-- though perfectly wonderful -- hut. The hut itself has wooden walls and roof, with a thatched-roof veranda on 3 sides. It's quite idyllic. Throughout the day, boats of Vezo fishermen (and boys) troll the little bay and sea in their pirogues (dug-out canoes), some with sails, others powered by paddles. Some of the narrow boats have 5 people in them. The boats have
outriggers to stabilize them and provide a place to sit or climb aboard. I wish the snobby East coast sailing crowd would come see this -- some of the sails on these boats look like torn, recovered feed bags stitched together a bit (they probably are just a step above that), and yet can they MOVE!! No winches, no block and tackle, just teeth, strong arms, and a lifetime on the
sea. Indeed, to be Vezo is not an ethnicity or a heritage, but a present way of life: if you know how to live with the sea, you can be Vezo.
The trip to Andavadoaka took the 7 hours promised. We had the Blue Ventures 4x4, so it was luxurious but slow going. I didn't mind at all, as I got to absorb the sights of the spiny forest, coastline, and villages we passed. And I take back my previous statement about baobabs being disappointing. On the coast, in the midst of the dry, spiny forest, they are surreal. They
grow into bizarre contortions resembling something out of a sci-fi book. Sadly, none of them have leaves. It seems that while the trees are sacred, the leaves are not. There are little holes along the side of each of the trees, often with pegs in them, forming a kind of ladder. As soon as the leaves emerge, someone climbs us, chops them off, and feeds them to the Zebu (cattle). It makes for a very sad-looking baobab, with its spindly fingers outstretched towards the sky. So far in Madagascar, I have seen some wonderful endemic birdlife -- I kept thinking how great it would be to have Sea along! We saw a couple of long-tailed ground rollers (I think), a huge
owl (in the car headlights), some crested drongos (perhaps), lots of little things that I can't identify, black-and-white crows, a dozen pheasants, and a few falcons and kites (that gather at the edge of burning fields to swoop down on all the animals fleeing the blaze).
We arrived at Coco Beach in Andavadoaka in time for dinner; everyone was sitting at the table. (Blue Ventures has taken over an old beach hotel, a few minutes walk from the center of town. Andavadoaka itself has about 1500 inhabitants, in tightly-packed reed huts along the beach. I'll describe it more thoroughly once I've explored some more -- both times I have been in
the village, it has been dark.) There are 14 volunteers, mainly from the UK and mainly college-age or just out of college. These volunteers sign on for a 6-week scientific diving holiday. Its an amazing deal: learn to dive, learn to do transects and surveys, memorize an amazing amount of biological information, analyze some data, teach village school children English, take
side trips, sit by beach fires at night, ... My fellow staff (about 15 or so) also seem lovely. Three research scientists (Sophie, Chiara, and Amanda) lead the volunteer dives, then we have an expedition director (Nick) and a community manager (Shawn), there is a family planner (Maggie), and a sea-cucumber aquaculturist (Georgi), all of whom are from Europe or the US.
A large Malagasy staff is also based here: Daniel (an octopus expert), Bienvenue and her team (social impact monitoring), Gildas (social marketing) and a few others. Eventually Haj and Dani (Master's students at the University in Tulear) will also come to help me do fieldwork. There is also a kitchen/hotel staff. And I'm still learning all the names and roles...
Adjusting to life here has not been all that hard. The temperature is ideal (about 75 - 80 during the day and significantly cooler at night), and there are few bugs (so far not a single mosquito!). Electricity is on from 9:30 - 12:30 and again from 3:30 - 9 so it really isn't an issue. (Although I did have to fix the socket in my room which was hanging precariously from the wall, and which only gave juice if I jammed the plug into it and held it. Not exactly useful, since this is also the time I am supposed to be working.) We download emails twice a week (Monday and Thursday). I have yet to determine if I am going to freak out about that. I have plenty of resources on my laptop and in an enormous binder I brought with me to inform my work, but the lack of immediate access to "the literature" or quick advice might, well, either make me more self-sufficient or kill me. There is running water in my hut (shower only (temperature depends on time of day, in other words, was the water in the pipe warmed by the sun or not?), and a
flush toilet is about 50 meters away). The height of luxury, really! Food is made for us 3 times a day (I could get used to this!), the coffee isn't bad, and the rice-beans-and-small-amount-of-veggie meals for lunch and dinner are nutritious. Plus, there is cold beer. I mean, what more could you want?? (OK, so after 3 months of rice and beans, where the variety is sprinkling on
the chipotle or curry that I brought with me, I bet I will KILL for a super-salad!)
Right now I am sitting in the shade of my veranda with my laptop, listening to the lapping of small waves as the tide comes back in. I am still perplexed about my research design. After reading reports and plowing through spreadsheets all morning, I think there is quite a lot of data
scattered about, so I've been trying to get that in order. Different people have various bits and pieces of what I need -- some are still here, some have moved on. I met with Daniel, who knows the project inside and out, for the first time yesterday afternoon. The partial cost-benefit analysis
(looking at just the direct use of the octopus) is going to require a survey of fishermen, because we need information about their costs in order to understand their profits. I also learned that there is a very powerful middleman in Andavadoaka, who also owns the supermarket in town, whom I need to consider as part of the supply chain.
For the indirect benefits and costs, I still hope to gather some primary data. The team that does the social surveys may also be prepared to implement some of my household interviews/surveys. I read in a report that the community is tired of being endlessly interviewed about the same things, and, perhaps understandably but still problematically, has come to expect payment for participating in the research. Hopefully she can help me figure out the way to get the information we need either from existing data or, if need be, how we should go about gathering new data (and hopefully I will soon figure out what data I need! AHHH!). This morning, I talked with Bienvenue for 2 hours. She is currently planning a survey, so I am going to add in some questions. From talking with her, it seems that the community is not all too pleased about these NTZs. In fact, she said most of them call the NTZs "vazaha" = of the foreigners. Not a good sign at all, and all the more reason to carefully talk about the distribution of any net benefits.
In any case, today I hope to have an email from Pieter with some advice on research design. I am still completely overwhelmed by it all, but I hope things will start to fall in place as I start playing with data and set out some discrete, concrete first steps. (By the way, a GORGEOUS pirogue in its prime is passing by - with green-yellow-red colorful new paint and a spotless matching sail.) I hope that once I have a good idea of my path, I will be able to take a bit more time to enjoy the surroundings. This morning, I went for a snorkel/swim, and last night I spent an hour or so
with the volunteers and staff in the village, but there is so much to see! And every evening, I give an English lesson to some of the Malagasy staff (and they teach me some words). In all, the hours of work are punctuated by good times.
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