I’ll start off this post with a quick observation. I find it so, I guess comforting for lack of a better word, the care I see the Malagasy give each other. When I’m not fending off the annoying tsks from men that I really just want to say “Go jump off a cliff” to, it’s refreshing to see the Malagasy run to the aid of their fellow natives. Just this morning, I was sitting in a taxi brousse in my town waiting for it to fill up so we could leave for Fianar to take advantage of my weekly ritual of an empty Meva and free internet. I heard the taxi brousse before I saw it, and soon it came speeding by, a little too fast for my taste. Just as it drove out of my line of vision, a huge crashing sound occurred. Next thing I know, people are running out their hotelys, tsenas, tranos, all of it, and running to help the crash. What caused the accident, I do not know as there was no obstructions in the car’s way, but the accident did occur, enough that the side door was stuck and it couldn’t be opened for a good five minutes. From my previous posts, you probably are aware that taxi brousses are the mode of transportation in Madagascar in which you try to fit as many possible people that you can in such a small space. So imagine the fear of these 40 people, crammed into the brousse, with no exit. No, the car was not on fire or smoking, but still, I would have been panicing if I was in their shoes. However, those fifty people from my town of Alakamisy were determined and everyone got out safely, no injuries. I turned to my taxi brousse driver who had returned from helping the accident and politely but firmly said, “Yea, let’s not do that.” He laughed, but firmly nodded his head.

The entire ride to Fianar, the vaovao (news) for all passengers getting on and off the brousse was the accident that occurred in my town. Nandeha mafy be sy boooom! (It was going really fast and well you don’t need a translation for that) was probably the most used sentence I have heard in a long time. That and ahhh, vazaha…with a nodding of their head. Independence Day for this country is fast approaching, June 26th, so security is even more pleasant than it normally is in this country (*cough*sarcasm*cough*). Every km or so to Fianar there is a security stop to make sure there is no transportation of homebrewed alcohol or other illegal things. Normally it’s a slow down to a crawl to pass the police and then get waved through ordeal, but with Independence Day next week, security has been tighter. Each stop, it seems a goal has popped up to try and catch a vazaha without her three IDs. Well guess what people, I’m not it. Got all three in my hand ready to go, so take that! :) And on that note, until next time!