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.