Saturday, 6 November 2010

A poultry story

I thought I’d take up the theme of poultry again. It just seems to be an underlying theme in all my field work/travels. My first bus ride in Tanzania was immortalized by the presence of a lady holding a chicken, happily clucking away on her lap. Frankly, I think I could write a whole book on my poultry experiences… and I’m sure I would sell at least one: to my father.

Still, I am amazed by the number of poultry experiences I’ve encountered here in such a short period of time. Let’s list a few:

1. We are blessed on camp with the presence of Fabio – the relentless turkey. He is constantly parading to the genuinely uninterested female turkeys. And to the minibus. I wish I could sit him down and tell him to stop, or at least rethink his appearance, because frankly Fabio, you look a bit dishevelled.

2. In Manakara, while we were at the internet, a man stopped at the door. He was carrying a stick, holding chicken by their feet on either side. He was quite keen to sell them to us.

3. The geese and more importantly, the goslings. I think they are even better than baby bunnies… and anybody who was around when I was in the lab, knows that in itself is a feat.

4. The rooster in a bag. While waiting for our ride back to Kianjavato (scheduled at 8, leaving at 9:30), a lady tried stuffing a rooster in a plastic bag, to no avail. He was resisting greatly, though it really was for his safety. After a good 10 minutes, she resorted in lining a basket with said bag, and putting him in it. We laughed a bit, but then some 20 minutes later, we saw a basket being thrown from the office to one of the loaders. Megan questioned, “is that the chicken?”. Before I could answer, we heard an outraged cluck from the bag, confirming it was indeed the rooster. He then was tied onto the roof of the minibus. So really, the woman was simply trying to provide him with a windbreaker.

5. Calvin. Unexplicably, for a few days, there was a young rooster tied to a post in the kitchen, kind of like a dog on a peg. I assume he’d been naughty and they thought it was some form of adequate punishment.

6. My favorite – last night, while eating lunch, we heard a distressed cluck and turn around to discover a chicken on its back, frantically pedalling the air. It resembled some kind of grotesque beetly unable to turn back around. Luckily, whilst hilarity rippled through most of us, Henriette had the decency of helping to get it back on its feet. But it was funny.

7. Mass poultry transport – how do you get ducks and chickens back to Tana to sell on the market? By putting them in giant baskets tied to the top of taxi brousses of course.

Friday, 5 November 2010

Piece of advice - don't eat mangoes without washing them.

You may get a slight bout of food poisoning. And then have to take a taxi brousse. I've had better days.
So my time is running up in Madagascar. And this last week has been a strange one. Food poisoning rendered me unable to do field work on Tuesday. Tuesday night it rained... and rained... and rained. After kitting up for a wet day on the field and a breakfast of rice and peanut butter (2nd most awesome one after rice and chips), we get to Sangasanga to discover that the bridge is completely flooded and impassible. No field work for us that day either...
Yesterday, I had to be transported up in urgency to Tana because the Ministry of Foreign Affairs didn't want to give me my passport back. The plan was to have me stake out at the Ministry today, and not leaving the building before they gave it back to me. I had wild dreams of being the headline of international papers, along the line of "Vahza ties herself to the ministry's columns in protest". 5 minute fame, here I am!
But those dreams were crushed when 4 hours into my trip yesterday, got a call from the secretary saying that they conceded giving me my passport back. Ever so kind of them. Except that now I have 4 days to kill... in slight solitary confinement. But, I guess I will consider this is my last vacation in a long time (it took me a few hours of whinging on Skype to come to this conclusion).
The office is kindly harboring my poor lost soul for 2 nights. The setup - an actual bed built in 10 minutes in a tiny little office. My bag? on the balcony with giant spiders. And I mean giant.
The bonus? Internet, and the whole house to myself in the evenings. The pitfall? Nobody to talk to per say... Except you wonderful world of internet and no readers.

Anyway, enough ramblings, I've got pictures to put up.