An unexpected birthday present

It’s official—I spent the entire 25^th 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.