I hate it here...but not like I hate mayo

The “H” Word

Hate can be such a hurtful word… It can mean different things for different people… and…I’ve found out…different meanings when living in different places. Some can use the word super casually (ex: “I hate when he leaves the toilet seat up!”) or it can have serious implications (Ex: Hate crimes). Some can be offended by it, while some use it every day.

So why am I bringing this up?

I hate it here. You read right. I have been very apprehensive to admit this publically. But I just did. I’ve thought of using words like frustrated or resentful – but they just aren’t strong enough to describe what I’m feeling towards this place.

But hold on a second – I just have to say - I truly believe that this is the opportunity of a lifetime. And that I am extremely fortunate that all my hard work as paid off (it doesn’t always for everyone) and that the advantages of this situation far outweigh the negatives. I’m worried that if I say I hate it here – that I will seem ungrateful or ignorant – which is not the case. I’m also don’t want my family and friends will be too worried about me. I know that I would be worried about them if they said they hated where they lived!

Defined:
Before moving here what did hate mean to me? It meant to loathe something so much to the point of being sick. That you would take desperate actions to rid whatever the hated thing or person or object from your life.

Here’s a dumb, but simple example:

Le Mayonnaise
I HATE mayonnaise. Everyone here freaking goes nuts for mayo. I can’t stand it.
Fries are often a side for meals here. The fries seem to always come out of the kitchen with a blob of ketchup and a blob of mayo ON the plate. BARF. I want to hurl. I realize that I’m 29 years old, but I go so far as to make a little fort with about six fries – all around the mayo - so that anything else on my plate has zero chance to come into contact with this disgusting mayo. Mayo would make me sick. It totally disgusts me and that I would care less if it disappeared from the world. And I will take desperate actions to eliminate this hated substance from my plate. (It’s a very strong feeling I have towards mayo)

Now – to apply that kind of meaning to sometimes hating Madagascar? Well….I was so hesitant to admit this out loud. And I wasn’t 100% sure if I was correctly using the word. So I did what I do whenever I don’t know the definition of a word…and I looked it up in the dictionary. According to Merriam Webster, hate can be defined as: Intense hostility and aversion usually deriving from fear, anger, or sense of injury.

Interesting… When I think about the times that I’m ready to spurt out the “h” word about Madagascar, those three feelings seem to be pretty prominent.

And here’s why….

FEAR
The “NO FEAR” slogan of the 90s was obviously not developed in Africa.

To come into this country fearless – especially for the first time – is just totally unheard of. And would be stupid. And dangerous, as you can’t just do everything that you want to do here that you could do in Canada without thinking twice. I’ll use the drive home from a night out from a nice night out at a restaurant as an example. We’ll be driving down a road on our way back to camp after a nice meal, and my normally chatty driver – who is calm and rarely frazzled – will stop talking, roll up the windows, lock his doors, and act a bit jumpy. He doesn’t have to say much else. Another example is where I live. The perimeter of the compound is circled with in fence that’s maybe 6 feet tall and then another 3 feet of barbed wire on top of that. The perimeter is patrolled and there are guards on duty 24 hours a day every…maybe two or three hundred feet. The entry/exit of the camp has a minimum of 2 guards at all times.

So…fear? Yah, I have the feeling of fear often. For the most part – it comes from not knowing what’s on the other side or what I can trust. Everything is new here – nothing is known – and precautionary measures must be taken for just about everything. Which in itself creates a sense of fear, no doubt.

So when I’m scared I do one of two things:

1. A mini analysis: How can I get out of this situation if I need to? What do I think is the worst thing that can happen? Who can I call if I need help? What is there really to be scared of?

2. And the second thing I do is remember this quote I heard not too long ago: Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear.

With those two things, I have gone to new places, tried new things – been scared shitless more often than not at first – but also been able to remember that: a) I’ll be okay and b) The experience that I’m about do have…is…probably… worth the temporary fear that I’ll feel at first.
Anyway, on to the next feeling:

ANGER
Um…. Ya… I don’t know who has been “lucky” enough to get contact from me the last few days…but… my responses aren’t always…um…un-angry…

Why am I angry? I’m going to list the first ten things that come to mind and stop there.

What makes me angry in Madagascar:
- Fighting so hard every day just to arrange a ride to work and back
- Fighting for things that the Project had promised me (but weren’t directly included in my contract - yes I know, I should have put them in my contract).
- Having a neighbor (who has nothing but the best of intentions) that talks so, so, so, so, so much
- Always attracting so much attention anywhere and everywhere I go. If I leave my office to use the toilet – I’m watched. If I go the camp restaurant – I’m watched.
- THE SMELL. And NOT just from the French lady. It’s the washroom, the office, the streets, my apartment, some of the people… it makes me crazy sometimes. I truly think I am going to come back smelling this way.
- My bodily functions – I’ll leave it at that but you’ve all heard the stories that come along with adjusting to living here
- The fun that I miss back home. Yes, I know, I’m having a different kind of fun, but I get mad sometimes when I hear about how much fun something was and knowing that I can’t participate (but I still want to hear about them, please!! They also help keep me sane!)
- My smelly shoes. I brought one pair of sport sandals and they got wet and dry and wet and dry and they have this foam in them and they smell awful. Like you can smell me coming a mile away. Vinegar, baking soda, body wash, laundry service, nothing works.
- Skype and my cell phone. After a bad day – its brutal to never know if I’ll be able to actually speak with someone back home
- Never knowing which way is up, down, east, west, south, north. Never knowing how to get home or where anything is.

Okay – so that was a list of just 10 things that popped into my mind. Can you imagine if I kept on going? But what’s the point!?!?!? I can wish and wish…but I can’t change these things! So I vent when I need to – I make it quick – and just move on…for a few days, anyway. I heard a stupid saying once, and it went something like:

Spit in one hand and wish in the other. See which one gets full first.

I’ve probably butchered it and it probably is supposed to rhyme or something – but you get the intent. Wishing for something to change is as pointless as spitting in your hand… it doesn’t get you anywhere and you're worse off than when you started (unless you wished for a handful of spit)

So yes, sometimes these things make me very, very angry. Saying that these things frustrate me doesn’t cut it. So while I’m going for a run, or a walk, or doing whatever I do after the end of the day – I sometimes get angry. I’ve had moments where I’ve been by myself running, getting pissed off at all the screwed up events of the day, and then, I just let it go.

It’s really hard for me to admit that something angers me. For the majority of my life, I’ve thought that anger was a horrible and very bad feeling. I’m slowly starting to realize that it’s a perfectly natural and normal feeling – there isn’t anything bad or wrong with feeling this way. And if its handled in a healthy way – it’s ok! It’s okay to be angry… just don’t let it ruin your day (…or worse…your life).

Next!

SENSE OF INJURY
Well, I’m not physically injured…but there is a valid comparison to be made. After an injury, generally people feel somewhat traumatized. Think back if you were ever in a car accident – even a minor one. You’re temporarily shaken up and think twice every time you get into a car for the next few days or even longer.

I do kind of have that…feeling like something traumatic happened… I haven’t been hurt but it’s a similar sense of stress. I think the word “traumatic” may be a bit overdramatic..but it is a good descriptive.

Hate Redefined
So – like everything in life in my life lately, I’m changing the old definition of the word hate and adapting it to the new Madagascar way of life. I REALLY hate mayonnaise – but I only “Madagascar hate” Madagascar. And…that’s only sometimes.


I wanted to talk about this “hating Madagascar” thing – not only for me, but for those that I call after a bad day and say, “I HATE Madagascar!!
Please know I don’t mean it in the “pre-Madagascar” definition – I don’t actually want to rid my life of it and I don’t loathe it so much that it makes me sick (except..well, it HAS made me sick… but that’s a topic for another day)! Now you’ll know what I mean when I say it. I’ve had some great times here, and I know I’ll have more – but sometimes – well, I just hate it here. And after…three days of analysis…I’m fine with that.

:)