"trust-trust the system-system." The repeated words are a joke on the
Malagasy language. When you repeat a word like blue (to blue-blue),
it means bluish. So, to trust-trust the system-system means that you
should sort of trust that thing loosely referred to as a system. In
this blog, I'd like to give you a Top-3 List of times when I've had to
trust the transportation system in particular.
The Top 3 Times I've Had to Trust the Transportation System
1. Canoe Ride First Week at Site
I arrived at site in late September 2010 and had everyone dragging me
off here and there to see this and that. Wanting to be adventurous
and not wanting to hurt everyone's feelings, I let them drag me around
to most things. On installation day, the day when Peace Corps drops
you off by yourself and you wonder if you've ever been more scared in
your life, the head of the village told me that the town was only 5
kilometers off the ocean. One of the other guys then said that he'd
take me to the ocean that weekend. I was really excited. My site was
beautiful and only 5km off the ocean? Sounded pretty good. Anyways,
Saturday rolls around and Auguste comes to my house and asked if I
want to go to ocean. I say, "Of course!" and grab my bike. Or, I
guess what I actually said was, "Yes, good, very good!" because my
language was still pretty raw. We headed off down the main road; it's
an easy ride for about 1km and I'm thinking, "This is easy, I'll go
every week." Auguste then, of course, turns off the main road and
onto a bumpy, hilly, rock-laden dirt path. I had a pretty fun time
navigating the twists and turns, but quickly realized that if he left
me, I'd be lost. Trust the system #1: Your friends will look out for
you. We then bike down this steep hill and reach the water. But,
it's not the ocean. It's the mangroves: muddy, shallow water in
between trees with no ocean in sight. He then proceeds to tell me
that we're going to hop in one of the canoes and paddle out from
there. The only problem is that these aren't your "summer camp" metal
canoes. They are hollowed out trees. I think for a second and then
agree, not wanting to lose face in my first week. I then lock my bike
to a tree and head for the canoe. He stops me and tells me that our
bikes are going with us in the canoe. I look at him perplexed and ask
him if there's really enough space. He reassures me that everything
will be fine and we hop in the canoe, which was about 1ft wide by 8ft
long, with me holding the two bikes across my lap. After two young
kids jump in with us, we then push off in the shallow water.
Immediately, one of the kids grabs a bowl and starts to bail water out
of the canoe that is slowly coming in through the bottom. Now, this
wasn't deep water, maybe 4ft at the deepest, water wasn't entering the
canoe quickly, and I had a life jacket, but when you're in the middle
of nowhere without cell phone service and without a great grasp of the
local language, it can be pretty frightening. Not to mention, I
didn't want to lose my camera, cell phone, or have to carry my bike
out of deep water. Trust the system #2: They know better than to
continue rowing if the boat is going to sink. We continue for a while
until we reach a small fishing town, where we get out only to find
that my legs are asleep from the cramp ride and I can't walk. Trust
the system #3: you are not actually paralyzed from the waist down,
it's only temporary. After feeling comes back to my legs, we walk up
a hill. My expectation was to see the ocean on the other side. Not
the case. We would need to take a larger boat if we wanted to go.
After asking around, we found out that the boats already left for the
day. I'm a little disappointed, but honestly, mostly relieved and
tell Auguste that I can't go back in the canoe again. So, leads me
back to Siranana via a longer trail. Why we couldn't take it
initially, I have no idea. It's now over 9 months since I got to site
and I still haven't been to that beach, but at this point I don't have
much of an interest. There are other beaches that are easier to get
to and don't involve me losing the ability of two of my limbs for a
few minutes.
2. Riding in a Smoking Car
A couple months ago, I was riding back from Ambanja to my site in the
taxi brousse. The ride was going just fine until about 30 kilometers
from my site, smoke started billowing out from under the steering
wheel. The car stops, we all jump out. I move farther away from the
car than anyone else. Smoke=fire and fire+gasoline=bad news, right?
Anyways, after about 5 minutes, the smoke dissipates, the driver
fiddles with something under the hood, and people start piling back
in. Knowing that it was going to get dark soon, I got back in too.
Trust the system #1: They fixed the problem. Trust the system #2: no
one is stupid enough to drive a car if it has ANY chance of catching
on fire again. The rest of the ride was smooth. No smoke. I got to
site OK and still have no idea why the car started smoking.
3. Tomato Boat Ride to Nosy Be
After arriving in Ankify Port, I ask for the next boat going to Nosy
Be. They tell me that the next speedboat won't leave for a while. I
tell them that I don't need a speedboat; I just need to leave on the
next boat. They then usher me over in front of the water where there
is a large ferry anchored next to a small boat full of tomatoes and
other vegetables headed for the island. I pay the boat captain my
fare and sit to wait for them to tell me to get on the ferry. As you
have probably guessed, my boat was not the ferry. It was the small
"tomato boat". I hop on, check to make sure there are life jackets,
and take a seat on top of a crate of tomatoes. Trust the system #1:
This has got to be fine; they are three other passengers. We headed
out into the water very slowly; I expected the pace to pick up (since
I was told the ride was under an hour), but it never did. Then, once
we got offshore a little ways, two of the boatmen lifted up a door in
the floor of the boat and started bailing water. Trust the system #2:
If they are not panicking and not turning around, it's probably OK.
Right? Anyways, they bailed water by the bucket for two and a half
hours straight. The entire time, I just put my head down, read my
book, tried to relax, and attempted not to smell the tomatoes rotting.
Turns out that the whole bailing water thing is not a big deal, but
it certainly wasn't reassuring at the time. On the way back to the
mainland, our boat was bailing water too, except they had a hand-pump
to do it. I guess you need some water below deck to maintain a low
center of gravity. And now, you know.
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