On Comfort

In just three days, I will be shoved from the familiarity and comfort of Antsirabe- a place I have grown to love and called home for the last three weeks- into a taxi brousse headed for Antananarivo. And I will stare out the window and I will reflect on everything Antsirabe gave to me. 

Antsirabe plucked someone from the familiar streets of Chapel Hill and taught her how to confidently walk alone through busy streets lined with cars, busses, pousse pousse's, and bikes. Antsirabe gave me room # D2- a safe space where I've shared stories and laughed until I cried with fellow YAGMS who were nothing more than strangers less than a month ago. Antsirabe gave me candlelit devotions. And sakakely (a little orange cat wandering around the center). And fresh bananas from the market. And laps around a soccer field. And hot coffee graciously made by friends. And hikes over rice fields. And confidence to teach that first English class. And tough conversations about what it means to be a woman in this space. 

But maybe most importantly, Antsirabe has given me Malagasy teachers and friends who have welcomed me and loved me and showed me exactly what family looks like halfway across the globe from my home. They have been patient with me when I struggle to remember "inona ny vao vao" (what's the news?) even though we learned it on the first day. They have called me by name (Meeeeeeg in the words of Mr. Henry) even though there are so many of us to keep track of. They have encouraged me to keep practicing when I'm frustrated and want to give up. And they have made made me laugh time and time again. My favorites include Jean when I asked why the word for knee (lohalika) has the word for dog (alika) in it, Mr. Henry when he asked me to help him carry an 8 foot tall map of Madagascar down spiral stairs, Nina when she shared the wild story behind her name, and Mamia when she broke out into her favorite Meghan Trainor song in the middle of class. These four incredible people have not only tirelessly worked to make sure we are learning Malagasy- they have shared their stories and welcomed us into their lives and picked us up when we've needed it the most and for that, I am most thankful. 

Antsirabe has also given me a space to learn more about the 9 other incredible women embarking on a similar but different journey than me. We've watched a lot of great movies. We've eaten a lot of rice. We've shared stories about the people we love. And we've looked out for each other. So although we will spend the next year spread out all over the fourth largest island in the world, I'm already looking forward to seeing them again in a few months. 

So, if you were to ask me how I feel about leaving Antsirabe on Tuesday- I'm sure you know my answer. It's not easy leaving the familiar for the uncomfortable. 

But then I remember how nervous I was leaving my home for orientation in Chicago, and how I was warmly welcomed into my small group family. And then how nervous I was to leave my small group family for Antsirabe, and look how that turned out. It's safe to say that with every step of this journey, I'm seeing a pattern. So I can't wait to get to my site and see what open arms are waiting for me there. 

Being in a new place isn't easy. But so far I've found that if you take the time to really get to know the people around you - the switch from unfamiliar to comfortable comes faster than you know it. So thank you, Antsirabe, for the warm welcome. I can only hope Antananarivo will be the same. 

Post cookies and soda and guitar at Nina's house! (one of our incredible Malagasy teachers)