It’s official—I spent the entire 25th
year of my life in Madagascar. Last
month I celebrated another birthday here.
I’m not going to lie, my birthdays have not been a highlight of my time
in Peace Corps for a number of reasons.
The Malagasy don’t really celebrate their birthdays, so this is the
second year I’ve spent with my birthday passing like any other day in
Ambohimanarina.
This year my birthday fell just after a 3
week absence from my village and the day before a big party for World
Environment Day, so leaving the village just wasn’t realistic. I spent the morning cleaning up my house and
yard. Everyone else was doing the
same—they even lined the streets with flowers for the holiday—so I don’t want
to look like the chump with no village pride.
By the afternoon I had pretty much forgotten that it was a special day.
Every holiday means a “soma” from the
women’s groups, and my adopted group takes this incredibly seriously. Personally the dances amuse me because they
remind me of something you’d perform at your middle school talent show. But the women take it as seriously as the
middle schooler would—people will be talking about your soma for days to come
and why risk your reputation with a half-assed soma? So I try to take it
somewhat seriously too. On the night of
my birthday we had our final practice for the soma. My neighbor passed by, saying “I am going, my
daughter.” I took this for what it
really meant—come on, you need to learn the soma too—and followed her down the
road.
The party, and therefore the soma, was for
World Environment Day. So, our soma was
a song celebrating Madagascar’s green environment, its various plants, and
Marojejy National Park. I have to give
the women credit, they are very creative with their somas. For this one we all carried a plant grown
here in Madagascar—everything from vanilla to eucalyptus to native
“tsararavina.” As we were gathering for practice, half the women were
frantically searching for their plant and/or a receptacle to hold it. So of course it was dark by the time everyone
was ready to actually practice. Someone
produced a small light and I handed over my headlamp. There was a shuffling of the plants and I
ended up with cassava. The cassava they
collected was a long stem with 4 or 5 large roots hanging off the bottom—by far
the largest and most ridiculous prop. It
was made doubly funny by the fact that the “vazaha” was carrying it, and the
thought of a white person eating cassava is hilarious to any Malagasy
person. Here are some stereotypes that
you just can’t seem to bust, and I’ve come to realize that a large part of my
life here is spent as an entertainer.
Thirteen months of life in Ambohimanarina had prepared me for being the
comic centerpiece of the soma.
Before long the singing and dancing was
underway. Here I was, carrying someone’s
dinner and dancing with it like an honored partner. Up ahead, Zanamine (the soy tea seller),
dressed in her usual “kisaly” wrap, had my headlamp on and an entire vanilla
plant balanced in a bowl on her head (a point of argument later, because
everyone should be carrying their plant in their hands for uniformity). Mama nyFredo, the lead singer, was shining
her lamp down the row of plants to direct the song. In addition to singing, Mama nyFredo takes
the dancing part super seriously, and she was hopping around and shaking her
booty like her life depended on it. To
add to it all, the group’s president took the opportunity to tease Mama
nyFredo. The pres, in her hot pants, was
booty shaking in circles around the singer for an entire verse of the
song. Like I said, I try to take the
soma seriously, but all this was too much.
I couldn’t stop laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation
until long after rehearsal ended. I’m
pretty sure the women thought I had lost a few marbles, but really I’ve come to
a point where I can’t hold the laughter in.
Sometimes the customs here are so foreign that I find them hilarious.
So thanks, ladies of VLF, for putting a smile on
my face for my birthday. I don’t think I
have ever laughed so hard. I don’t think
any birthday party can match the truly special (and silly) experiences I’m
having in Peace Corps, and until next year, when it’s back to cake, that’s
enough.
