Home again

The remaining two flights are uneventful, thankfully, and it's 2:30 a.m. Tuesday when we land at DFW International Airport. Dr. Strader and I keep each other awake on the drive home back to Abilene, arriving about 5:30 a.m. I spend most of Tuesday sleeping. Upon returning to the office, I am amazed at the number of people who seek me out to say they've enjoyed following the blog, and I hope you have, too. The Madagascar Presidential Scholars Program will be the cover story of the upcoming Fall 2008 issue of ACU Today magazine, so watch for more details, reflections and images from the trip there.

I encourage my fellow travelers – and the new graduates – to write me and share their thoughts about their experience; I'll publish them here in future posts, and share other info and images as time allows. I hope we've made you feel like you were along for the ride.

– Ron Hadfield and Ryan Britt

Lemur of the Day: Tuesday

The doctor is, uh, not in

[Monday] Dr. Jerry Strader, pictured here in happier times, became the third victim of intestinal drama on Sunday afternoon – the day we left Madagascar. He had gone to a nearby church and then to meet with Malagasy Scouting leaders – one of his chief objectives for this trip. A longtime Scouting leader (and former Eagle Scout), he compared notes with his peers until surrendering to the roughest sickness yet experienced by the group. He "reported for duty" when the time came to leave for the airport, but he felt a lot better than he looked, and we gave him a wide berth. He blames his malady on a bacon-wrapped grilled banana from the Commencement reception buffet on Saturday night "that didn't taste right." Imagine that. His trip home will feel especially long.

Lemur of the Day: Monday

And this is also about how close we had to stand next to our hot, sweaty, tired, fellow travelers for three hours in the Paris airport.

De Mess at de Gaulle

[Monday] Upon entering the lower level of the terminal where we we need to secure our boarding passes, we find a large crowd of unhappy people who have been standing for two hours in the non-air-condititioned entryway while French security cleared the terminal because of an unattended piece of luggage. Babies and children are restless and fussy; to take a bathroom break means losing one’s place in the order of those waiting to enter the terminal upstairs. Travelers are packed into a concrete staircase leading to the ticket counters and customs area. No one seems to know what is going on, just that we need to get up the stairs or risk missing our flight at 1:30 p.m. for Boston. We wait shoulder-to-shoulder and nose-to-nape, inching our way up the stairwell as sweaty people atop it either are admitted to the terminal after clearing the imagined security barrier, or simply crowd closer together, leaving faux room below for others. Speculation runs rampant, and a rude police officer occasionally stops by to update the crowd in French (“Not now,” one replies sternly at a request to repeat the news in English) with news that rarely is informative. One agitated European raises his fist in the air and shouts something like “Follow me to Gate 15!” and leads his army of half a dozen up the stairway, even though there is no room for them. Not wanting to start another French Revolution, we squeeze aside to let the insurgents through, hoping they’ll get their just reward somewhere down the tarmac. Ninety minutes into this scene, we deduce from talking others that we need a boarding pass to clear security. So we surrender our hard-earned concrete turf to find someone below who can help, and return to the end of the line/crowd to begin another assault on the stairway. In all, it takes three hours to reach our gate from the time we entered the terminal, where we discover the flight is delayed anyway. The French make lovely fries, cuffs, linens and vanilla ice cream. But they could use some lessons in running an international airport (Boston’s Logan Airport, in contrast, has a customs area that is nearly surgical in its operation and efficiency.) All travelers appreciate the thoroughness of today’s security standards, but a smile and an apology for inconveniences would go a long way in situations such as this one.

The long ride home

[Sunday] We spend the afternoon and early evening re-packing, say our “good-byes” and head to the airport at 9:30 p.m. to begin the trek home. Joe Powell is delighted to discover his long-lost suitcase at the airport as he prepares to be ticketed for the Air France flight. It takes several hours to wait in line and go through customs. We fly out at 12:50 a.m. Monday, surrender a couple of time zones, and arrive in Paris at 10:40 a.m. It’s definitely preferable to get the longest leg of this journey over first. What we find at Charles de Gaulle Airport, however, takes the spring out of our step.

Presidential Palace

[Sunday afternoon] Ninety minutes of walking later, we ride by motorcade (and a lot slower, thankfully) to Iavoloha, where we are eager to visit the Presidential Palace – Madagascar’s version of the U.S. White House. It too, is white, built by Madagascar’s previous president in the 1970s, thanks to North Korean funding. It is spectacular, with the large rooms and tall ceilings you’d expect to see in the headquarters for a head of state. We gather first in a quaint white chapel with stained glass and hard-carved rosewood pews inside, a structure our host had built recently. Ravalomanana greets us on the steps of the palace, and escorts us from room to room, including his office, on a tour for about 75 people that one member of his staff calls “unprecedented.” Ravalomanana invites us to eat afterward in an adjacent special events center during a buffet lunch of the finest food Antananarivo has to offer. The students sing again, and short speeches are made by Drs. Money and Ravalomanana, government officials and the father of one of the students. There is a remarkably candid message from Ravalomanana reassuring students of his plans for them to be provided a role in his government in the regions where they live. “I think we have taught you that with privilege there always comes responsibility,” said Money in his remarks. “I have every confidence you will fill these responsibilities very well.”

Village tour

[Sunday] After church, we are greeted outside by the mayor of the village, who invites us to tour the neighborhood of houses linked by narrow passages and foot-paths where chickens cross and children play. No doubt Ravalomanana's close connection to this tiny community of his boyhood roots has colored his resolve to help lead his constituents into a broader worldview. The vista from the mountaintop here is amazing.

The president's church

[Sunday] An hour after leaving the hotel, we arrive at the red-brick church building atop a mountain offering spectacular views of the countryside. The narrow road up the mountain has new blacktop, hairpin turns and no guardrails for our going-too-fast-for-comfort motorcade. The quaint house of worship is known as “the president’s church” in part because nestled around it are the tall, humble houses composing a tiny village where Ravalomanana was born and still considers home even though he lives in a presidential palace. In fact, he is building a massive house at the mountain’s peak where he plans to live one day. The church is charming – old-world in architecture, a modern sound system inside, and two massive wooden doors opened to the vista below. About 200 people are present and clearly waiting our arrival. They look curiously at the American visitors. Adults nod at us, and shy children wave small fingers and smile when we wave at them first. The service is conducted in Malagasy, and contains hymns with which we are familiar (Guide Me O Thou Great Jehovah, Master the Tempest is Raging and Brightly Beams Our Father’s Mercy). Students sitting next to the group quietly interpret the prayers and readings and sermon for several of us. The minister speaks passionately about the importance of serving others, linking passages read earlier from Luke 22 (Who is greatest in the kingdom, one who sits at table or one who serves?) and Acts 7.

MadaNASCAR

[Sunday morning] While a few from our group attended local congregations with Malagasy friends and family, the rest of us are invited to attend Ravalomanana’s congregation, the Church of Jesus Christ of Madagascar. We are picked up at 8:45 a.m. for a police motorcycle-led escort – lights flashing and siren blaring. The motorcade includes 8 cars of government officials and two buses for our group and families of 13 of the 24 students still in town. We race along the same crowded streets where we dodged traffic at a much slower pace during the week, only this time at more than 100 kph (kilometers per hour), drawing audible gasps from the group as we take curves and corners like a NASCAR Chevy, only with seating for two dozen dressed in church clothes. Other foot and vehicle traffic pull to the side of the road, except for a couple of bicylists who draw a stern finger-shaking from the motorcade leader before speeding off again. Our friendly and knowledgeable tour guide for the week, Mamy Randriamanantena (pictured here; you can hire him for your next trip to Madagascar by emailing him mamyguide@voidumonde.com), forgoes his normal spot standing in the stairwell for a safer sitting position, his eyes as big around as sausages on the Carlton buffet as we zoom along. Was this the first time he’s been in a vehicle going this fast, he is asked. “No, the second,” he replies, holding up 2 fingers. He says the first time also had to do with a vehicle clipping along on presidential business. Our motorcade is well-planned; there is a soldier, rifle drawn, standing at each intersection of street and highway to block oncoming traffic. There is no mistaking in Madagascar when its president or his proxy are on the road.

Lemur of the Day: Sunday

More Commencement images

The sound of music

[Saturday night] From the time Dr. Tyson heard them singing casually when he first met them four years ago, the Malagasy students have used their remarkable a cappella singing talent to entertain audiences in places across the nation. The tight melodies of their native folk songs and familiar Christian hymns have melted hearts and made friends, and made them feel more quickly at home on ACU's campus as well. The students sing heartily while putting on graduation robes for the ceremony, and later, perform 2 songs during it. Turns out it is not a peculiar coincidence that they vocalize so well. People in Madagascar simply love to sing. The voices echoing in the room this afternoon while their national anthem is played sounds more like a 625-member glee club, not a disparate group of people who happened to show up for a private event in a public space. Families and friends visit for more than 2 hours in a catered reception afterward, shooting photos of each other and at times, singing joyously with each other, too.

Program participants

[Saturday afternoon] The usual: Drs. Money and VanRheenen have major speaking roles, plus special messages from Drs. Tyson and Ravalomanana. Jack Rich provides a scripture reading. Drs. Strader and McCaleb lead prayers. Virginia Chambers represents the Board of Trustees by handing a diploma to each graduate as they cross the stage. Malagasy students with program roles include Aldo Raeliarijaona (leads "Holy, Holy, Holy" and "The Lord Bless You and Keep You", and co-leads "O Dear Christian College"), Rotsy Rasamimanana and Laza Razafimanjato (speakers), and Adolha Vonialitahina (co-leads "O Dear Christian College"). All of the 24 students perform two a cappella numbers together: "Andriamanitra Fitiavana" and "The Greatest Command."

A hot ticket

[Saturday afternoon] The event is scheduled to start at 3 p.m., but more than half of the 425 chairs are filled at 2 p.m. by family and friends dressed in their finest. I lost count of the photographers but try to I.D. the ones representing the media for follow-up later. Half of the back wall is occupied by TV cameras. Ravalomanana’s security people specify how close photographers and videographers can get to the stage, reminding us of the presence of a head of state. Similar but far more stringent rules were set back in Abilene by U.S. Secret Service assigned to protect Ravalomanana when he attended ACU’s May Commencement. Hotel staff bring more chairs from other rooms, but run out of space. It’s standing-room-only along the venue’s perimeter. The final attendance is determined to be 625.

Arriving in style

[Saturday afternoon] Ravalomanana arrives in a motorcade led by nine motorcyclists and including nearly 10 cars to transport him and his family and Cabinet members. Traffic is stopped in front of the hotel and a red carpet unrolled down the front steps. Inside, at the top of the circular staircase leading to the second floor, a dapper color guard of 9 soldiers lines Ravalomanana’s path to his changing room, sabers raised above as he walks in. Media gathers outside, chronicling his meeting ACU’s president and first lady.

The big day begins

[Saturday morning] I eat my first food (other than a couple Ritz crackers) since dinner Wednesday night. There are myriad details to see to Saturday. ACU wants this event to feel the same as it does back in Moody Coliseum. Academic regalia including gowns and hoods, printed programs (also translated into Malagasy for our guests), a DVD of music including “Crown Imperial” – all have been transported to Madagascar in shipments or in the suitcases of travelers. Graduates, escorts (a family member or friend) and program participants have a walk-through rehearsal in the morning. Each graduate receives a gift – a customized hard-back photo album/book of photographs over the past 4 years prepared by Pam Hadfield (my wife and Dr. Tyson’s assistant). It is a big hit, and provides parents a glimpse into the students’ lives back in Abilene. Many students tell me to tell Pam “thank you” and “we really wish you were here.” I concur.

Lemur of the Day: Saturday

[Saturday] With all the family and friends gathering in Antananarivo for Commencement, I thought this clan of ring-tailers was an appropriate choice for what promises to be a big family reunion.

How do you do?

[Friday night] The students and their families requested an opportunity to meet and thank ACU administrators, and Friday night is the best time for most of them since they will be traveling from all 22 of Madagascar’s regions for Saturday’s event. The students wanted a potluck dinner like they have come to know it in Abilene, but after a discussion about what “potluck” might translate to in Malagasy, a sandwich reception is organized in the Carlton’s veranda dining room. This is the first time for most of the families to meet some of the people who have been surrogate parents and mentors to their children the past 4 years. It is a loud and happy evening. It’s hard to believe the week is almost over. Here are some of the photos I gathered at the reception, largely of family groups with their student. Not every student was able to attend the reception tonight. I'll need help with the captions, so send a comment along if you want to assist.