Mitsangatsangana

So far, my favorite malagasy word is mitsangatsangana. It embodies many concepts of things I like to do: go for a walk, a hike, or maybe even a picnic. Each day, as I go to work, I walk across town. As I go, fellow teachers, students, and friends alike ask if I will take a (bajaj) taxi. They are always surprised when I smile and say no.

As I travel, the bajajs honk and slow down, expecting me to wave for a ride. People on the street ask, “mitsangatsangana ve anao?” and I reply “eka, mandeha tomboka izaho” (yes, I go by foot) with pride.

Going by foot helps me to experience life: the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. It allows me to encounter the realities of the people I pass by. I also learn the many different impressions and expectations they have of me. No matter who approaches me, I make an honest effort to smile and speak a little bit of Malagasy.

In every speech someone delivers to convince me to take a taxi, they always ask, “Don’t you get tired?”. In their mind, its always too hot, rainy or windy for me to walk today… Their weather analyses are often right, but this is one simple way I can choose not to be above the reality the whole community is living in. My students walk, my neighbors walk, my churchmates walk, and I will walk also.

My feet are callused, blistered, and eternally dirty no matter how hard I scrub them. They have hosted several parasy (fleas) that my sister helps dig out of my skin with a sewing needle, leaving holes where the eggs were laid. They are burnt from the sun and from the oil I splashed making last nights dinner.

Yet they are soft compared to the feet of the people around me. Most feet are tough with thick soles from a lifetime of walking through the streets. Many feet are bare as they traverse the crooked cobblestones, blazing pavement and baking sand. Some feet are curled or twisted from an injury that never quite healed as the owner continued working to meet their immediate needs. Instead of being cushioned by American hiking sandals, their feet have experienced life and adapted accordingly.

My feet will never look quite the same as those around me, but they can trod the same paths and continue to show up day after day. They can take me to my favorite seller, the peanut lady who calls me bellasoa, or weave through the piles of everything from leafy greens to underwear flooding the sidewalk of the market. They can turn me down new paths as I use the mountain and the sea as a compass. They carry me on my way as I stroll with friends, strangers, or alone. When I choose to walk, I choose to embrace the unexpected and the fullness of life it brings.