Ten Ferries to Fort Dauphin: The Story of My Biggest Peace Corps Adventure

Author's note: this is a post that I have been wanting to write for almost 2 years. However, because some of the people involved were still serving as PCVs until now, and because we broke a few Peace Corps rules in doing this, I've been forced to wait a while to write about it. When a classmate of mine asked me 'what was the craziest thing you did in Madagascar?', the story of this adventure was my answer. It remains one of the highlights of my experience in Madagascar, and one of the most rewarding and challenging things I have ever done in my life.

I have always been entranced by maps. I lose myself just staring at them, poring over place names and imagining the adventures they hold. And so when I first learned of my Peace Corps site placement midway through Pre-Service Training, I quickly looked up Vangaindrano on the map at the training center. I pointed at my new town to one of our volunteer trainers, remarking “oh look, I won’t be that far away from Fort Dauphin” [a popular large-ish city on the island’s southeastern tip, located on a beautiful bay]. And then she proceeded to laugh hysterically. 

Map courtesy the Bradt Guide to Madagascar

You see, in Madagascar, sometimes maps lie. In this case, what the map says is a road is actually more of a “road”. It uses the term very loosely. She explained to me that not only is the Route Nationale 12A unpaved, but it’s notoriously treacherous, and just plain mind-bogglingly bad. What’s more, it includes 10 ferry crossings where inland rivers spill out into the Indian Ocean, like the teeth of a zipper. Given how terrible the road has always been, and the vast plains of emptiness that lie between Vangaindrano and Ft. Dauphin, it’s no surprise that bridges have never been built. So as a result, this 230km (143 mile) coastal stretch that should be a straight shot from Vangaindrano to Ft. Dauphin takes at least 2 days in a 4x4, more if you’re in a taxi-brousse (if you can even find one taking the trip.) The paved road heading south from Irondro, the Route Nationale 12, ends in Vangaindrano, giving my site what the Bradt guidebook calls “a frontier town feel”; any road venturing further south is just mud, rocks, and dirt. But on the map it looks like such a straight shot down Madagascar’s arrow-straight east coast. And all throughout the first year of my service, Ft. Dauphin sat on the map on my wall, taunting me, beckoning me. It was so close, yet so far away. I had to find a way to make the trip. And I decided to do it on a bicycle.

But it looks like such a straight shot!

A new year

I feel a bit crazy even writing this, but one of the truest statements I've ever heard came from a reality show-- The Real Housewives of New York City, to be specific. (Ok just hear me out.) It was during perhaps the second or third season, when Jill Zarin's mother Gloria made an appearance. She was talking about the fleeting nature of time and related it by saying "you know one minute it's Passover, and then you turn around, and all of a sudden it's Rosh Hashanah." My friend Danielle and I always quote this around the Jewish holidays because every year we can never believe that the next holiday is already upon us-- wow, that much time has passed already? So recently when I looked at my calendar and realized that Rosh Hashanah was around the corner, I had a bit of a Gloria moment. As a Peace Corps volunteer, you can measure your time service in holidays-- before I go home I'll have spent 3 birthdays and 2 Passovers/High Holidays/Hanukkahs/Christmases/New Years in this country-- and so this time I realized that not only was Rosh Hashanah almost upon us, but this would be my last one in Madagascar. There is no shofar in this country, and as far as I know, no rabbis, so like last year, I'll try to honor the holiday in my own personal way-- a candle lighting and prayer, a honey cake, and by entering a period of reflection and thought inspired by a piece of paper that someone handed me four Rosh Hashanahs ago.

In 2010, I attended High Holidays services with my friend Danny at MJE (Manhattan Jewish Experience), which is a program run for young professionals in New York. It's one of many initiatives in NYC that aims to bridge the gap between Jewish involvement in college (via Hillel) and adulthood (because many people tend to wait until they're married and with families to join a synagogue.) MJE isn't a true synagogue, and when I attended services they were held at the Swedish Cultural Center of all places (hey, in NYC, a space is a space!), but the experience I had there ended up being one of the most impactful of any of my encounters with Judaism.

Earlier that year, I had accepted a promising new job after being recruited via a headhunter. It felt like one of the most adult transformations of my life-- my career was taking off, and I now had the money to move into my own studio apartment in Manhattan, something I'd always wanted to do. But I still had lingering thoughts about joining the Peace Corps. After years of putting it off for various jobs and promotions, I had finally submitted my application in late 2009. But then when this job offer came through, I decided to put my application on hold. I told myself that I'd take the job and use it as a litmus test for whether or not, once and for all, I would actually join the Peace Corps. It was "before I turned 30" or never, I told myself. So I started the job, moved into my new place, and began the new Manhattanite phase of my life: walking to work at my 18th floor office overlooking Times Square, getting my dry cleaning delivered to my doorman, visiting Starbucks way too often, spending much of my free time at Equinox gym, and very often, working late into the night as the vibrant carousel of Times Square's electric billboards reflected in my computer screen. Would this job, and the accelerating e-commerce career that could potentially transpire from it, be enough to sustain me? Would this be enough to let me put the Peace Corps dream to rest?

Ultimately, as you have no doubt guessed, I decided that it wasn't. I loved the new responsibility and rigor of my job, and I found myself growing immensely from the various challenges that it presented. But towards the end of 2010, I realized that I still wanted something more. That something more may take a different form for others, but for me, it was Peace Corps-- which exemplified to me an adventure, a break from a desk job (which I'd held since two weeks after college graduation), a chance to expand my horizons and test my limits, and a life-changing experience that I believed would ultimately make me a stronger person and a better employee, no matter where my career took me.

Coming to this decision wasn't an overnight revelation, because the question weighed on my mind all throughout that year. What really led me to make this realization was the Rosh Hashanah service at MJE, and the accompanying questionnaire that came in the booklet they handed out. It seemed innocuous enough-- just some questions to help you reflect on the past year, and prepare for the coming one-- but when I sat down on my couch and began to answer the questions in my journal, I ended up entering into a period of the truest self-reflection that I have ever had. And that's when I realized that in my heart of hearts, I still wanted to do the Peace Corps. So shortly thereafter I contacted my recruiter, told her to re-open my application, and then a year and a half later, I arrived in Madagascar.

I credit these simple questions with helping me keep my life on track with what matters most to me. I've answered these same questions for myself for every Rosh Hashanah since that first one, and it continues to be an inspiring and reflective exercise. Doing it last year helped me stay focused on my goal of studying for the GMAT and taking the exam so that I could apply to business school (goal: complete!), and this year I'm using it to help me navigate the certain-to-be difficult period when I come home from the Peace Corps and have to figure out how to reintegrate into America.

I'm posting these questions below because I think it's a rewarding exercise for anyone, Jewish or not. I don't know where they came from, only that they were printed in the brochure that MJE handed out, so I apologize to the author that I can't assign any credit. If you have a few moments and are inclined to spend some time on self-reflection, sit down and answer these for yourself. I hope they prove as useful for other people as they do for me. As many of you know, I came to embrace Judaism later in life, in my early 20's, and what has drawn me to it is its ability to help me become the best possible person that I can be. This exercise is just another example of that.

The essential opportunity of Rosh Hashanah is to clarify for ourselves what our truest, “bottom line” priorities are in life. No time is more appropriate than today for asking ourselves some basic questions in order to clarify—and remind ourselves—what is that is truly important to us and who it is we ultimately want to be.

To reflect on some of the following questions is quite apropos on this, the day of judgement:

1.     When do I most feel that my life is meaningful?

2.     Those who mean most to me—have I ever told them how I feel?

3.     Are there any ideals I would be willing to die for?

4.     If I could live my life over, would I change anything?

5.     What would bring me more happiness than anything else in the world?

6.     What are my three most significant achievements since last Rosh Hashanah?

7.     What are the three biggest mistakes I’ve made since last Rosh Hashanah?

8.     What project or goal, if left undone, will I most regret next Rosh Hashanah?

9.     If I knew I couldn’t fail—what would I undertake to accomplish in life?

10. What are my three major goals in life?

a.     What am I doing to achieve them?

b.     What practical steps can I take in the next two months?

11. If I could only give my children three pieces of advice, what would they be?

Peace Corps Passover

            When I joined the Peace Corps, I knew I’d have to make some sacrifices and adjustments to the lifestyle that I’d been accustomed to— chief among these was how I practice Judaism and observe holidays. From conversations with my Peace Corps placement officer I knew I would have to tread carefully since I’d be living in a country where most people probably don’t know what Judaism is. And, let’s be honest, I wasn’t really expecting to be able to find matzoh anywhere in a country like Madagascar. One thing I did know for certain, however, is that I didn’t want to lose the Jewishness from my identity, because among other things, I credit its influence with helping me be the person I want to be—someone who serves as a Peace Corps volunteer, quite honestly. In fact, my short answer to the oft-asked question of “why did you want to join the Peace Corps?” could probably be two words: tikkun olam, which is the Hebrew phrase for the Jewish ideal that translates to “repairing the world”.

            So when I realized at the end of March that Passover was coming right around the corner, I knew that I wanted to do at least something to observe it.  Obviously it wasn’t going to be feasible to observe the dietary laws when I still have to eat whatever they serve us at the training center, so that part was out of the question. But as fortune would have it, I discovered during our tech trip that one of my fellow volunteers, Emma, is also Jewish and was hoping to do something for Passover as well. So, on the second night, we held a very modified seder at the training center. One of our non-Jewish friends also joined in, and we had a fun time making the best of it given our limited resources. I made a Peace Corps-version seder plate using, among other things, cooked potatoes in place of matzoh, and sakay (hot pepper relish that’s popular in Madagascar) in place of horseradish.  My crowning achievement, however, was my Macgyver-ed “wine” for the 4 cups, which I made using vodka and water mixed with Cran-Grape drink mix packets. Hey, you have to work with what you’ve got.

Cups of "wine"

            After the seder, a few more friends joined us at the table and Emma and I ended up talking about Judaism and Jewish holidays with them—trying and failing to remember any Passover songs, and making plans for celebrating Rosh Hashanah together, somewhere in Madagascar.  The night ended up being perfect, and just what I needed to help me keep some bit of connection to my Jewish identity and my life back home. I haven’t had that many moments of homesickness since being here, but when I got to thinking about not being able to celebrate Passover (or any other holidays) in New York with my close friends, it all hit me at once. Realizing that I could keep up some sort of observance during my time here was a balm that smoothed some of the rough edges of that little bit of homesickness.

            At the end of the seder, after we said “next year in Jerusalem” (but let’s be honest, it’s more likely to be “next year in Antananarivo”), we went around the table and talked about what Passover meant to us being here. For me, I have a very distinct connection between Peace Corps and Passover, because it was while I was at my friend Jesse’s parents’ house for a seder last year that I got the phone call from Peace Corps saying that I was finally medically cleared for service.  So it was a great moment to be here in Madagascar, exactly one year later, celebrating the holiday with new friends yet remembering everyone back home, and reflecting on my good fortune to exactly where I am right now.