pineapple sticks its tongue out - probably to scare people into not cutting it up and eating it ...

Pineapple boy with attitude

The brothers pretending to be Evan, pretending to be a pineapple: Oldest Pineapple, Duck Pineapple, Pineapple-gone-bad, Model Pineapple and Sleepy Pineapple

Wordless Friday (why be a conformist)

Because it's a long weekend, my brain has temporarily shut down and I don't feel like writing, so here are some photos from the last three days: (Click on pictures for bigger versions)

One of my little neighbours showing who's boss

A Grade 2 takes exception to my camera in his face

My favourite -lyn sister (princess of the playground)

A typical Tana landscape complete with people fishing for their supper

2nd-eldest Midgley playing a computer game, with the eldest giving advice

"Ah, dad, who let the vazaha in again?"

Last Christmas I gave you my heart ...

Many times I have been asked by young and old why I, at age 41, am not married. Part of the problem I have already explained in this blog post about my social failings, but one of the other reasons I suspect (and which has been confirmed by my friends, who have mocked me repeatedly and viciously about it) is my infamous “Music Mix”.

I always believed that girls wanted romance and to be pursued, and what better way to show one’s feelings than a carefully thought-out “mixed tape” or “Mixed CD”, as it has become. It’s sweet, it’s sentimental, it’s personal, and it’s a gift that “keeps on a-givin”. And because words don’t come easy to me, what better way to say “I love you.”

In the early years there was huge effort involved working with cassettes. Ladies want quality time, and I have spent much of that on my own compiling the perfect mix, which, when I was young and stupid was anything but perfect. My music of choice probably drove the lasses into a sickening spiral of depression, but I have since changed what I listen to and learnt a thing or two – now throwing in a good blend of soppy and sentimental, humorous, classical and jazz.

Unfortunately I don’t really listen to lyrics, and only know the first line of most songs – and so I go for the “feel” of the music, something Esther (a fellow blogger) has pointed out may not help with the opposite sex... Also, unfortunately, most people take a while to understand my sense of humour. As the special mix is created at the embryonic stage of a relationship, the young lady is usually still trying to figure out what I’m on about on a normal day, which leaves her scratching her head at the aptness of Eggplant by Michael Franks, Be Mine by The Grits, or Grow old together by Adam Sandler (from the movie The Wedding Singer). Or what on earth Paolo Conte and Charles Aznavour are crooning in their strange accents...

The last mixed CD I made had two very distinct responses from the lady – the immediate one being, “Oh, that’s so sweet, I feel so special,” quickly followed by the furious clatter of footsteps receding into the distance as she realised that this meant the relationship had gone to a terrifying level involving vertigo and nausea.

But, realistically, I’m too old to do love mixes any longer. It’s time to move on to something much more satisfying – the “break-up mix.” I could include songs as a form of torture, like that 80’s horror that just goes round and round and round one’s head, I should have known better by Jim Diamond; one of my all-time favourites Somebody Kill Me (also from The Wedding Singer); and just to rub it in, the Gloria Gaynor classic I will survive ...

I don’t think I’ll be needing it any time soon, so any suggestions are welcome!

________________
P.S. No former girlfriends were harmed in the writing of this blog.

Upside down and backwards

Yesterday, sometime midmorning, before being flung from a desk in the Grade 5 class, Anri-Louise, the Grade 3 teacher, discovered that her beautiful purple top was inside out. She went to the bathroom to change but got distracted and forgot. 

And when she arrived in class one of her girls pointed it out: "Miss Anri-Louise, your shirt is upside down!" (Yes, this is her second language).

"Well, sweetie, it's actually not upside down, it's inside out, and that's because we're having INSIDE OUT DAY," Anri quickly recovered. And so she sent the whole class to the bathroom to put their shirts on inside out, and turned it into a game of observation - the first three staff members or students to notice that the whole Grade three class was "inside out" would each win a prize.

Amazingly quick thinking on one's feet, I say. And the whole class had a whole lot of fun!

So I cried over some cucumber

Anri, after being flung to the floor by a desk

Anri-Louise once again adds to the humour and cringe-worthiness of my blog...

There are bad weeks; there are positively horrid weeks; and then there are weeks like I’ve just endured. (This is more or less where I picture you, the reader, nodding with understanding and a sympathetic grin.) Rob has introduced me to you as the KLUTZ, but the past few weeks supersede all.

It all started with a drive to the doctor for a painful “belly”, as my school kids would call it, only to return with four separate, totally unrelated diagnoses – all needing treatment. The first set of antibiotics added an allergic reaction to the list and so it was back to the doctor again, an excursion taking a minimum of three hours through the hustle, bustle and fumes of Tana. The second set of treatment was more readily accepted by my body, but did less than nothing to the germs, and so I returned once again for visit number three. (Kim has suggested I return to South Africa for general maintenance – like a used car...)

I am okay, I tell myself, lying in the dark – the electric cables to my house having been stolen, and the month’s meat supply in a bloody mess in the bin. It is not so bad that the guard filled my new containers set aside for bed linen with soil for his gardening project. Serving burnt rice to my Church homegroup, I can also deal with. I am okay. I AM okay. I am OKAY.

But as we all know, when it rains it pours, and right now it seems to be raining “cows and pigs” (one of my little girls' cute quotes). I survived the school bathrooms when antibiotic number four again had my system rebelling. I laughed at the unbelief on Rob’s face when I toothpicked my filling out in the lunch room. I watched in a mirror as the dentist took 90 minutes to replace the filling using makeshift tools but saved me from a threatening abscess on the other side of my jaw. I apologised for breaking Kim’s louver window while trying to close it and for getting angry with Rob for absolutely no reason (that he could see). I lived through my cellphone staying behind in a taxi, never to be seen or heard from again. And then this morning I sat on the only broken desk in the entire grade 5 class and was catapulted to the floor in a heap.

But in the end it was a simple piece of cucumber that broke the camel’s back... I was eating salad at Sue’s; the cucumber fell to the floor (in slow motion), setting off a chain reaction only women would understand. Both men immediately fled the scene.

After a few bucketloads of tears I am telling myself once again that I am okay – mostly because of a tattooed smoker at the Three Horses Beer (THB) bar. Heading home from church he stopped me to take a picture of him with his friends... and then paid me for the job – all of $0.50! I laughed all the way home. I, a vazaha (foreigner), have just been paid 1000 Ariary to take a photo at a bar. Sure. God is still in control. And He will provide. Finances. Health. Some good luck. And laughter!

Dubley-do-right turns 10

The battle rages in a perfect spot for an ambush

Justin Dubs Skinnymalinks Midgley will be turning 10 tomorrow, but yesterday he celebrated with a “water fight party”. Seven boys and one boisterous girl joined him and his brothers and they played non-stop and noisily for two hours. His mother exceeded her cake-creating reputation with a custom “Clone Wars” R2D2. 

And then in the afternoon we headed off to an ear numbing, heart-stopping, stomach churning, yet Spirit-filled worship time at church. 

Along with cake design, the children also get to choose what they want for supper on their birthdays, which (yesterday) was Mommy’s special all-in farmer-style breakfast. Yes, breakfast for supper. And it was probably the best supper-breakfast I’ve ever tasted!

Okay, whose birthday is next?

(Click on pictures for bigger, better versions)

The famous cake

The waterfight begins. And no, none of this was choreographed...

Rumours and rain

That sounds like a song title ... but its not. The last week has seen a whole bucketload of rain (or maybe a little bit more) dumped on us by Cyclone Bingiza. This was of course accompanied by high winds, and on many an evening I sat at home listening to the torrent and my neighbours' roof sheets banging, creaking and threatening to fly off into the night.

I joked on arriving at school this week that we could advertise canoeing as an extra-mural activity when I saw the state of our soccer "field". And when the rain arrives while we are teaching I am left looking like a goldfish - opening and closing my mouth, my words drowned out by the thunderous storm. 

I've also been quite a source of hilarity for them in my rain gear. Honestly, I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's because they've never seen me in long pants before? Perhaps its because I bought the stuff when I weighed 15kgs less than I do now.

Last night I headed home after a night out with friends across town, and was hit by the tail end of the cyclone. Before I knew it, the wind and rain had lashed and whipped and soaked me to the bone - right through my rain gear. Methinks its time to invest in a new rain suit. Or perhaps it's just a good idea not to be on the roads in the middle of a tropical storm.

It was rumoured that Madagascar's deposed president Marc Ravalomanana would be returning home today, and so hordes of people flocked to the airport to see him in along with six truckloads of riot police. Our electricity was off for many hours and the Internet didn't work (quite coincidentally, I'm sure.) But it all turned into a damp squib as the government prevented him from even boarding the plane in South Africa. It'll be interesting to see what comes of this politically...

Apart from that we celebrated a Midgley boy's birthday, went to a worship event at church and ate breakfast for supper. But more on that tomorrow when I've got a bit more energy...