Goodbye (Finally)

seated in a horrid wheelchair, begging for a living,
with the odds against her, yet full of life and joy
... and a great sense of humour.

A place called home

Sitting in the Jo’burg to Tana airplane I try to process the loss of one of my dearest and Maddest friends, and his request of a final blog post … How can I write a final Madder-in-Mada post, and “lose” a friend without oozing sentimental junk?! This post is doomed from the start!

You have read some of my stories, seen some of the kids in my life, and posted sweet and hilarious comments via Rob’s blog – thanks. So, for the final scribble, a bit more about my home …

Sitting in the plane I find myself recognising the mud-brown rivers and the red contours of the land, and a passage from The Poisonwood Bible comes to mind: Africa is a disease. Once it enters your bloodstream you will never be free from it. It lives and breathes in you, has its hold on you, and you will be both one with it and apart from it and unable to completely separate yourself from it. This is Madagascar to me! 

I arrive home to the potholed streets and cacophony of karaoke, trucks and chatter filling the polluted air; to white puffy clouds that colour a blue sky – backdrop to the city of a thousand church steeples. I am greeted with foreign phrases in a musically-pitched language, and the recipient of cheerful grins from kids wearing threadbare hand-me-downs and mud marks on their faces. I avoid the roadside food stalls, following advice from Rob and the Midgleys in trying to avoid yet another tropical disease, but order pizza-of-a-different-kind from the only reliable fast-food delivery company. 

Then I sit back and sigh – the pleasant type of sigh that goes right into your gut and fills your heart with a fuzzy feeling of well-being. Who would have thought that this land would become home – a place with its own bitter-sweet joy … and its own hold on my heart? Yet, it is exactly that … a place that I wish I could share with the world.

So long then, dear Madder in Mada. And thank you for sharing my home with everyone who took the time to read about it.

The city with more church steeples than liquor stores ...

Two children and a mielie (sitting in a narrow alley-way between two houses)

Bad hairday

Now that's scary: Fresh Taste. Trendy Girls

__________________________ 

Don't forget, in future I will be blogging from Rambling with a Cantankerous Old Mule. Come on over, sign up, leave comments... I would love to hear from you!

Goodbye (part 2)

Esther, from laughwithusblog

I can't believe that I only really got blogging in earnest in September last year - it seems like a lifetime. Not only has it helped me to improve my photography, but I also found myself looking for the humour in situations more than I used to. Clearly the world is a serious-enough place to still blog about weighty issues, and (noticeably) my most-read posts were the light-hearted, humorous ones. 

Somewhere along the way I came across Esther, a fellow blogger at laughwithusblog. I stumbled across her site and ended up visiting most days to chuckle and live vicariously through her accounts of her numerous blunders in etiquette and family goings-on; she wandered across to mine and has become a faithful commenter and encourager.

Here she shares once again but for a change not in the comments section:

"I'm not sure how I happened on Madderinmada, but it has been a favorite.  The first thing that got me hooked was the humor.  What can I say?  I love to laugh!  I have enjoyed the funny quotes from the Midgley family of boys as well as the hilarity that came from Robin's students at times.  His friend and guest-poster Anri also kept me in stitches with her wild stories.

I also loved the real, true-to-life posts about Madagascar, the joys and hardships all viewed though a soul wanting to please God with all of his heart.  I have enjoyed the beautiful photos that capture so much in both people and country.  It appears that not only Mada will miss Robin, but all of his faithful readers around the world too. 

Get well, but please do keep writing!

A mad house in Texas"

_______________________________ 

Be sure to check back tomorrow for the last of the guest posts from Anri-Louise ...

Goodbye (Part 1)

Reece Midgley shortly after I arrived in Madagascar in 2009

There's a time for beginnings and there is a time for endings. 

I started this blog "Madder in Mada" back in 2009 when I moved to Madagascar to be with my friends the Midgleys, to help out in a local church and to teach at Vision Valley School in Tana. My main reason for the blog was to keep my friends and family updated with happenings, and to share some photos from the world around me.

I wasn't a very proficient blogger to start off with - I wasn't sure if I had much anyone would want to read and I never had much self belief in my photography. But then in the middle of 2010 I tackled it with gusto, got a few loyal followers and no-one has been able to shut me up since.

But now it's time to end it all (the blog, that is). I returned to South Africa around three weeks ago to see doctors after I fell ill in January this year, struggling to breathe, and just didn't recover. It turns out that all of the problems with my lungs were caused by allergies - allergies to mould, spores, mites, grasses, grains, dairy - even to coffee, my favourite drink. My regular doctor (the card that he is) joked that I'm allergic to life but should have at least a month to live.

All three doctors I have seen have been in agreement that I cannot return to Madagascar until I am completely healed, and have been free of symptoms for several months. It seems as if the allergies can clear up, the asthmatic symptoms can disappear, and I can return to breathing again normally (which is a good thing, all in all) but that if I return to Madagascar now I risk damaging my lungs permanently.

And so I have decided to stay in South Africa for the foreseeable future. Madder in Mada is, therefore, being put on the shelf (for now, anyway). But do not despair, do not fret, I'll keep blogging at a new site (Justin Midgley back in Madagascar suggested "Sadder in SA" but I've gone with): 

Rambling with a cantankerous old mule

Come on over. "Follow me" and I'll try to have more pictures, more funny stories and more about this "sad state of affairs" I find myself in back in South Africa... 

Tomorrow I'll finish off with part two of the farewell.

Zoë Life

The lively one

By now many of my regular readers will be well-acquainted with the Midgley family in Madagascar, and their kids in particular. The eldest, and most outspoken of them is Andrew, who was born way back (for him anyway) in 1999. In the same year some mutual friends, the Deans, who now reside in a tiny backwoods, backward place called Springs, in South Africa, had a little girl by the name of Zoë, which apparently means "Life" in Greek... She suffers from verbal diarrhoea (she even talks in her sleep) but has nevertheless brought much vitality into everyone's lives that she has touched. 

She's always been "different" to the norm, but then, the whole family is. Here are some of the things that make her so bizarre, so not-so-sane-in-Springs...

She says she's "biwingual" - she speaks English and Afrikaans.  A few weeks ago she bought a packet of fizz-pops candy with two flavours in one packet. "Hey, it's a biwingual packet of candy!" she said. She calls feathers "bird leaves"; only found out last year that she lives in South Africa, and not the USA; thinks that all meat is chicken and calls her fringe (bangs) her sideburns.

But the most delightful thing about Zoë is that for years she has told me that if I never manage to find a wife that she'll marry me one day "if she has to". Her older sister, the one with a black cat attached to her shoulder like a character from "the Addams Family", told me today that it is looking increasingly probable, despite their every attempt to "set me up".

Exhausted!

There's nothing more exhausting, it seems, than a good trampoline jumping session. I admit, I haven't attempted it recently as I've been holed up at home still struggling with my breathing (apparently this is a slow healing process in the natural) but this morning I went out for a coffee with two delightful young ladies, and then this afternoon spent a very relaxed time having a braai (barbecue) with friends. It was one of those braais where the meat was eaten straight off the grill  - the most tasty, finger-licking-good way in my opinion. And for the kids there was lots of playing, until a few of them simply fell down in a happy heap.

Grade 2s

I've found that classes (the children in them, that is) often take on the personality of their teachers. The Grade 2s at Vision Valley School (VVS) in Antananarivo, Madagascar are the most well-behaved, hardworking, friendly and delightful children, all, I believe, because of their amazing teacher Kay... 

It's all in the finger

Mr Robin in typical pose

The finger. To describe. To explain. To make a particularly pertinent point. To stick up a sleeping student's nose. The finger is the thing that makes me the teacher I am. If I was to sit still behind my desk and quietly tell my students to read chapter whatsit or learn 20 vocabulary words quietly by themselves then I would go mad, and they would all become a noisy, unruly bunch or find themselves in a permanent stupor. 

I'm not a particularly good teacher, but I am an energetic one. I try to find things that will interest and inspire and excite the students and I make liberal use of the finger. 

But now that's all over. It looks like health issues will be keeping me in South Africa and I have had to resign from my teaching job in Madagascar. What does the future hold? Who knows? 

Will it be an exciting ride? I'm sure... 

And so, all my wonderful students, buckle down and make the most of the little bit of schooling left in this term. Run with perseverance towards the final exams. Grab your futures in your own two hands and work. Hard. And if you were to falter, if you were to stumble, look up and remember "the finger" and the face and voice behind it spurring you on.

Kids on Sunday revisited

Three weeks ago I did a very candid post "Kids on Sunday" while in Madagascar... Not as candid, but here are some of my favourite kids from our church in Pretoria. Admittedly, they aren't great photos, but they are the cutest children...

She shows her love for me by kicking me in the knee or standing on my foot. But an angel (sometimes).

She gives the biggest hugs; unlimited numbers of them. The sweetest thing.

I've clearly been away from Pretoria for too long because this is how I was greeted by the princess of the woods... And when I said hello to her by name she asked, "How do you know me?" Well, at least she eventually found her smile.

The confines of clothing are just too much for "W" to handle. A weekly occurrence!

Some of the children with half an Easter Bunny...

And lastly, something that just couldn't wait - time to water a tree before heading home...

A tall tale

The dearest 4-year-old, Evan, had a few more funny things to say again recently. Oh, how I miss that boy who's back in Madagascar... 

So, Andy, his eldest brother was speaking about the fact that he had had chicken pox. "So have I," replied Evan. 

"No, Evan, you haven't," replied Andy.

"Yes I have," retorted the youngest indignantly. Of course I've tasted chicken pox before." 

The Midgley's new home has a little pond outside. Evan, playing fishing had this to say: "I've caught a hummingbck whale!"

More about Evan here.

Easter Shopping Madness

Shelves and shelves of the evil stuff

What is it with people and needing to buy things, stuff, clutter?

I had to go to a major retailer today - a store similar to Walmart in the States, I imagine. I wouldn't choose to go on any day, let alone a holiday weekend, but it was the only time I could. Oh, the crush of people, the frenzy of buying, the naughty children careering around on bicycles, scooters and little kid-sized trucks. I stood there pondering about worse things I could be doing and couldn't think of any. Doing paperwork in Madagascar, traipsing through the Siberian Tundra or cleaning out a used longdrop would have been less torturous (and tortuous, as it turns out).

In short, it was chaos. And the things people were walking out of the shop with was just mind-blowing. Where does all the money come from? How do people afford all the stuff - the new flat-screen televisions, bigger fridges, carts piled high with food and crisps and candy... I've lived in Madagascar for two years - perhaps I'm just over-reacting when comparing this to the abject poverty over on the island. Perhaps this is normal.

But the worst came at check-out when I had to walk past the shelves of chocolate screaming out to be bought. Talk about real torture!

The Grade 5s

I'm highlighting some of the junior grades at Vision Valley School in Tana this week... They are all currently on Easter break, but I know they get a kick out of seeing their pics on the Internet.

Here we have a few of the Grade 5s...

H

Group work

S

Girls

Boys

Cantankerous old mule

Joy and laughter live in this home. As does my friend Wendy.

I love being back in South Africa - with people who understand me and laugh at the same jokes, with food that I understand and enjoy, and with vehicles driving on the left side of the road (which is the right side) and not the right side of the road (which is the wrong side).

Last night I went to visit Wendy, one of my oldest friends. Okay, perhaps that's the incorrect use of the word and she would be offended to hear me calling her that... not oldest, "most longstanding". The friends I saw for lunch on Sunday say that Wendy and I have one of the most bizarre relationships they've ever seen, but she's nice to me, feeds me, and seems to enjoy my company, so I'm stubbornly holding on to her...

(It took her dad around 10 years to build the quaint little abode, seen in these photos, for his daughter but Wendy has since transformed it into a simple place of creative flair).

And so, there I sat relaxing after a phenomenal supper of soup and fresh bread (with a glass of red wine in hand) on an evening that was more wintry than it should be at this time of year, when a fellow friend and teacher (we'll call Shirley "Anonymous" to protect her identity) threw a vicious barb in my direction - she called me cantankerous!

And there it was, out there in the open, like a prickly pimple in the middle of one's nose - absolutely impossible to ignore or shake.  One of the other guests reached for her phone to look up what the word meant, and then everyone proceeded to cackle with glee at the description - "disagreeable to deal with; contentious; peevish: as in, 'a cantankerous, argumentative man'."

Oh how they all laughed. Oh, how they all nodded liberally in agreement!  

But at least "Anonymous" found such a descriptive word to differentiate me from others. Imagine if I was just "ornery", or even worse, "nice"?

"Anonymous" with Wendy under the sign that typifies the home - Live Well. Laugh Often. Love Much

A window-sill filled with little knick knacks gathered from around the world

Above the fireplace...

There's even a little piece of Madagascar in one of the corners.

Framing love

The wrong date but never out of date

 

Z

"Z" is one of the little Grade Ones at the school I've been teaching at in Madagascar. She's the cutest knock-kneed gangly child; shy with an impish smile. Throughout summer she would come to school in the most out of place clodhopper-like boots. At first she was incredibly wary at the site of a camera, but in time she warmed up to it and developed into one of my most photogenic subjects.

I'm not the most patient of people (I am a bachelor; I'm not sure if that has something to do with it) and kids sometimes just drive me mad. But the last two years at Vision Valley have been an absolutely blessing. I wouldn't have changed a thing...

Z after lunch

Z and those boots

Z the pseudo-tennis star

Z on the climbing frame

The mall of choice

Climbing the hilarious cow sculpture.

Madagascar doesn't have malls. It has one coffee shop and no movie theatres. The DVDs that one rents are all pirated. Clothing stores and sport shops exist, but few people buy from them. Illegal street markets thrive. 

Good restaurants are few and far between. More common are street vendors, preparing kebabs on rinky dink barbecues or batter-smothered fried eats in oil long past its expiry date.

But I'm in South Africa and making good use of the many malls. My favourite, and closest to my dad's home, is Irene Village Mall - open-plan, inviting and more creative (with its cow theme) than most of the other generic shopping centres around here. Kids can be found playing in the fountains, or relaxing on the udder of the upturned-cow sculpture in its central square.

It's a fun place. Laughter can be heard. And there's place to sit and just enjoy the setting of the day to the calming sound of flowing water.

Children having fun in the fountains while their parents relax with a cappuccino in one of the restaurants lining the square.

Just relaxing at the end of the day

At the Movies. With comfortable seats. And high-quality screens and sound ... Amazing what brings enjoyment when it's not the norm.

Relaxing on the udder. Bizarre, but hey, why not?

Boring, boring, boring...

I'm sorry to say that life here in South Africa just isn't as exciting or as crazy as back in Madagascar. I know one has to make one's own adventure and excitement, but I just cannot seem to stop sleeping because of my not-entirely-functioning lungs and the meds I'm on. And the routine of normal life goes on for most of my friends, so I can't really hang out with them all of the time either.

Yesterday I did visit some friends who go way back to a time when they didn't have children and I was still young and stupid. We ate well, had a few laughs, and I took some pics of their non-photogenic teenage daughter (that's what she called herself) and their dog.

Pray that my world becomes a bit more interesting, for your own sakes, or this blog might become as boring as many of the others out there!

Playing coy

Well, that's kind of a smile...

The dog. I never did get its name, and it didn't complain about me taking photos.

Without

Without country, without home, without car, without job and without good health …

A wanderer for God - one step at a time.

But Jesus.

More Midgleys by the minute

I'm sitting in Pretoria, South Africa at a coffee shop with a cappuccino in front of me blogging - about Tana, and about the Midgley boys in particular. My good friends Kim and Sue and their five boys recently moved to a new home, mostly so that their boys, who are homeschooled, would have more friends to play with. 

And now their home is like a train station, with the "Dutch boys", who live five houses down from them coming in and going out as if they're part of family. At any given time one can find 3 Midgley boys and two Dutch kids at the Midgley home, with the remaining Dutch boy and two youngest Midgleys at the Dutch family's home. (And, in fact, in any combination one can think of...)

I was amused to hear Sue asking her 4-year-old at supper recently if he had eaten during the day... She hadn't seen him for the whole afternoon, and just assumed that he would have snacked at his friends' house... And the two families have a good understanding that when it's time for the children to go home then a simple command will restore the balance.

A lounge filled with boys. One Midgley, one de Waal, one Midgley, one de Waal... Best of friends.

The three eldest Midgley boys. No, hold on, that's two Midgleys on the left and a de Waal on the right.

The eldest de Waal boy in the Midgley lounge with some funky glasses left over from the World Cup in South Africa