I'm working on a post about one of the most out-of-the-ordinary circumstances in which I've found myself, but I'm not done with it yet and in the meantime I'm feeling the need to let some thoughts out.
Right now we're in the middle of the rainy season up here on the plateau of Madagascar. I knew that would be the case before we got here, but honestly I had no idea what that meant, this being my first rainy season and all. Would it rain all day, everyday for months on end? Would there be torrential downpours or refreshing showers or light sprinkles? Every morning? Every afternoon? I didn't know. What has happened is a little bit of everything. The rains introduced themselves with clockwork consistency as they made a short visit every afternoon. Most recently, as in the past few days, the clouds have rolled in earlier in the day and decided to hover for several hours, leaving us with the sloppy, red gift of mud.
This has proven to be an appropriate parallel for my time here in Mada so far. For the most part, the days here are good. Language school is going well, we're pretty well settled in to our new home, we have American friends here and we're building relationships with Malagasy people. But still, at any given moment, something might happen that turns my thoughts toward home, toward America. It might be the failure to communicate well with someone, or the stress that comes with dodging the thousands in the streets, even something miniscule like the different taste of spaghetti. Sometimes I miss things I didn't even like in America, like cold weather. (Strange, huh?) Whatever the reason, my homesickness has been as regular as the rains.
I know with time this won't be as big of an issue, but in the meantime I must fight to stay focused on the mission at hand. The Antankarana of northern Mada are in need of the Gospel, so we have been sent from our home in order to preach so that they might hear and believe.
