A Desperate Plea
January 7, 2012
When I got back to site, I came bearing gifts. As is the Malagasy custom: when you go off on vacation, you are supposed to bring back a “voandalana” (gift) for eeeeeeeeeeeeeveryone.
In reality, what happens is I bring back a large quantity of something - in this case I brought back plums & grapes - and when I’m out, I’m out. My villagers always take this phrase - azafady indrindra fa efa lany ny voandalana! - relatively well, so I’ve never felt bad about bringing back a limited quantity of fruit, or whatever.
{Besides, there are over 2,000 people in my village! How in the world would I have managed that one??}
Usually I don’t bring anything back for the kids. I have coloring books and crayons and toys that I let them play with on a daily basis, so I never feel like “child voandalanas” are needed.
This time was different. I’ve had a ton of people include toys for kids in their packages (mainly my mom haha), and I’ve been holding on to them for awhile, so I figured that after this vacation, I’d also give gifts to my favorite kids.
In Anja Park, the kids (18 and under) make up approximately HALF of the population. Needless to say, there are a crap ton of kiddos running around. And if I was being honest, I would say that only about 10-15 are kids that I like and don’t find annoying. The rest are…trying. They try my patience. Let’s leave it at that.
So. The day after I get back to site, I accumulate all of these toys in a “grab bag” of sorts, while setting aside specific gifts for my absolute favorite kids. Whenever a kid drops by my house, I give them a gift - a sheet of stickers or a bracelet or a bouncy ball…one small toy per kid.
By the time 10 AM rolled around, I was having WAVES of kids show up to my door, in the tens and twenties. No. Freaking. Joke.
My gifts are rapidly disappearing. But the steady stream of kids doesn’t let up.
At noon I head out into my garden to talk to my friend (I get the best reception in the garden area). I talk for less than 20 minutes. I head back toward my front door, round the corner onto the patio and see…
NO LESS THAN 50 KIDS SITTING IN FRONT OF MY DOOR. WAITING FOR THEIR GIFTS.
At this point, a mob scene ensues. I make them wait at my front door while I get the bag of goodies, and they start shoving each other. Then they literally scramble over each other to get to the front of the pack to get their gifts before the others.
Kids start crying.
Babies in the arms of their 8-year-old siblings start screaming.
It’s absolute chaos.
I ended up just mildly freaking out & essentially throwing the remaining gifts into the crowd of kids, slamming my door shut, curling up into a ball on my bed and rocking myself back & forth. Okay, not really…but it was really not fun.
Three days later, I still have parents coming to my front door, saying that “their kid didn’t get a gift, where is it?” It’s absurd. And THIS time when I say I’m out, they don’t believe me. They keep asking. I’ve even had a few moms literally get upset at me because their kid didn’t get a tiny bouncy ball.
SO. The point of this blog entry is this: I know that all of you have amazing intentions in sending me stuff for the kids. And I’m incredibly thankful for everything you’ve already sent over. However…please, I’m begging you, stop.
I’m not kidding.
Not only is this creating problems for me with the kids, but it’s making things incredibly awkward and difficult for me with the parents themselves. I still have a crazy backlog of coloring books and crayons, so even those aren’t needed. I also think that should Anja Park get another Peace Corps volunteer in the future, when I’m gone, that the precedent I’m setting with these kids is only going to make life more difficult for him or her.
Consider this a desperate plea for my own sanity. No.More.Toys. Thank you so, so much. I love you all. By no means does this mean that packages from you all aren’t welcome - just replace the spot that would have been taken up by kids toys with, I dunno, some yummy snack for me or something. :)
Until next time!
T
