Iza ny anaranao "chips"?

"Iza ny anaranao?" in official Malagasy is, loosely,"What is your name?" Literally, it is "Who the your name?" But that's neither here or there. What's funny about this particular phrase is how Waverly chooses to use it.

She doesn't know much Malagasy except some basics that Chandler and I have taught her: greetings, please (and thank you and excuse me - all one word in official), and how to ask for someone's name. Oh, and "Avia!" and "Mivoaka!" Commands we use with the dog and Waverly, in turn, uses with the kids she plays with...  Otherwise, we recognize our first language within the family and hope that she will pick up Malagasy in her interactions with the nationals. 

Unfortunately, this is more difficult than we hoped and she hasn't learned anymore than what we've taught her; hence her incorrect, but hilarious, usage of the question, "Iza ny anaranao?" For example, when she wants our day guard to make her a jump rope out of palm leaves, she asks him, "Azafady, Jean Claude, Iza ny anaranao jump rope?" Or when she wants to help our housekeeper mop the floor, "Azafady, Iza ny anaranao help?" 

But it will come. The longer we are here, the better she'll learn to communicate with those around her. For now, the communication barrier doesn't seem to bother her too much, especially since kids have the uncanny ability to communicate without words and still have a great time. 

For me, though, it's tough. My heart hurts for her and makes me miss her friends back home. And it makes me more anxious for the baby to come, for her to have a little one to grow up with who will understand her and our culture and language. At the same time, I think back on the last year and a half and all that we have been through together as a team of three. Chandler and I both agree that we've had a great three and a half years with just our girl. I blame it on the hormones that my emotions and feelings are so conflicting.

So, as a last "hurrah" as the Snyder family of three, we are doing at least one big family thing each week leading up to the baby's birth.

Last week we spent the afternoon at the beach.

We relaxed...

Played a little football...

Built various things...

And acted like goofballs...

It goes without saying that we had a wonderful day together and made great memories. My hope is, when days get hard for Waverly, be it because of her baby brother or sister getting all of the attention or her want for friends, that she will look back on these days and know that there were special times just for her.

On the pregnancy front: I am now almost 32 weeks along. And, although well into the third trimester, I'd like to have something recorded about the second trimester. 

Much like my pregnancy with Waverly, the second trimester wasn't much of a honeymoon as it is considered to be on all of the pregnancy websites. Only this time around, the three months of this trimester were caught up in the flurry of moving and stress of settling in to a new town, new routine, and new problems to overcome. I first felt baby kicks at the end of the first trimester; however, baby really got going in the second. No illness, no major physical complaints, and no problems sleeping! By the second trimester with Waverly, I was sleeping with a pillow between my knees and one under my belly and had constant issues with my hip falling asleep. Now, thanks to our fabulous Tempurpedic, I've only just recently run into problems sleeping and that's mostly because I have to go to the bathroom every few hours. :/ 

It's been interesting being pregnant in Madagascar. I fully expected to be assaulted at every turn with the women and children touching my belly; however, that's not been the case and for that, I am so so thankful. It would be a detriment to my Christian witness having to manhandle nationals for invading my personal space. 

It also never hurt a girl to have maternity clothes. With my first pregnancy, I was wearing dark colors and winter appropriate clothing. This time around, even though it's been winter here in Madagascar, I've had no need of the cold weather clothes, but I've made due and haven't raised a complaint because, by golly, nothing feels better to a pregnant momma than maternity pants. 

Only 2 1/2 weeks until Waverly and I fly to Johannesburg and after the day I've had today, the day couldn't come quick enough!

In Our Backyard

The following story will, more than likely, evolve into a saga which could be a really good thing in regards to the advancement of the Gospel. The story begins like this...

A couple of weeks ago, I was awakened by yelling, screaming, and, what I assumed to be, running on the other side of our wall. It was just after 7 in the morning. I didn't think much of it, except that it made me a bit uneasy and to mention it to Chandler who said the people were just herding cattle. My instinct, which sharpens when you have children, told me that was an incorrect assessment; however, we went about our morning as usual. 

We eventually found out, from our day guard, that there had been a fire in the compound behind ours which had destroyed at least five huts. So Chandler headed over to check on the situation and later that afternoon, we took them our condolences, prayers, and a small gift.

Over the course of the next couple of days, through our language tutor, we learned that the at least 20 people living on the compound are 1) Tandroy and 2) one big family - the patriarch has four wives and between all that there are at least 15 kids and possibly other relatives. They sell charcoal and their early morning cooking fire was blown by the wind, catching the charcoal and the buildings. Thankfully, the fire was contained and nobody was hurt, but, of course, they lost a lot of their few possessions and would have to rebuild. 

Between those of us who understand, this fire was really a blessing for our cause, at least. We learned that there are Tandroy people all around us and this situation allows for more not-awkward opportunities for us to visit with them and build a relationship.

Speaking of not-awkward opportunities to visit... This past Monday, while I was at Bible study, I received a semi-frantic call from Chandler asking (read: imploring) me to come home at my earliest convenience (read: immediately) because our neighbors had invited us to join them for the circumcision of 6 of the patriarch's sons, which is quite a "to-do" in Madagascar, and he (desperately) needed back up. Of course, I came straight home. 

As we turned down our "street", one if the other girls with me said, "Is that Waverly?" pointing to a field where a herd of children were running in a close pack. This usually signifies that there is a white-skinned, red (ish)-headed, little girl smack in the middle. And this little girl would, obviously, be our daughter.

For the entire hour and a half of our visit, we sat with the family and friends, using what little Tandroy we have thus far retained. That's it. Nothing special. In fact, neither the patriarch, nor his four wives really acknowledged us much after the initial invitation. It wasn't rudeness, there was just a lot going on. Like, the two-year-old, newly-circumcised boys (yes, they were two years old...) were passed out in their mothers' laps, legs splayed open, sporadically crying out. It was pitiful and clearly the mothers were too busy caring for the little ones to pay any special attention to me.

I had so many questions to ask! This is a huge tradition in the Malagasy culture and each tribe conducts the ceremony differently, but how do you appropriately ask about the details of an event such as this? My bench-mates weren't much help...

Neither were Chandler's buddies, as they were drinking and smoking. Fortunately, we were offered an unopened bottle of Coke to share.

From what we could glean from observation, the boys are not circumcised until they are two years old or older. The ceremony is performed in the home by a doctor (we don't know what letters are behind the doctor's name, if any) and the foreskin is disposed of in a... ceremonial way. We were told one thing and experienced another, so the details are still unclear. Maybe one day when we find out the truth we will divulge; however, if you happened to watch the last minute of this episode of Bizarre Foods on the Travel Channel, well, you'll have a good idea of what could have happened this day.

As per Tandroy custom, we were given a gift. In this case, the two largest goose eggs I've ever seen. One of which Waverly broke... that was embarrassing. So we fried it up when we get home.

After about an hour and a half of sitting, chatting, and keeping a keen eye on Waverly and the other children, Chandler asked for the way: it is respectful to ask permission to leave when invited to visit. We took our leave and headed home very exhausted and a little traumatized.

The patriarch has referred to Chandler as "longo" (pronounces loon-goo) which means family member or a friend who is like family. We realize this could be a good relationship.