If You were a Malagasy…

If you follow my blog regularly, then you know by now that you can purchase just about anything on the streets in Madagascar. There’s a dealer or vendor for literally anything you can think of, even the most random items. Some merchandise is more common than others. But generally speaking, there is a vendor for whatever you think could possibly be sold.

Hats? No problem. Backpacks? Yes. Cheap children’s toys? Oh yes. Women’s lingerie? You bet. A lady selling a pile of scissors? Where else would you buy them? A rack of random TV remotes? Yes, sir. Assorted electronics that may or may not work ranging from earphones and speakers to computer mice and charging cords? Be prepared to play mouse roulette like I did (that’s when you buy a cheap wireless mouse off the street and see what’s wrong with it when you get home just to go buy another one the next day until you find one that works consistently.) Books? Only if you’re into cheap, cheesy romance novels that most certainly contain an excessive number of explicit scenes. Yikes! But also there’s a market filled with old books, many of them French classics. I’ve been there a few too many times and have accumulated several piles of French books for a relatively small sum. Someone to fix your bag’s zipper? No problem. Puppies from a cardboard box? Just don’t ask about vaccination. Shoes, belts, sunglasses, and dresses? You sure can find anything you’re looking for. And to quote Hagrid the friendly giant from Harry Potter when he responds to Harry who innocently asked, “Can we really buy all these things in London?” “You just gotta’ know where to go.”

During our vacation to Ranomafana and Morondava, my friends and I began playing a game, a question really, that if you were a Malagasy, what would you sell? The rules were simple; you have to sell something or provide a service that could actually be done in Madagascar, you had to have a marketing strategy, and there had to be at least one catch or something wrong with your product. Today I will share with you our answers.

Megan: Megan is my fellow English teaching assistant/roommate here in Madagascar. Megan decided that she would sell calendars. However, all the calendars are old and sometimes used. However, she sells calendars from far enough back that the dates and days actually correspond with the current year. So although the year of the calendar is completely wrong, it is still technically feasible if you ignore the year and perhaps all the things written on it.

Kayleigh: Kayleigh is a Fulbright researcher/PhD candidate here in Tana where she studies virology, specifically the spread of viruses, worms, and parasites from wild to domestic dogs. Kayleigh decided that she would sell plants on the street. Her marketing strategy is that her plants are like miracle plants that are easy to take care of and never die. You never really have to water them nor do they ever wilt. The catch? She misidentifies all of them so she actually knows nothing about any of the plants nor how to take care of them.

Drew: Drew is Kayleigh’s partner who came to visit us and went on vacation with us. Drew would sell brooms and Drew’s marketing strategy would be to talk absolute s*** about other people’s brooms. “That dude’s broom?? Are you kidding me, guy?! You’re gonna need my broom to sweep up what’s left of that guy’s broom after you use it. Absolute garbage.” The catch? Drew gets his brooms from the same place as all the other broom guys.

Dominic: Dominic is a recent graduate of UC Berkeley and is a field technician for the University of Chicago studying bats. He and Kendal, who also went to UC Berkeley and has the same technician job, both live in an apartment in our building but occasionally spend anywhere from a week to two weeks out in the field at a time. Dominic would sell pets, all sorts of pets. He’d market it by claiming to have the best and cutest pets in Madagascar. The catch? Dominic is emotionally attached to all the pets he’s trying to sell. So if you want to buy one, he’ll be agreeable up until he starts expressing his unhealthy attachment for the animal you want to purchase, just before he says something along the lines of, “No, no. You can’t have him. He’s too precious to me.”

Kendal: I already introduced Kendal. However, she would sell épicerie cabinets. Épiceries are like spice stores that also sometimes sell some low-key medications or herbs, and just about any other miscellaneous household item. All of them here in Madagascar seem to have the same glass cases where they hold the spices and herbs, or whatever else is there. Wooden frames with glass and a swinging door with a latch to lock it. They’re not complicated or pretty but they remain functional and practical in a place like Madagascar. Kendal would sell these cabinets, but the catch is that there is no glass, or the glass it held in place with duct tape. Her marketing strategy is that the lack of glass makes it easier to access the products.

Bree: Bree is a PhD candidate from Yale University who is currently mastering the Malagasy language in preparation to study exhumation ceremonies in rural Madagascar. She would sell avocados that look great on the outside but are gross on the inside (something which is not uncommon in Madagascar). It may seem like a bad deal, but her marketing strategy is that you just need to cut off the top of the avocado and squeeze it out like premade guacamole. It’s such a disgusting concept, but hey, sometimes it works in places like these.

Now for yours truly. Unlike my friends and colleagues, I don’t really sell anything as much as I provide a service. While on vacation, we stopped at a waterfall where there was a sign that said, “danger de mort,” which means danger of death. In French, you would pronounce it, “dange-ae duh mor”. Drew, making a joke, pronounced it in the most American accent possible, “Dayn-ger dee mort.” To which I responded, “Who the f* is Mort?” We had a good laugh.

Anyways, that was the birth of my vazaha-run tourist company titled “Tours de Mort”, pronounced with an American accent and pronunciation (tours dee mort). The translation is tours of death. But don’t let that frighten you. I would provide cheap tours for vazaha led by yours truly. There is only one tour circuit. However, you can choose from a variety of personality types ranging from apathetic tour guide to unnecessarily aggressive or overly passive aggressive tour guide. The marketing strategy is that since I’m a vazaha, I already know everything you want to see because I was once just as innocent and ignorant about Madagascar as you. The catch is that I give you the most useless information, and not always in English. For example: “Misy olona eto Madagasikara.” There are people here in Madagascar. . . Moving on. “Mihinana ny malagasy.” Malagasy people eat. . . Moving on. “Afaka mividy zavatra eto Madagasikara ianao.” You can buy things here in Madagascar. . . Moving on. “Eto ny ala.” Here is a forest. . . Moving on. You get the picture.

But that’s about it. We entertain ourselves the best we can, and there are plenty of cultural jokes that make perfect sense to us now that we’ve been here for a while. In fact, I follow a Malagasy meme page on Instagram that has me cracking up all the time. My favorite running joke they have is how they satirically praise how great the main electric company is. You know, the power company that has been cutting some neighborhood’s power for 6 to 9 hours in the evening when everyone needs to cook or needs light to see. That power company. But this is just one activity we’ve done out the blue that has not only kept us thoroughly entertained, but also builds a little bit of a community as it allows us to be creative and joke with one another. As always, know that you are in my prayers each morning. All I ask is that you do the same for me.

May God be praised.