Infrastructure: Needs Improvement

When I left you last I was Manakara bound on train that an amalgam of Chris Van Allsburg and Rudyard Kipling couldn't have possibly conceived.  We arrived on time at the station, 7:00 AM sharp, however in keeping with cultural norms the train had been rescheduled to depart at 11:00 AM.  See that there still was no train present in the station, we assumed that one could quite possible arrive and be ready to depart within 4 hours.  As the station slowly gathered a crowd of aimless pedestrians, produce, and passengers the novelty of the train ride had already been tarnished.  But then at 1:30 PM we were granted access to the platform, much in the same way cattle are herded into a rodeo.  I, like any carless PCV had brought my bike along, and thinking that this being a train I assumed that there would be ample room for it onboard.  However the one box car on train was already stuffed with rice, carrots, and an unfathomable amount of leeks.  Thus at this point I was informed that I would have to pay an additional 4000Ar to transport my bike; not too shocking but not really necessary either.  Then there was the icing when an additional 400Ar was demanded to purchase the rope to tie my bike to God knows where on the train; "Run It!"  We managed to secure our seats in the first class car, which translates to a chicken free environment complete with a bathroom that lacks any respect for the crossties bellow.  At approximately 3:30 PM the diesel electric beast lumbered out of the station, an understandable eight and a half hours late.

We found ourselves sharing our seats with a man one would swear to be Anthony Bourdain.  Apart from looks, Serge also travelled light, immersed himself in the culture; even if that means cramming into a taxi brousse with 24 other people and some chickens, and avoided the typical travel guide hotspots.  Needless to say we quickly became friends, discussing Madagascar's flora and fauna and its culture.  But as the sun began to set only two hours into the train ride there really wasn't much to look at, other than the passengers and poor condition of the train car.  It was at this time that we were informed that we had only covered 20K of an over 200K long journey, would we ever make it to Manakara and at what time.  The train cuts its way through the remaining rainforest between Fianar and the coast, and for many it is the only way to access their villages.  Thus frequent stops were made throughout the night, and it wasn't quite clear whether or not they were for passengers or repairs.  However the stillness of the forest did allow me to catch a few Zs here and there.  In a sleep deprived delirium we disembarked the train in Manakara at 4:30 AM only 13 hours later.  The same journey via taxi brousse takes a mere 6 hours and is half the price but nowhere nearly as memorable.

Returning to my site, I discovered that the drought we had staved off was still in effect.  We scrambled to preserve the harvest of tomatoes and cabbage but it became quite clear that there is not enough water at the current location to continue gardening beyond August.  Never one to accept defeat we developed and smaller satellite garden close to the river.  With an ample water supply we can continue grow vegetables for the school's lunch program, and the two garden system allows us to teach fallow and compost cropping techniques.  After this development we really started to consider the evolution of this program, and where the next volunteer and generation of students will take it from here.  Right now we're building the foundation and for now that means nurturing the soil, and planting trees for tomorrow's shade.

While the people of Ambalona and I have been hard at work improving our food security, I can't quite say that Madagascar's department of public works has been doing quite the same.  I recently travelled to down to Matanga to help a fellow volunteer build a fence for his school garden program.  Upon arriving in Matanga after biking a horrendous 30K. I was faced with unique challenge.  There is a river and while there is a bridge it's not exactly what one considers passable.  For the time being it's for pedestrian traffic only, although it used to accept motor vehicles, however when you have a bike, with saddlebags that are loaded tools, carrying it across several rusty I-beams laid out disintegrating pillars that suspend you 15ft above pongee stick laden water doesn’t seem like a good idea; fiainana.

It's actually Two Lanes

Then in other news, the steel truss bridge to ManakaraBe that I frequently traverse, one who's conditions resembles the bridges of VT's NEK, recently collapsed into the canal.  A truck loaded down with salt on its way to the ocean of all places, caused the French era steel to fail claiming the lives of two cows below.  Fortunately no one else was harmed, and in Gasy fashion the bridge is actually still passable, just not by cars anymore but if you like you can take a boat across for 200Ar ($.09).  I'll let you know how the repairs are coming along in about a month.

Periodic Maintenance is Overrated

Salama

Nick