As you are walking into the kabone, your neighbor is walking out of the adjoining one and says “Vita ny alina” (the night is done). You check your watch; its only 8pm.
Your friend tells you they just saw someone throw a chicken down the kabone.
You have no idea what someone is saying to you, you just nod your head in agreement, and then it becomes clear you agreed to going on a date to that person. Oops.
You agree to help someone with their dissertation in English, and then discover they are creepy and send you good night texts every night for a week.
You’re on a taxi brousse trying to get back to site and for the 6 hours of being crammed in there, there is some preaching the story of God and it’s really loud.
You’re asked if you’re cold when it is 80 degrees outside and when you answer no, they tell you that having your shoulder exposed is not fomba and that you should cover it up.
You walk to get fried food for breakfast (cause there is no other way to have an awesome breakfast) and the mpivarotra asks if you’re eating all of the things you bought by yourself or if someone is going to help you. (did she just politely call me a fatass?)
You mention that you can’t go out because you’re sick and one of your stagemates asks, “When are you not sick?”
Your taxi brousse ride consists of a constant stream of Malagasy people throwing up. No matter how loud you turn your music up, that noise is loud.
Throwing up on a brousse consists of turning your head, throwing up in a sachet, and then throwing the sachet out of the window.
You’re asked what the program for the day is, you say nothing and then you just sit in silence staring at eachother for nearly 10 minutes.
Your downstairs neighbors asked if you “wasted the entire day” in your house watching television. (Sorry I was sick).
Your neighbors ask if your dog can no longer sleep in the house at night because she goes to the bathroom and it seeps down into their bedroom.