Heroes
Mike Broadhurst
Yvonne and I have returned to Madagascar after a much-too-long, five-year absence to find a country reeling from the impact of COVID and inflation.
Already a tough place to make ends meet, we see that the price of everything has gone up 60 to 100 percent.
Rice, the most basic staple, has increased 61%. The cost of one egg has gone up 100%.
Jobs? It’s simple. Fewer jobs, translate to more people looking for work. Those who find work are underpaid and undervalued. Complain and you’re fired and replaced immediately.
The World Bank reports that 75.2% of the Malagasy live in poverty. A walk down the streets in Toamasina suggests something even worse.
Children run barefoot in tattered clothes. Teenaged mothers strew the streets begging. The old and crippled lay at the doorsteps of restaurants and grocery stores, emaciated and forgotten.
Again, the World Bank says 70% of Malagasy are malnourished and those in poverty make an average of $1.90 per day.
To put this into perspective, Yvonne and I eat breakfast consisting of 4 eggs and hash browns. The cost? $1.10.
The alternative to begging is thievery. Every Malagasy we know has been robbed of everything at one time or another. Sometimes at knifepoint, others at gunpoint, and always accompanied by an obligatory beating. Murder is not common, but certainly not foreign. All for a phone, a used laptop or small amounts of cash.
Despite all of this, there are the resilient. Blessed with an undefeated determination, an unquenchable optimism, steadfast valor, and a hope that is inspirational.
One dear friend spends two days getting to his teaching post in the bush. The journey includes a one-hour ride in a taxi-brusse, a three-hour trip in a moto-canoe, and an 11-hour walk to reach the school at which he teaches. He breaks up the trip by sleeping in a nameless village upon the way.
He gets to see his wife and family three days a month, using four other days for the round trip. He’s exhausted the first day back at home.
Most Malagasy would shy from this job. Not only is he thankful, but he loves his job. Raised in a remote village in northeast Madagascar, he has always possessed an insatiable appetite for learning. He loves to pass it on.
He makes $159 a month. He sends his two children to private school. His wife adds to the family resources by raising chickens during the big four Malagasy holidays.
To be eligible for a job closer to home, he’ll have to pay his dues for five years in the bush. He’s in the first semester of the third year.
He’s excited when he talks about his students. When he’s home, he’ll go to the school we sponsor that is an hour away. We are told that the four teachers there are inspired and better because of his influence.
He calls Yvonne “Momma Yvonne,” and me “Papa Mike.” We are honored to call him “Son.”
We have many such friends here in Madagascar, similar in their drive and fortitude. There are no obstacles too big, mountains too high nor rivers too wide that will keep them down.
How they rise from the same circumstances that keep others down is beyond comprehension. As an American, I can’t find words to describe.
To Yvonne and me, they are heroes. Heroes to emulate, to honor and to support.