Antananarivo, Madagascar

Greetings from Madagascar. I'm at a clunky, old computer, which, for some reason will not allow me to post photos, so I'll have to ask you to use your imagination...

We flew through Johannesburg, where, for the first time in 16 years, it snowed. It was shocking to wake up and see a thin veil of white powder covering everything in sight...

From Joburg, we flew into Antananarivo, the capital of Madagascar. We're staying with my friend Luc while we're here, and his driver, Jean-Baptiste, came to the airport to gather us and our luggage.

Madagascar is a surprising country, in so many ways. First, the people here don't consider themselves part of Africa, or African in any way - and seeing this place, it makes perfect sense. It's an island nation, with its own culture, traditions and ancestry, which is very disconnected to the continent just to the west. So much of Madagascar is simply Malagasy - the closest comparison would be to Indonesia, both literally and figuratively. The Malagasy people are direct descendants from Indonesia and Malaysia, and look so, though their skin is much darker. The city of Antananarivo (called "Tana") is among the least developed I've ever seen. It looks like a Crusader village from the middle ages, with handfuls of living quarters slapped on the sides here and there, as families grow, business expands, creating a patchwork of ramshackle huts, stone quarters and shacks sliding up and down the hills that make this colorful, loud, packed city.

Most of the streets are dirt, and most of the people are barefoot, wearing tattered clothes, carrying baskets of live chickens, or piles of food on their head. Families here live on less than a dollar a day.

The people speak French, and I must say, they speak French beautifully - with a perfect Parisian accent.

Luc has a very special and unusual position here, working on a team of three people, serving as the leadership advisors to the President of Madagascar. The other two are Australian (one being Dean Williams, my professor from graduate school), and all are fervently, delicately and passionately working day and night to help this eager President increase the leadership capacity of his country, which is just starting to tiptoe its way toward the global arena. Not only do they work directly with the President, but also with the full administration, including an upcoming training for 17,500 village chiefs from all around the island.

He is also in an interesting position, which requires acute diplomacy, as he is a frenchman, working in a country colonialized by France. He equates his position to an Israeli consulting to the leaders of Palestine in 20 years.

Last night he took us into the grounds of the Presidential Palace, where we stepped over sleeping guards, so he could show us his office...

Luc is renting a house (if you can call it that - it's more of a villa) from a Kenyan woman who works for UNICEF, who is at home in Nairobi. He has two full-time guards, a driver and a maid, who maintain the house and property. These are very common conditions for an expat working for the UN or similar organization, as they are paid their national salary, which obviously, goes a very long way here. Female workers are required to have three guards, whereas men are required to have only two.

The homes here, as in South Africa, have no central heat, so they are warmed by wood-burning fireplaces - a welcomed amenity, as the winter (as it is now) is cool and misty. The smell is so inviting - it reminds of me of my childhood.

Last night, Luc drove us through the winding backalley-streets of Tana, to his favorite restaurant, where we sat among expat development workers, eating foie gras, french bread, and zebu (buffalo meat), washing it all down with red wine and coffee.

The contrast, obviously, between the lives of the local people and the expats working here, is quite dramatic. I felt much more uncomfortable with this contrast, and the luxuries afforded by international workers, when I was working in Aceh and Jakarta, Indonesia in 2005 during the tsunami reconstruction. This was my first experience in international development, and I wasn't prepared for the discrepancy between expat and local. I don't know what to think, and I don't know what to say about it, except that the work is hard, the conditions are rough, and perhaps a glass of wine and a hot shower rejuvenates one for the next day (the counter-arguments are aplenty, I know that... so I will just leave it at that).

Today, we wandered through the city streets, through alleyways, up stairs, down hills, rounding steep corners where we would find crowds of children, or old men playing board games, or an old, decrepit palace, falling into ruin. Maps are useless, streets are unmarked, which just leaves you with your feet and a sense of adventure.

Tomorrow I'm spending the day with the Country Office of the UN World Food Program, where I will meet with the Country Director and Assistant Country Director, learn about their programs in Madagascar and visit a school-feeding operation in Tana. I've brought briefing materials from my office in Washington DC, which I will read as homework tonight, preparing me for the day tomorrow.

And fortunately, we have convinced Luc to come to coast of Madagascar this weekend, where we will visit the Parc National d'Andasibe-Mantadia, and see the indigenous marvels of this country - the indiri (the largest lemur found in Madagascar, described as looking like a four-year old child in a panda suit), the giant jumping rat, and thousands of birds and plants, which are found only on this island.

I love this country so far. I'm intrigued, curious, and eager to see what the next few days hold for us...