Moramora – Slowly… Slowly

I confess to you, my friends, that I am beginning to run out of things to tell you about. What I mean to say is that what you would find totally strange and bizarre, I no longer find as such. What you would see on the street and say, “What in the heck?” I would pass by and not even bat an eyelash. For example, the other day I saw a funeral. They were carrying out the coffin, and the six men holding it wrapped a rope around the wooden box before trying to lift it up and put it on the top of a taxi-be which is nothing more than a 10–15-person van. That is how they were going to transport the coffin containing the deceased through the city. In short, nothing phases me here anymore which means I will soon subconsciously run out of things to share with you short of going to see new places or special events. But for now, let me tell you about the Malagasy concept of moramora.

Mora is an interesting Malagasy word. It means, easy, cheap, or slow. In Malagasy, you repeat an adjective to lessen or change its meaning. For example, kely is the word for small or little. However, when you say kelikely it means “ehhh a little bit”. If I say something like, “miteny malagasy kely aho”, I am saying that I speak a little Malagasy. On the other hand, when I say, “mitenty malagasy kelikely aho,” I am saying that I speak Malagasy a little bit. The same goes for other words. Manga is blue, and mangamanga is a little blue or blue-ish. It’s an easy enough linguistic concept to grasp.

And thus, when we say moramora, it means, “slowly… slowly,” usually with a hand gesture of an open hand pushing forward gently and softly, reeling back only to move forward again at an even slower rate. The problem is that moramora isn’t just a phrase. Rather, it’s an entire cultural concept and way of being, one, if I confess, drives me absolutely nuts. Let me explain using a few similar concepts you may already be familiar with; essentially, “island time” and “Latina time” or “Latino time” (honestly, I don’t know if time is feminine or masculine in Spanish, but it’s masculine in French and feminine in German, so in my brain it could go either way).

If you’re not already familiar with these concepts, let me be the first to introduce you to the infuriating atrocities they are. If you have ever been on an island where there is a permeant population or distinct culture, you know about island time. It’s the idea that there’s no rush, there’s no worries, there’s nothing forcing you to do anything at any particular time. There is no sense of urgency. No need to keep track of time. It’s all relative anyways. You’re not going anywhere, you’re on an island!

Latina time is a similar concept and is pretty uniform throughout all of South and Central America. It’s the idea that time doesn’t really matter. You invite a friend to hang out and set a time to meet at 10am. Your friend shows up at 11, 11:30, maybe noon, if they show up at all. If an event is scheduled for 1pm, you’re lucky if it starts at 2pm. There is also never a time when an event ends. You just stay until things die out. But it’s also rude if you leave early. At the same time, it’s not rude if you just don’t show up like you said you would.

In the United States, we would describe a person who says they’re coming but doesn’t as a “flake”. In our culture, being a flake is always a negative description. The person is considered rude, unreliable, and inconsiderate of other people’s time. Why? Because in our culture, time is a valuable commodity and resource. We only have so much time in a day and in a lifetime. Thus, we have to be efficient and considerate with our time. When we make someone else wait, we are wasting their time, or, essentially, their valuable commodity and resource.

That paragraph, if you’re an American, makes 100% absolute sense and requires no explanation or justification. It’s common sense. Or, let me describe it to you with a joke.

There are two young fish swimming along and talking about everything a fish does. An old, wise, philosopher fish passes by in the other direction and says to the two young fish, “the water is lovely today, boys, isn’t it?” Shortly afterwards, one of the young fish stops, turns to the other, and says, “What the f*** is water?”

The joke is that the water permeates so thoroughly in the fish’s life, that it is impossible to perceive unless someone tells us about it. The same can be said with some cultural aspects, such as how we view time. Here in Madagascar, everything that I just described to you and makes perfect sense is an entirely foreign concept.

Moramora is virtually the offspring of island time and Latina time with 10 years of steroids in its system. The concept of time on this island is non-existent. Everything I said about island time and Latina time is true of moramora and to the n’th degree. It’s the way things are here. If you ask for how long something takes, the person will tell you one thing, and you usually have to add at least another 30min-1hr to whatever they said, if you even manage to get a time out of them. An event starting at 1:30? You’re lucky if it starts at 3.

For example, I went to give a presentation that was scheduled from 9am-11am. So, I prepared 2 hours’ worth of materials including time for questions. Students didn’t start showing up until 9:30, and they didn’t prepare the room until 9:45. If an institution of education in the United States pulled something like that… It just wouldn’t. The idea of that happening is just not fathomable in America. In Madagascar? I was lucky students showed up at all. If I, as a guest who was made to wait an extra hour, were to say anything about it or ask that something be sped up, I would be perceived as pushy, rude, and unnecessarily in a rush.

The crazy part about all of this is that it’s universal throughout the entire culture. Or in other words, the concept of moramora to the Malagasy is like water to fish. Let me give you another example. The word for “late” in Malagasy is “tara”, and it comes from the French word “tard”.

Let me spell out the implication of this fact for you. The Malagasy LITERALLY DIDN’T HAVE A WORD FOR LATE UNTIL COLONIZATION. Again, THE CONCEPT OF BEING “LATE” DID NOT EXIST IN THE MALAGASY LEXICON UNTIL AFTER THEY WERE COLONIZED BY A FOREIGN POWER. The French LITERALLY introduced the concept of being late. Let that sink in for a bit.

If you think I’m ranting, I am. Of all the cultural differences I have had to adjust to, moramora is by far the most frustrating, other than some social etiquette standards, particularly concerning social media and privacy. Sometimes it’s entertaining. Other times, I want to rip my hair out, and if you haven’t seen me in a while, my hair is long enough to rip out, so I need to be careful.

It can be entertaining when I work with other English teachers. Many of the good English teachers know that Americans have an ingrained sense of being on time and being efficient with our time. Therefore, when I work with some English teachers who are aware of this, they’re overly conscious about time. Sometimes they stress about it because it’s a new concept and they don’t want to upset me. Malagasy people try to be very considerate, in their own way. And I, being the assertive, aggressive New Englander I am, am totally okay with that. I hold them to that standard and, for lack of better terminology, don’t give a s*** if they’re stressing. I don’t, ironically, have time for moramora.

So let me give you an example. I did a two-day workshop on pronunciation and student-center activities with about 40 teachers. The teacher I work with is awesome. She’s on her A-game all the time with organization. There are some teachers who reach out to me to see if I can be a guest teacher for a session or a guest speaker. Trying to get details is like pulling teeth. Time? Place? Facilities? Day? Number of participants? Level of English? Topic? You know, the bare minimum details I would need as a guest teacher or speaker. And when I ask for these details, again, I’m perceived as pushy, aggressive, and uptight. Anyways, this teacher is absolutely stellar. She has all those details upfront and ready to go without me having to ask anything. But I did tell her, “We’re scheduled for 8-11 both days. I’ll be there at 7:40 to prepare the board and whatever. But the teachers need to know that I will start at 8 and end at 11. I won’t wait, so they need to be there 5-10min early.” I don’t know what she told them, but she somehow managed to get all the teachers there on time and even early. I was stunned and so immensely grateful.

Anyways, moramora drives me insane. There is a balance about how we perceive and value time. There are, like all things, extremes on both ends with a mean, or a balance, in the middle (thank you Aristotle). There is an extreme view of time and efficiency in the American business world where if you’re not on time, you can be fired (another reality that Malagasy can’t believe is true). On the other hand, there is the extreme view of moramora where there is absolutely no sense of urgency for anything where you can just not show up and that’s considered normal (a reality Americans can’t believe is true). The former can lead to stress and anxiety whereas the latter leads to, well, nothing getting done. As for me, I prefer the balance, valuing time as a commodity and resource because it is limited, but also accepting the present moment and enjoying it. In general, however, these are the true cultural differences that we struggle to understand because, at the most base metaphysical and philosophical levels, there is a completely different perception of something we see as so basic, like time. They are our water and we are the fish. In America, time is a commodity and a resource. In Madagascar, time is an illusion and not as valuable as the people you’re waiting for.

Mind you, there are practical reasons why time is viewed as such. Life is filled with uncertainties, and Malagasy take that to the extreme such that they don’t prepare for anything because there’s no way of telling what will happen. Americans like to prepare for uncertainty. Malagasy just accept it as it comes because excessive preparation is wasteful. But as an American who balances between setting a schedule and being flexible when all hell breaks loose and everything falls apart, living in either extreme can be a nightmare. So next time you’re late for something and feel the urge to notify the person waiting for you (again, completely foreign concept here), don’t. Just tell them, “Ehhh moramora, am I right?”

Wrong. You are very wrong. Never do that. Don’t buy into that at all. You’ll be fired and lose friends. Let the person know you’ll be late.

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.