a typical day.

5-6AM. listen to roosters crow, cows wailing, dogs barking. smell neighbor's fire being stoked. sunlight pours through my stick-walls and the coconut trees outside my window.

6-6.30AM. very loud malagasy music begins. an interesting mix of reggae, african hiphop and accordian polka music.

6.30-7.30AM. sweep floors, go to the bathroom in the kabone (kah-boo-nay), which is just a small outdoor hut with a hole in the ground. fetch water from the well. wash dishes in a bucket outside my doorstep, pour dirty dishwater on my garden.

7.30-9AM. stroll down to the beachside shack where i drink my morning coffee and eat mokary (moo-kah-ree) with some of the village folks. coffee here is drunk in a very small cup with lots of sugar (i always get comments for drinking it black- or only using one teaspoon of sugar- instead of the three or four tablespoons they like to use). morning mokary might be made of wheat, or sometimes rice flour, fried into little balls in lots of oil. i might study or talk with my counterpart- the president of the fishing association- about what's going on in town that day.

9-12PM. go out fishing, weave baskets, help with the construction of a new house that's being built in town, work on my garden, study, go for an exploratory walk or bike ride in the beautiful surrounding areas, talk with folks. i also like to gather leaves of the moringa tree, which is the miracle tree of madagascar, though it is not a native species. the leaves of this amazing, fast-growing tree have 7x more vitamin C than an orange, 4x more vitamin A than carrots, 4x more calcium than milk, 3x more potassium than bananas and twice as much protein as yogurt. not only that, it tastes delicious, grows everywhere, and there are a zillion other uses for it, including all sorts of medicinal properties. i love the moringa tree and plan on planting many more in my village and doing educational activities based on this miracle tree.

12-2PM. the whole village retreats to their cooking huts to eat a typical meal of rice and fish. this they eat two or sometimes three times a day. i can't eat that all the time, though the fish is always fresh and delicious, so sometimes i make pasta, beans or vegetables and eggs. siesta happens after lunch, sometimes extending until 3. eventhough i have never been the best napper, it is quite hot here and the swishing of leaves overhead has a lulling effect in the afternoons, so i usually end up reading and falling asleep for a bit. i am lucky to have arrived during the malagasy winter, to become acclimated to the heat. sometimes the afternoons are so hot i like to go down to a distant secluded beach area with beautiful mangrove trees, and swim in the crystal blue water. the beach stretches for quite a distance, with no one and nothing at all, and these are usually the times i will inevitably ask myself, for the umpteenth time that day, "what am i doing here???"

3PM-5.30PM. more of the same, wandering around, weaving, talking to folks, trying to figure out what i will do for work once i speak the language better and begin to understand what the community's needs are. soon i will begin an alternative-stove building project, using local materials that can be gathered in the area, to help cut down on firewood consumption. people spend a lot of time and money using charcoal or wood fires to cook over, and this is not only deteriorating the local environment, but wastes precious resources.

5PM. maybe eat some mahongo (cassava root) cooked over fire with some village folks, or begin to prepare my own meal, or sometimes eat with a family who has invited me over for dinner. i also usually go for a walk around sunset to a pretty spot on the hill, where there is cellphone reception, to check for messages and enjoy the cooling day. the landscape near ambolobozokely reminds me of utah, montana, arizona, australia and thailand all at once. there are red-rock buttes, vast expanses of land and sky, banana trees, prickly pear cactus, mangroves, baobabs and white sandy beaches all within a five-mile radius.

7PM. there is always some loud film to watch, or booty-shaking going on at the local "discotheque" (just a larger hut lined with a few ramshackle benches, a 12-inch TV screen and some serious speakers). if i do decide to dance, which is infrequently for it is hard enough being stared at all day long, never mind on the dance floor, apparently i'm already a good malagasy dancer. when i tell people i did african dance in the states for 10 years, they think i'm weird and don't understand. and if i decide to stay at home, often while reading or cooking by candlelight, one of the more annoying neighbors will come over unannounced and make comments sulkingly about me not using electricity. "why don't you use the light?" ("manino tsy mampiasa jiro anao?") she'll say, then sit there staring at me cooking, not saying anything (not that i would really be able to understand anyway). the fact that i don't want to have bright lights on at all times is also something that seems strange to malagasy, and i've heard about it plenty from people in my village. everyone wants to have electricity in madagascar, and i do mean everyone, and here i am, eating by candlelight. very strange indeed.

9PM. after a glorious bucket bath under the stars, i usually read in bed surrounded by the safety of my mosquito netting, which protects me from any number of nighttime creepy-crawlies: beetles, snails, cockroaches, geckos, tenrecs (harmless small nocturnal mammals), rats, walking-stick bugs, large spiders or whatever else may be lurking around unseen. nevertheless, i usually sleep well, with the help of my friends, the earplugs.

sleep. awake. repeat.