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Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts

Madaworks Update: A Christmas Story from Tana

It's time for an update on my campaign to send two Malagasy girls to high school! For those of you just joining this story, check out:


I am continually amazed by the moments this project of mine has produced. Here's a Christmas story for you.

I was sitting on the floor of the Madagascar Underground Hostel in Antananarivo on Christmas Eve Eve (the day before the day before Christmas), scribbling thank-you notes on kids' drawings from the rainforest. I was rather conspicuous: in my pajamas because I was just getting over a nasty illness (have you ever had a fever that made your hands and feet go numb? I don't recommend it), surrounded by stacks of papers and stamps and ibuprofen, muttering addresses under my breath.

My fever-survival supplies: iPhone charger, electrolytes, antibiotics, suspiciously-pink Malagasy ibuprofen, two bottles of water, and the piece of plain toast I nibbled for a day.

Naturally, the other guests asked what I was up to. When I told them, one guest asked me to show him the Madaworks website, and I watched as he donated $600 on the spot. WOW. Another guest told me she couldn't donate online because she's Iranian and there's some weird embargo stuff... so she asked if she could just hand me some cash instead. (She didn't end up donating, but still, it's the thought that counts!) I couldn't believe the trust from these strangers, but after travelling in Madagascar, they were eager for a chance to help address this most obvious problem, the lack of education for young women.

Here's a breakdown by the numbers:

  • total donations so far: 30
  • from people I've never met: 7
  • from people I met playing frisbee: 7
  • from people I'm related to: 4
  • via PayPal: 6
  • via Venmo: 11
  • directly to Madaworks: 13
  • number of people who downloaded an app just to be able to donate: 1 (that I know of)
  • total money raised so far: $3,280
  • our goal: $3,600
  • percentage of goal raised so far: 91%

Because a lot of these donations flowed in around the holidays, I'll end with a story of my Christmas in Madagascar. I didn't have any family or old friends, but I was lucky to have the company of two new friends, Haja and Mahery. They came over to my hostel and helped me cook a Christmas Brunch that would've made the Lester Finleys proud.

It started on Christmas Eve. I spent the morning with Mahery, Haja, Haja's sister, and a trio of adorable nieces and nephews at a holiday gift market selling the incredible silver jewelry that Haja's family has been crafting for generations.

Selling silver is a family affair.

Then I walked to the enormous Antananarivo market, just before it closed, to buy groceries. That was an excellent adventure! I purchased potatoes and onions in the vegetable quarter, then wove through the dry goods stalls, a maze unlike any I've seen. Each stall stocks an unwieldy assortment of products. I managed to find the items on my list, but each from a different stall: ketchup, black tea, butter, a tiny bottle of oil, and dark chocolate. Then I held my nose and headed for the meat market, where I asked for hena kisoa, pork, the closest thing I could find to bacon. It was the end of the day, so I had to buy out the last hunks of meat hanging from the hooks of two different vendors. Mangoes, lychees, and bananas were easy (it's harder to avoid buying fresh fruit on these streets than to just give in and buy it, the vendors are so persistent), but the eggs were nowhere to be found. I asked everyone, "Aiza ny atody azafady?" Please, where are the eggs? Everyone had an answer: down that alley, around that corner, oh sure, eggs! But nobody had the eggs. Finally I found a girl cracking eggs into a cauldron of boiling soup, and I asked where she got her supply. A woman overheard and, eager to make a few cents, offered to find the eggs and bring them to me. Good luck, I thought, but I agreed. Five minutes later, she appeared holding a small plastic bag filled with straw and a dozen perfectly clean brown chicken-eggs. Christmas brunch was on!

The market is a sea of colorful umbrellas taking over the streets and sidewalks for miles of downtown Tana.

Christmas Eve was a breakthrough. If I'm being blunt, this city intimidates me. The traffic is aggressive, the streets take dizzying turns up cliffs, the air smells like diesel exhaust, and when I counted the number of times I was verbally bothered on the sidewalk, it was once every twenty seconds. Children beg for money, gripping your shirt and following you for blocks while whimpering, "Madame, madame." Men say hello in French whether or not you make eye contact. Taxi drivers block your path to ask if you might need a ride. Plus, I seem to get seriously ill whenever I enter this city. So, given all that, I was proud of myself for learning how to navigate the gritty streets confidently and finding a way to enjoy Tana for my last day here.

Mahery shows off our tropical fruit salad of mango, lychee, and tiny banana.

Haja scolded me for buying three normal mangoes and three squishy papaya-mangoes (woops!) but she quickly solved the problem by turning the squishy ones into juice.

Scrambled eggs and salty pork strips.

My babies: vegetarian and decidedly not-vegetarian home fries.

It wouldn't be Christmas without potatoes!

We cooked enough for a dozen people, and we served Christmas brunch to everyone who, for one reason or another, found themselves stuck in a backpackers' hostel on Christmas morning. Our happy family consisted of businessmen and hippie travellers, a young family in the process of moving houses, the cleaning and cooking staff, Haja, Mahery, and me.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone reading this! If you're feeling inspired, perhaps you'd like to donate to my Madaworks campaign and get that final 9% of our goal reached, to send two Malagasy girls to a fully-funded, three-year, high-school education.

Here are three ways to donate:

PayPal: ninafinley176@gmail.com

Venmo: @Nina-Finley

Madaworks website: https://www.madaworks.org/donate/

And hey, let's also take a moment to be grateful for being 91% of the way there. Every supportive thought, message, and dollar has been a gift in this unconventional holiday season.

Now that I'm in Bali (what?! I know, I'm a little behind on the blog posts), writing thank-you notes has a very different vibe. I loved writing postcards from this low table in the back of a Balinese restaurant. Just look at that rice-paddy view, complete with a sitting-cushion and the sweetest ginger-lemon tea I've ever tasted.
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Sleeping Alone in the Amazon

Monday, February 24


This morning was surreal. I wrote this entry in my journal the next morning:

“We arrived on the bus at 4:30am when it was still dark. I think I slept for a little over half the 6-hour drive. Our guide, Fausto, helped us unload our backpacks, rubber boots, water jugs, and boxes of meat, fruits and vegetables. We used our flashlights (which attracted swarms of bugs) to make our way down a boardwalk and wooden staircase to the lake, where a man in a motorized canoe was waiting for us.
The lake was inky black and completely still. Dawn was just beginning to lighten the sky, so we could make out the horizon of rainforest trees on both sides. The light from the bus stop was soon hidden behind the trees, but every few minutes a bright white flash lit up the sky. Distant lightning? When we got near the marshy shore, I saw that the lake was rimmed with glowing bluish-white bubbles. Natural oil? Fausto told us they were bioluminescent water bugs – millions of them! Then, I noticed that the trees held a light show, too. If I unfocused my eyes, I could see dancing white spots blinking on and off in each tall tree bordering the lake. Magical.
Fausto shone his flashlight on a huge caiman in the water right in front us of, but the boat driver didn’t see it. The caiman moved with a sudden splash just as we were almost on top of it. When we pulled up to a small wooden dock, we carried our cargo up the wooden steps and along a narrow, elevated boardwalk. We left the food in the kitchen, used the concrete outhouses with flushing white porcelain toilets, and immediately settled in to our beds in adjoining, wooden-plank, non-screened rooms. I adjusted my mosquito net and set my cell phone alarm to go off in three hours, at 8:45am, for breakfast. I was so tired I fell right to sleep – too tired to be scared for my first night sleeping alone in the Amazon.”

The welcome platform (seen in the daylight).

When I woke for the second time, I was greeted by Fausto’s delicious breakfast of fried eggs, toast, and fresh fruit. Incredible food would be a staple of the days to come.

We donned our uniforms of zip-off hiking pants, long-sleeved technical fabric shirts, and a gallon of bug spray each. I wasn’t about to mess around with malaria mosquitoes. Fausto gave us an hour-long tour of medicinal plants, including several in the family’s own garden.

A transparent butterfly in the wild.

A bat clinging to the trunk between the buttress roots of a huge ficus tree.

"Tallarin falso," false spaghetti. There's one version you can eat like noodles, and another you can use as perfume.

Baby toadstools. 

Sacho manduro, a favorite food of monkeys. 

"Planta de la penicilina," an antibiotic plant.

Papayuelo, a bright orange fruit. 
Atamuyo. Crack open the hard shell to find the soft, flat, thin seeds. You can light these on fire and use them like candles!

A "cien pie," or centipede.

The "vertebrae" of a secropia tree, which grows so quickly it fills its own trunk with water instead of wood.

Now for a little background on the location. Limoncocha, which means “lime lake” in Kichwa, is  an oxbow lake of the Napo River, It’s encompassed within a nature reserve, but one Kichwa family which lived on the lake before the establishment of the park still lives here. The family runs a “resort” for tourists which consists of a wood-plank cabin on stilts, a basic kitchen in the same style, two white porcelain toilets, and two concrete showers. Guides who bring tourists here must provide food, drinking water, and toilet paper. They must also cook. The cost is $8 per person per night.

The family's home, as seen from my identical abode.

Vecino, the starving mama dog.


The dogs finished our leftovers voraciously, then begged for more with the best puppy-dog eyes I've ever seen.

The family's kitchen, where fish from the lake are smoking under a piece of tin.

Chickens like to dust bathe all around the world.

Look, an exotic Gallus gallus appearing from the forest!

As Nadine, Sascha and I hung up our sweaty pants to dry and relaxed at the picnic table, Fausto rushed around the kitchen like a maniac, squeezing fresh juice for our lemonade, stewing chicken in “jungle cilantro” sauce, peeling and boiling potatoes. I peered into the kitchen and asked if I could help.

“Yes!” came the emphatic reply. I chopped carrots, peppers, tomatoes and carrots in my careful, inexperienced way. Fausto didn’t sweat the details – he was happy as long as the vegetables got chopped. I became so inspired by his quick, delicious, filling meals prepared from a few basic, whole ingredients that I decided to help prepare every meal. I hoped to befriend Fausto and learn a few Ecuadorian culinary skills to bring home with me.

After lunch, we headed out on the lake in a narrow, wooden, motorized canoe to fish our dinner: piranhas. We pulled over in the shady shallows and learned the trick: bait the hook with a chunk of raw beef, thrash the rod around a few times in the water to signal a fallen animal (piranhas prey on birds and mammals that fall into the water), and pull up quickly at the slightest tug.

Fausto caught six of our seven piranhas; Sascha caught the seventh. I was content that I had pulled a few fish out of the water on my hook, even though they had dropped back into the water before I could grab them.

The Catch.

The Kitchen.

Dinner was half fish, half bones, but it was muy rico!
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