Some call it slum. Some call it nice

June 22, 2008
(Living conditions)
From the Journal of Derek Rury

Let’s be honest. There were many jokes made about my future living conditions before I left. But I guess, at the time, I didn’t really mind Everybody wanted to point out that I would be living in a hut with no electricity and I would be shitting a hole for two years. Well, am very happy to write that at least one of those things isn’t true. I do not live in a hut. And although my house my not have electricity, my host mom has provided me with all the candles and matches a young man could ask for.
The house is actually even better than what I expected, especially my room. I had heard that trainees would barely have any personal space while living with their host families because their homes are so small and are more than likely already filled with a large family. That isn’t entirely the case with me. Even though it is not in any way advanced (the kitchen is a 5’ by 6’ room, and we use actual fire lit by twigs gathered each morning to boil water), but I would consider my bedroom, and the dining room to be luxurious by my expectations. There is also a nice veranda on the second floor, which is where all of the human rooms are (the chicken get the first floor. That’s right. They get their own floor). There seem to be more rooms downstairs, but I have yet to get a good luck at things down there, due to the large, bamboo chicken coop that blocks most of the view. I have been living here for over 4 days now and there is no way I could sketch a remotely accurate blueprint of my house.
But with the bad, there is also a lot of good. There is, of course, the view. Rivo is a farmer, so she lives on the more agricultural part of Alarobia, which gives her access to an amazing view of the valley that neighbors the town. My room has a window that overlooks that valley. And even though it has been mostly overcast everyday, it is still beautiful. Rivo is also and awesome cook. I would not say that she prepares food particularly better than others here, but she is pressing all of the right buttons when it comes to what she’s been serving. Rice. Beans. Beef. Cooked veggies. Rice. Sausage. Rice. Bread. Rice. This is perfect for me. If I had the capability, this is pretty much exactly how I would eat back home (and by capability, I mean a deprived access to cereal and milk). So that is one thing that I do not have to worry about. My mom takes care of me.
But like I said before, only one of those two things weren’t true. And even though the clothes I wear are in a perpetual state of uncleanliness (it truly seems that if I put on a seemingly clean piece of clothing, it feels it must instantly become dirty in order to fit in with the environment. Like a chameleon. Except not nearly as cool), this is not nearly as bad as having to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Many people referred to my prospective bathroom as a hole in the ground, and they were right, although it is dressed up a bit. It is not merely a hole in the ground. It’s like an outhouse actually. But instead of a toilet, it’s a hole in the ground. I don’t think I mind going #1 in the hole (it’s actually more convenient than a toilet. Nobody cares if you splash some here or there), and after a few times, #2 isn’t so bad either. But is’ the vomit inducing stench combined with the insanely unsanitary nature of this outhouse that makes going poddy completely and utterly undesirable, dreadful even, at times. But like I said, going to the kabone isn’t as bad as many people think. It’s just stuff like having to lift up my pants when I squat so that they don’t drag on the urine drenched floor that gets me. It is something I just need to get used to. I need to become more sanitation conscious in general too. I need to wash my hands several times a day and make sure everything I come into contact with has been cleaned. An impossible task I know, but trying our best to do so is mandated by the two Peace Corps doctors here in Madagascar. They have used every trick in the book trying to scare us, even a story about a former volunteer who gagged up a nearly one-foot-long tape worm. I nearly gagged up my 10 mile long small intestines when I heard that. I will never look at another earth worm the same way again. But going to the kabone during the day is not nearly as disturbing as the option provided at night. Volunteers are strongly encourage (required) to stay in their host homes at night on the account of rabid dogs and malaria carrying mosquitoes. So since we can’t go out at night, which of course is when my body has been trained to go, we are provided with a bucket, essentially. I never thought that going #2 would be a problem for anybody, but I didn’t take a dump for nearly 3 days. I still admit to myself that I refuse to go #2 in my poe at night. They give it a cute name like poe to make it seem like it’s not actually a shit bucket. But it essentially is a shit bucket. It’s also used as a trash can. Great. So I am expected to use my poe, filled with my own waste and the waste of whatever I use, and go back to sleep with it just sitting and stewing in the corner of my room. Like I said, no #2 in the poe. I am going to make that my slogan for the next 2 years.

Welcome to Paradise - Green Day