Before I begin attempting to describe my life for the past 7 weeks, let me first apologize for the obvious lack of communication with the outside world- internet access in Madagascar was scarce, to say the least. I was under the impression going into my Blue Ventures expedition that the internet was going to be accessed easier than it was in Kenya, but I was greatly mistaken. Upon my arrival in Madagascar, after the whirlwind of overwhelming travel stress that came with the transition between countries, it became utterly apparent that Madagascar is one of the least developed countries in the world, with arguably the worst economy. The three day overland tour allowed me to experience many of the biological wonders of this biodiversity hotspot, but even the ring-tailed lemurs can't distract you completely from the extreme poverty, remoteness, and untouched feeling of the people and culture.
As you can probably imagine, it's extremely difficult to leave somewhere you've become so comfortable and enter one where you feel quite the opposite. Fortunately I quickly became close with the 9 other individuals in my expedition group during our endless drives on winding, bumpy roads, and I began to remember how great it is to have someone to really talk to. The last leg of the drive to the Blue Ventures base was 7 hours, primarily on a sand road that I don't think has been maintained for at least a century. We arrived, poured out of the 4x4, and made a beeline to the warm water of the Mozambique channel. The volunteer huts are on the edge of a small cliff that leads down to Half Moon Beach, and the Blue Ventures office, staff huts, kitchen, and dive building are all spread out over the small peninsula that is the western most point of Madagascar. Over the first couple days were were filled up to our eyes with information- rules, protocol, names, places, and more, none of which any of us obtained all of. Looking back now it seems so odd that I felt uncomfortable and unsure of all the staff and the surroundings of the BV base, because it so quickly became home. It's incredible how adaptable humans are, and how easy it is to feel at home... even in a small wooden hut with a salty shower in remote, isolated, southwestern Madagascar.
I think the best way for me to sum up my experiences is to run through a typical day, because 7 weeks of stories is far too much for one post...
Every morning I wake up with the sun peaking through the eastern-facing window of my hut around 6:30 or 7. Usually I roll out of bed and walk outside, sit in my hammock, and enjoy the tropical paradise view I have from the porch. Eight o'clock means breakfast. The 10 volunteers make our way down to the other end of base to the restaurant, carrying our peanut butter, Nutella, jam, or whatever else we can find to decorate the rather bland breakfast of bread. Straight after eating you walk back to the other end of base again to the building that's known as the Bat Cave, which is the dive equipment/repair headquarters, and kit up for a 9:00 dive. BV has two motor boats, the only two in the entire fishing village of Andavadoaka. (Pirogues, a kind of dug-out canoe sail boat, are the main form of transport for the Vezo people.) The dive site is determined by the dive leader, usually one of the field scientists, and it depends on what data needs to be collected/what sites haven't been surveyed yet. Volunteers either do PITs (point intercept transects), or fish belts. PITs are 10 meter surveys, every 20 centimeters, of the benthic life of the reef at that specific point, and fish belts are 20 meters, continuously, of the species and number of the fish 5 meters above the line, and 2 meters to either side. Keep in mind, however, that these science dives can only happen for volunteers after we've memorized the 30 benthic compositions and 150 species of fish. We have to pass both computer and in-water point-out tests before we're allowed to collect data for Blue Ventures. Diving when you can identify nearly everything that you see makes it so much more fulfilling. I was in love with diving before I came, but when you experience the euphoria of simply breathing underwater and then mix it with the satisfaction of identifying and recording all sorts of different species swimming around you makes it so much more worthwhile. Dives are always 45 minutes and maximum depth is always 18 meters, which is conservative since the reefs are not usually very deep, but the protocol is strict due to the isolation of the site and the nearest recompression chamber is in South Africa. Another dive leaves at 11:00, and it's not unusual to be on both dives, which makes for a very busy morning. By the time the boat returns it's usually a scramble to clean your equipment, rinse off, and race to lunch. I'll admit, I've been to lunch still wearing my wetsuit. After lunch we have a couple of hours off usually, nobody is working or diving, and the place gets pretty quiet. The heat keeps you inside, so it's a good time to write, talk, nap, do laundry, go for a swim, do your knowledge reviews for your rescue diver course, study fish, etc. Around 3 the power comes back on and BV work resumes. The afternoon is when we usually have a lecture from one of the staff about different projects BV is running, or just about Madagascar, the Vezo people, shark fishing, and lots of other really interesting, relevant topics. We also have fish workshops, fish tests, and Malagasy lessons. We've been on a couple of day trips- to one of the Mangrove projects, and the Spider Tortoise monitoring project. Also multiple overnight trips- to a village with sea cucumber farming and Seaweed aquaculture where we did a homestay and stayed up all night "harvesting" sea cucumbers (they're nocturnal) and then cutting them open and squeezing out their guts. Zanga (sea cucumber) are a precious commodity on the Asian market, so for this village, farming them provides an enormous source of income- an alternative to fishing, which is exactly what Blue Ventures is trying to promote, sustainable alternative livelihoods. Blue Ventures has been in Madagascar since 2004, and isn't leaving anytime soon. Working through a "Population Health Environment" approach to conservation is a long term process, and for an uneducated, isolated, remote, and simple village it is hard to understand the direct relationship between those three factors. We also went on a two day diving trip in the permanent reserve where we slept out on Nosy Ve (a small island) on a pirogue sail under the stars. Coming back to the typical day and away from that tangent, in the evenings volunteers have our duties, or chores, which include data entry, taking weather data, cleaning up the "office", or Nosy Cao, as it's called, sweeping the stairs that lead down to the beach (so that nobody falls face first while lugging their heavy dive gear down to the boats), putting away all the dive gear, and changing the water barrels that we use to clean the BCD's, regulators, etc. Dinner is always at 7:30, so if we have free time in the evening sometimes we'll go into town and get snacks, attempt to speak Malagasy, take photos of the small, eager, and very photogenic Vezo children on the beach, or just sit in your hammock or on the sand dunes and watch the sun set. At dinner the expedition manager presents the board for the following day which tells you the dives you're on, and the general schedule for the day. Everyone eats rice, beans, and fish for nearly every meal, and even though I'm the only real vegetarian, many of the meat eaters have told the kitchen they want to be on the veggie list to get a change in their diet. I can't blame them... usually the veggie dish looks more appetizing than fish heads. Our favorite thing to do at dinner is try to identify the fish that everyone is eating. By 8:30 most people are knackered, and I have no trouble falling asleep at this time, although sometimes I'll take one of our beach mattresses up on the dunes, either with another volunteer or alone, and stargaze, for the night sky is almost better than in Kenya.
Occasionally we would do 6:00 a.m. dives, and one of those early mornings stood out to me- As we were motoring away from Half Moon beach, the sun was just beginning to rise behind Andavadoaka, and the full moon was just beginning to set in the opposite direction, a surreal moment. We splashed over the side of the boat into the dark water, and during the 45 minutes we were able to watch the transformation of the ocean from night to day, the visibility gradually increasing as the sun penetrates the depths more directly. My biggest challenge every day in Madagascar is forcing myself to come back up to the surface. Eighteen meters for 45 minutes is never enough; life is good underwater.
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