Malagasy Families

I recently ranted to you about the continuous tomfoolery of providing prices in francs (a non-existent and imaginary currency) rather than ariary (the real and actual currency used in Madagascar). Upon further reflection, I thought I should balance out my few final blogs with one about something I love about Madagascar which is different than in the United States.

It is an undeniable fact that Malagasy kids are THE cutest children on earth. That’s not my opinion. It is a scientifically and objectively verifiable truth that Malagasy kids in comparison to all other children on the planet that belong to the human race are the absolute cutest. Every Monday this past semester, I would teach in the afternoon at one of my high schools. I leave my house around lunch time and make my way down the very narrow footpath that leads to the bottom of my hill. It’s my favorite day of teaching because I only have two classes in the afternoon, I don’t have to leave the house at 6am, and, most importantly, I get to see all the little preschoolers having lunch with their parents as I pass by on my way to school. It’s adorable. They all have these little blue and pink uniforms. They’re running around and laughing, having little Malagasy conversations with one another. And since they’re so tiny, their backpacks are sometimes bigger than they are, the sizable disproportion, of which, adds to the level of cuteness.

Indeed, one of the first thing many foreigners notice, and I certainly noticed it too, when they arrive to Madagascar is just how many kids there are. Kids are everywhere. And I mean everywhere. They are in all places at all times in every way you can think of. Babies tied onto the backs of their mothers. Kids walking to school with their siblings. Children playing in the streets without a parent in sight. My Malagasy friends who have visited the United States and have returned always note, “I just didn’t see any kids in America. Are there even children?”

It’s one of those cultural things I love about Madagascar and Malagasy; their strong attachments and high valuation of the family, and children specifically.

Families are big in Madagascar, usually 3-8 kids. They all live in the same house even long after the children come to working age and adulthood. In fact, it’s a pretty big deal if one of the adult children of the household wants to, and then actually proceeds to, move out and live on their own. It’s a weird concept to us Americans who often talk about emptying the nest, kicking the kids out of the house, or going out on your own. It’s a manifestation of our extreme desire for self-reliance and independence, although it is obviously different from family to family.

A lot of my American friends will think it absolutely crazy that Malagasy parents would let their 5–7-year-olds out and about in the street to play without any supervision. “What if something happens to them? What if they get hurt? What if they’re kidnapped?”

Although the first two are quite possible, and the kids are usually within range of at least someone, the latter is quite unthinkable. No one in Madagascar would ever think of harming or violating a child. In fact, it is the opposite. The reason why parents don’t worry about their kids on the street is that they know strangers would never hurt them and that, if anything, they would help the children if there was ever a problem. This is a stark contrast to the environment in the United States where there are significantly less children out in the streets and who are actually under threat of being kidnapped or harmed by an adult. It is the sad and tragic reality of the United States which, I would argue, suffers from such a crisis of spiritual deprivation that has led us to value children less and less and not to respect their innocence.

To put things in perspective, the city of Tana is pretty dangerous after the sun goes down. The lack of effective policing, the absence of street lights, and the strong underground market for drugs and petty crime makes going out after dark an unsafe affair. As you can imagine, I rarely go out at night unless I have a taxi that I trust and set up ahead of time. Otherwise, you will never catch me out after dark, even in my own neighborhood where I’m completely safe during the day. On several occasions, however, I have returned to my house around 7 or 7:30pm, well after the sun has set. The only reason I feel safe during this time is because there are still children playing in the streets. And when I say children, I mean gangs of 3-10-year-olds. They’re running around and building things, tossing balls to each other, or playing with rocks. This is telltale sign that things are safe, for the time being. Why? Because only the most despicable human beings on the planet would commit a crime in front of a child. It’s just not right. Stealing from someone at night is fair game, more or less. But to do so in front of an innocent child? Malagasy would never accept that as a collective.

It’s one of those things that I just love about Madagascar. Children are precious here. They’re treated differently. People love their children without pretending that children are perfect or that they themselves are fully grown adults. I get winds of news from the United States sometimes, and when I hear about debates over schools and child-autonomy, I sometimes share it with my Malagasy friends. “What do you mean children call the shots? What do you mean parents practically serve their children like little dictators? That’s insane!”

It is pretty insane. I was on vacation in the boonies of Madagascar in April, and I saw a couple with a child, and oh man, that kid has his parents by the balls. When that kid’s tablet ran out of power, a look of absolute panic and horror flushed the parents’ faces. A “Oh sh*t” moment. They hurriedly rushed to find any kind of technology to occupy their child, who was, I would argue, sufficiently old enough to occupy himself if he had been taught properly. The kid’s anger and frustration could be stirred within seconds of the kid not getting what he wanted. And I’ve seen many similar situations in the United States. On the other hand, something like that would never happen to a Malagasy child, well, not an average one at least, maybe to a rich one. Part of it is the different ways Malagasy parents treat their children. They strike a balance between treating them like helpless children (which is what they are) and responsible adults in charge of themselves (which they will hopefully be one day). It’s all very contrasted to the way parents worship and obey their children like little gods in the United Sates. Mind you, I’m no parent. But I work with kids of all ages, and believe me you, kids are evil little F*ers. Without being raised or trained by parents to be well behaved and empathetic, children are naturally selfish and destructive. St. Augustine talks about how original sin is in all of us, and that means kids, too. Kids aren’t adults. We know that the male brain doesn’t fully mature until 26 years (which means I’m done maturing now). Yet we pretend like kids know themselves and make their own decisions. Those are contradictory positions.

And Malagasy parenting isn’t perfect. Their strong stance on respect and obeying elders makes kids rebellious in their late teens and early twenties, not unlike man conservative families in the United States. In contrast, the more progressive and rich Malagasy parents raise their children like little kings and queens which makes them blind to many of the things of daily life in Madagascar for the average person. A sheltered and naïve life which is common in progressive families in the United States, especially of those who come from a privileged status. That is, they will lambast privilege while still benefiting from their own, something which I notice about many Americans who live here in Madagascar or in other African countries.

Regardless, children in Madagascar are precious and innocent. There is an inherent value in innocence, which is why so many people fight to preserve it in young people. The world is a harsh and unforgiving place. But the innocence of children properly educated on how to love and share bears with it a purified heart that I think we can all hope to imitate more closely. Christ told us after all that we must be like children to enter the kingdom of God. That is, we must be pure of heart, love unconditionally, trust fully in our Father, and suspect no evil of others. Those are high and often unrealistic standards. Nonetheless, they’re also the standard we have been called to strive for.

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.