We have spent much of the last few days sharing our gratitude with each other and for this amazing country and culture that has hosted us over the last six weeks. The following is a collectively written poem by the students of the 2019 Summer Madagascar program:
Thank you, Madagascar:
Thank you for serving just the amount of rice I need, twice.
Thanks for making a lot out of a little and thank you for impractical fruit and all of your laxatives.
Thanks for the sakay that made me cry, made me happy (and made me without an eye for three days.)
Thank for you for the beautiful, curious, quixotic creatures perhaps not tasty enough to be ‘punched out of existence.’
Thank you for the pee pots at night and always asking if I wanted to take a shower. Always!
Thank you for showing me the milky way and thank you for always smiling even when there is nothing to smile about.
Thank you for teaching me that the early bird gets the hot mofo gasy.
Thank you for the beautiful mountains and for your endless landscapes that lie in-between.
Thanks for the sacred omby even when they slow the already slow traffic.
Thanks the for hazy bus rides drowned in Dramamine and the rolling hills of morphing plants.
Thanks for showing me a new world that I didn’t know existed and for teaching me that you can fry bread in three different ways in a single meal.
Thank you for the entertainment on a long bus ride that I didn’t know I needed.
Thanks for all of the small French girls with corn rows.
Thank you for the Dr. in blue jeans and white converse, professional as always.
Thanks for showing that even the cutest dog may have rabies.
Thank you for a consistent 80º and sunny winter days and then raining on the one day we didn’t want it.
Thank you for pushing me to my God awful limits but rewarding me generously each and every time.
Thank you for showing me that French Fries and rice is a combo worth having.
Thanks for forgetting my name but remembering my face and thanks for always saying hello.
Thank you for coco-brushes and polishing your concrete floors until they shine like mirrors.
Thanks for the Rasta-Van and our driver who may or may not have been Pablo Escobar.
Thanks for sweeping up your dirt yards and thanks for making inefficiency work.
Thanks for showing me the difference between having things and happiness.
And thanks for the children of Isalo for holding out their hands and for showing me their kings’ hidden pools.
Thank you friends, old and new, for standing by me through everything and thanks to my our group and all of our quirks whose friendships will last much longer than our friendship bracelets (thanks Colin).
And lastly, to you Madagascar: thank you for teaching, caring, and giving even when you had nothing left to give.