Mount & Blade Wedding Dance Hack

"Hear hear!" A reawakening with the auctioneer

The next morning it was drizzling. We ought to leave, but given the time, the difficulty of the course and the sympathy of the entire clan and Rakoto, we decided to stay another night. It was still morning soon when I heard for the first time: it was an auctioneer! Yes, he, in fairy tales that always makes his entrance with a loud "Hear ! Hear !!!". Sakaivo appears that, as in medieval villages, the news spread in the public interest as well, with this figure rising up the hill to the town center and starts to scream, so that his screams reach all the inhabitants. I listen to try to understand what he was saying. And I can make out the words: " Vazaha " ... "Teny Gasy Mahay " ... But ... we're talking about! And what will it be? I am going to ask Rakoto Enlightenment. He, who greets me with his usual smile, tells me that morning that one of his younger grandchildren have lost money (15,000 Ar, a tidy sum) in the central square of the village. He tells me that someone found them, a girl, but no one knows who he is, nor did she know where to return them. Then the auctioneer was given the task of persuading her. And as a bogey - and here we come in! - You have been warned loudly that it is best that you resolve to do it quickly, because there are vazaha country, which also speak Malagasy, and have a technological tool (a lie?) Can detect liars and criminals. Rakoto did not have time to finish telling the story, that the girl's mother comes to return the money.
So here we are: we have indirectly participated in the completion of a good deed! And we also had first hand experience that the threat of the white man (like the one black man from us!) Continues to run, alas!

Spotting Pink And Brown

tranomena

zafimaniry Among the villages we visited, Sakaivo Avaratra deserves a special place, a cluster of about fifty wooden houses at the foot of the peak of Laibory, at a height of 1450 m. The village is presided over by a board of elders, a member of which, Rakoto Emanuel, offered us hospitality during our stay. Rakoto 73 years old and is a special guest, one of those that to imagine the future has already tried: while not speaking a word of French, he built a house to welcome visitors next to her, insisted that the guides to teach his grandson how to cook European-Desy, so when there are visits, he can make up a bit 'of money, built a rudimentary toilet and a shower room: small basic comfort after a day's journey are appreciated. The atmosphere created is so simple and familiar that the vazaha can forget for a moment his pale skin, and relax to enjoy the warmth of traditional hospitality. To make the rest of us think the grin of Rakoto and two or three droplets of toaka, rum time: the spell is done.
Rakoto's house, like almost all the houses in Sakaivo, is a traditional house zafimaniry. The tranomena, so it is called, follows a precise geographical position that brings with certain features common to other traditional houses of the highlands, the origins and beliefs of a people whose ancestors came from Malaysia on board rafts. All the houses in the village are lined up along the north-south axis, with the opening facing to the west to protect it from winds, rain laden winds blowing from the east. The southeast corner, which in this cosmology is metaphorical and miniaturized the Indian Ocean, is where you normally keep water, ie the bulk bin with the proviso that each day is filled morning at the source. The northeast corner is rather well-wishing, in memory of ancestors from Asia (located just north-east of Madagascar), and "Masoandro", which translated literally becomes the "eye of day": so that the Malagasy call the sun. In this corner, before beginning the toasts and speeches of welcome for newcomers, turns a quick thanks to the ancestors, offering them a few drops of rum. The house of
Rakoto respects this provision. In the south there is the hearth, consisting of three stones, which represent father, mother and children that hold up the pot with the food that feeds them. The ventilation hood, however, is not there, so the environment is constantly invaded by the smoke: the only way to stop tears to your eyes is perched on low stools, remaining below the thick, toxic cloud. The soot that blackens everything it does offer the advantage that permeates the walls and seals the interior of the house, making it more resistant to weathering. With this little trick a tranomena, despite being made entirely of wood, can withstand up to 300 years! In the room there is no other furniture that Nattes, raffia mats on which the zafimaniry, and the Malagasy countryside in general, eat, talk, and often sleep too. A large kit and some Nattes stool is in fact the first gift for a girl to be married.
our part, I must admit that we had some luck, because we ended up at the home of Rakoto during a big family gathering at the second sowing of paddy. According to a tradition that is unfortunately becoming increasingly rare in Madagascar for farm work is most appealing to the solidarity of the entire clan, which meets to help out without expecting much in return that share of the meal, heartfelt thanks and toast rite. These meetings, in addition to the obvious practical purpose, are extremely important to cement kinship ties, as are moments of encounter and understanding between all branches of the family very extensive, so time to discuss unions, births and deaths.
When we arrived at the home of Rakoto, in the late morning of Friday, October 2, the entire clan was then in full force, and between men, women and children, we were about fifty. In the south of the house reserved for women, the bulk boiling pot full of corn intended to feed the workers, who at that time were working in paddy field. Rakoto welcomed us instead in the north, the normally reserved for men. After a European style with a refreshing drink beer THB, afternoon has elapsed between pleasant conversation and a visit to the rice fields, to look at the work. At dinner time, the house was crowded with people. It has not had time to swallow the last spoonful of rice were already beginning toasts and speeches: a shot at the head of household - Rakoto - and a guest! A primer to the chieftain - Rakoto - and also a vazaha! A toast to the village elder - always Rakoto! - And one to his cousin! And so it goes fine until the drunk killed the conversation and started the songs and countermelodies, grooved explained that went on for a long night. In all this, in turn, and all drank from the same glass. Just as well - thought my demon hygienist - that's 80 ° to kill germs thinks alcohol!
The presence of myself and Vince, whose eloquence Madagascar melted as they increased the level of alcohol, was after all a small event. But in the end, the real star of the evening was mutual aid, the family solidarity so delicately portrayed in a sculpture of the reasons most dear to Zafimaniry. That is the motto: Unity is strength.

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Within a few notes on Zafimaniry

In the heart of the highlands of Madagascar, east of the town of Ambositra, live Zafimaniry. Their founding myth has it that, two centuries ago or so, this Betsileo source group took refuge in the mountains to escape the incipient deforestation and conscription imposed by conquerors Merina.
What has been the desire of intact forests or freedom, these people have lived practically isolated for some time, on the tops of difficult access and perpetually shrouded in mist, practicing subsistence agriculture based on corn, sweet potatoes, taro and cassava , obtained with the system of "slash and burn" cut trees and shrubs, leave them dry in the sun, then set a controlled fire with which it will release the parcel of land cultivation. After the harvest, before returning on the same plot, let it sit for a couple of years. This technique, which saves the trouble of tilling and plowing, but has the consequence that, after two or three rotations, the ground, lifeless, produces nothing but ferns and twigs. Currently this group has about 50,000 people scattered in about a hundred villages, like the rest of Madagascar, are constantly growing population. If it is true that they fled to the mountains to "desire" of the forest (Zafimaniry fact means "descendants who want to"), there is no doubt that the forest have loved to Death: the wooded expanse of time is now reduced to a corridor that narrows with each passing day. "Maty ny Wing" - you say - "the forest is dead "and seem to allude to an inevitable disaster with which they have nothing to do. But the forest, alone, will never die: they are the Zafimaniry that if they are, quite literally, eating.
However, it is not to blame them that I went to meet them!
With their traditional symbiosis with the forest, the Zafimaniry have developed a great skill in woodworking. Almost everything in their world, comes from the forest: the houses, all of rosewood, are masterpieces of joint, built without a single nail is completely removed and finely carved windows and doors, which sit on the stools are made from a single wood block; the large containers with such a time when the forest was still lush and generous, they went to collect wild honey, logs are hollowed out, the family tombs are heavy sarcophagi, the oldest of which are assembled with only two blocks of a single trunk . In everyday life, the Zafimaniry recognize and use about 23 different types of wood, each with its own precise function. This incredible mastery was declared in 2003, Intangible Heritage of Humanity by UNESCO. But while their art becomes a World Heritage Site, the resource that allows them to be teachers is slowly (but not too much) and without any fuss, which was destroyed by the very people who should be guardians.
Nevertheless, the country of Zafimaniry continues to provide a panorama of extraordinary beauty and be a destination for many tourists who venture into one or more days of trekking, visiting the small wonders of rosewood hidden in the mountains.
So there I was, watching the interactions and changes resulting from contact with foreigners, in a world of plants on which the request to give empty plastic bottles and is some mobile phone (but only works if you climb to the mountaintop ), represent the first, but certainly not the last, a sign the worst of globalization spreads.
zafimaniry I spent about three weeks in the country, during which I met and discussed with the notables of the village and all those who, in one form or another, may be involved directly or act as observers in the meeting privileged tourist. Three weeks have been physically demanding, because, to move from one village to another, I had to make the trek - the natural diversion of tourist - the prerequisite for my work. To reach the various villages in fact you have to climb up on the mountain and then back down to the valley: one, two, three times as many valleys and mountains, on uneven paths that often end up on the lightest bridges that cross numerous streams and then cling to the walls of granite. One step after another, you end up walking at least ten miles to each shift. With each new route, it makes you think that, whatever was running away when he came to settle here, these people I had to have a tremendous fifa! These same paths for Zafimaniry are the bread and butter because they travel at incredibly fast pace each day to and from the fields and woods. On Wednesday, market day, battered caravans of people from the four cardinal points, in single file through the mountains towards Antoetra, the capital of the municipality from which they return carrying their loads, the women on their heads, men on shoulders. Al market's Zafimaniry go there to buy, almost never to sell, and move in groups for fear of robbers who, cruel irony, in these times of widespread poverty are robbed of even the simple peasants lucrative. However
arrive in a village before they can speak with potential informants for my research, I had to then wait patiently for the evening, because until there are only dusk street kids: anyone who has strong arms is at work in the fields . Obviously, not all villages Zafimaniry receive the visits of tourists: the hundred that I mentioned, I will have visited a fortnight and only four can be said to be fully "on tourism." Curiously, these four are not necessarily the most beautiful, but only the most accessible. Even more curiously, their people travel they know little or nothing, despite receiving an average of a thousand visitors a year. For them, tourism is white people who come to take pictures, and whatever hope is that the leave pens, notebooks and some T-shirt used, which however, from a different point of view, it's the worst that could happen . Still less, more curiously, they know to be "Intangible Heritage of Humanity." Paradoxical, no?
But then that might have meaning for them these labels? The definitions are useful only for those who know how use them and in many cases serve to fill dictionaries and guides. True, burning the forest and with it the future generations. True, maybe tourism could become an effective lever for development and contribute to the preservation of nature. However, after some exchanges with the locals, I wonder if on your side, whether with those who maintain or who destroys. The latter, after all, what choice do you propose? The future lies elsewhere and is not essential for them to begin to imagine, especially on an empty stomach. Then again, who knows these people that tourism has never even been in the capital? Theirs is a "tourist" they despite that no one has ever explained what or how they might use it to avoid being forced to beg. Outside the pages of books
the vision of the world is increasingly complex and nuanced. The items to be sufficient to describe with justice, have to cross many cultural barriers and get down into the valleys of meaning.
But for the moment because they want to be only fragments, which have never claimed to be able to tell the truth about the reality of this island, I will start telling stories.

Orkester Sound Bank Reason 3

Dedicated to all those who love Heroes

Speechless

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJTNVfITLP8

Letter Of Sales Of A Car, Or Property

There are heroes by the common names.

There are heroes because people do not deserve even a minute of silence.

Hello Simone.

Sims 3 Windows Blinds Theme

Sorry, but ... wait ...

Travelling is good because it makes you appreciate the things we take for granted. Some time ago I read that reflect on what you have is a good exercise to train their sense of gratitude. That being the case, then I'm combining business with pleasure and working to become a better person (!).
When I came to Madagascar, that someone else had been before me were surprised that I feared the lack of communication with the world. There is little enough to realize that perhaps he had never been in Madagascar, or at least, its Madagascar was not the same. This Madagascar, from which I write, the ADSL has not yet arrived, the phone only takes in the cities and to attach a pdf file the other day, after searching and discovered the only Internet point of this town of 30,000 inhabitants, a task that in itself took about half a day of investigation, took me 94 minutes of beauty! And that, for the avoidance of doubt, if sometimes makes me nervous, most of the time makes me think very deeply about the West but where I come from and the daily life of a country in the developing or Third World, as we said before the advent of the "politically correct" ... but that's another story, and I will tell it again.
These technical difficulties forced me to post with great delay, while that of water under the bridge will continue to pass and the situations and feelings change quickly. However, do not give up the desire to feed this blog telling the facts, even if they lead to work backwards, I was useful to document all the steps in recent months.
Today, 5 October, I returned from two weeks of field work in communities zafimaniry. While waiting to digest the information gathered and the experiences I leave you with what happened two weeks that seem like an eternity ago ... Happy reading!

Congratulations On Baby Expectation

About

So much for toys, we take a thread left hanging. Do you remember the long, tortuous history of visa? To the delight of fans of soap operas, the story is not over yet!
The last time we had heard, in early July, the undersigned, after ten days spent in the corridors of the Ministry of Madagascar, was able to obtain a "receipt of filing the application for a visa," which gave the right to move more or less freely in the country until August 9. "We will send you a notification by mail before the deadline!" I told the nice officer at the door.
few days before August 9, in effect, a notification has arrived. "Dear Madame - read the letter which I paraphrase freely - we have the honor to inform you that, bla bla bla bla bla bla, if you want to get a visa We shall give receipts for payment of very substantial sums, ie, 60 € for the visa more than 92 others for the purpose of issuing the residence. " GULP. It's not that I died from the desire to invest a further € 150 in stamps, here! In addition, I believe that students should be half the price!
need a face to face. Taking advantage of the arrival of my faithful companion of snacks, Vince, I go to the capital. Plano over the offices of the Ministry. The employee is always there. Today, to give the air more busy than usual, is playing solitaire. After I was ignored for about ten minutes, during which I imagine exorcise the wait to pee in middle office or to set fire to all those piles of paperwork that off the shelves, the girl shudder an eyebrow and gives me an annoyed "What are you doing here?" no "she" and without "s' on vous plait. " I explain that I received a notification of the visa fee, but maybe there must be a mistake, because I am a student and you're asking me an exaggerated sum, twice the official one, which not only is publicly posted at ' input but also printed on that alert that dangles in front of the nose. "Sure, sure!" - Says unconvinced our champion of note - "but the fact is that there are different types of students. " "Sure, sure - I think, more than ever determined to not give up -" And where would , this classification of the various types? "" Mmm ... bahhhh ... well .... Let me check ... maybe ... "and leaves by the lonely to pretend to take some time before returning back to reason and give me the discount. Then tear off the notification that I had come, take a clean sheet and is preparing to copy the text by hand. It blocks a time because he can not do 92 divided by 2 without a calculator. Resume writing. "Behold! You can now go to pay. I will pay € 30 directly to the Treasury, the remaining 46 by bank transfer addressed to the Ministry of the Interior. Ah, I forgot! This is the second payment must open a bank account in Madagascar! "-" Excuse me, but I could not do it from my English bank account, the payment? " -" What is expected to return to Spain in the coming days ?.
undecided whether to laugh or cry, I understand that our official familiar with the technology is limited to the solitaire game, so the best, after all cordially, and, now in pieces, we ski to the bank.
Coda.
Hold.
my turn came: "Good morning, I should make this payment" - "Excellent. Here the list of documents to be delivered in order to open a bank account. " Another dozen photocopies, stamps, certificates, photos, cards and papers from one day to splash each. Call
lawlessness.
invite corruption. Call
terrorism.
NO. NO. NO. I DO NOT WANT TO COME AND LIVE IN MADAGASCAR. I DO NOT WANT is for ever. I JUST WANT TO MAKE A SMALL, SMALL, SAFE SEARCH AND THEN BACK TO MY HOME. I DO NOT WANT a residence card. I do not want a bank account. ALREADY HAVE MY TICKET AND RETURN WITH me, I am also ready to use NOW. PLEASE NOT THE WOMEN tortures me, my time is running out.
But you know, the prayers do not help to much, if God which has the visa expired he too. The next day, and then, after long reflection, I resolve to look for someone who has a bank account and can make the payment on my behalf. I find it. We should meet but he is ill. Then, just to start somewhere, I'll do the first of two installments, one at the Treasury. And right there, that he too is doing the line, I Said Ahmed, a student Comorian. I ask him: "But how do you, do all these dies? A bank account you have it? "Ahmed Said It tells me the bank account that he did not have it, but anyone willing to make a deposit in his place, and even if I need my already knows. So I follow Vince and Said Ahmed, who takes us on a little square, where there is a type. He wants the money, but I do not do them daughters. "Go to make the payment before - I say - and then, with the receipt in hand, I will refund the money . Unbelievable but true, and this is Madagascar, the type back after half an hour with the receipt. All right, all in order, do not ask me even a penny, but I think it's because somewhere if its crest must have already done. I still pay the taxy it to him, and then I think the minimum is less than one euro. Thank you. By Ahmed Said we run the Ministry, which has already closed, but let us enter the same. I have all the documents, all payments, all pre-franked envelopes, all the photographs. " Everything in order" - says the increasingly official idling "In a week can go to withdraw the visa. For the residence card, will have to wait about a month. Until then, we keep your passport there us. "
That was August 25. To date, my passport is still there. So in three months I did not ever asked anyone. I hope that the visa is ready, I hope I did not have lost. What should I do? If I had known it was a subject so interesting, I wrote my thesis on the bureaucracy Madagascar!

Nitro Buggy Off Road Blueprint

Two money to see a penny

September 18: Who is saying: "We are still missing money to see a penny ?". Because to me this sentence, obviously referring to myself in recent weeks reminds me of like a refrain. It is the corollary, justification, the caption to my moments of frustration academic.
Before arriving in this country, I imagined I research different: I already saw in the land without prior remote village, greeted by choruses and dances, armed to the teeth with notebooks and tape recorders, ready to catch the slightest rustle of events . I thought I could forget about the shape of the ante, I thought, finally, to be able to devote myself to my work without having to occupy the other. Evidently, even though I'm not surprised all the way, was wrong. Instead ...

Before beginning my research, for example, I have to worry about buying tons of batteries. So then I do not stay without right in the middle of recording a litany that unrepeatable. Before beginning my research, I have to worry about how to find a way to get where I gotta go. Because here there are no cars or people in high places that rent offer me a ride. And also, before you take care of my research, I try to make me someone I suggest someone else who can accompany me to find that someone who will help me do the research. And, if this someone let yourself be enchanted by such high-sounding as fake speeches, before embarking on my research I have to make sure I have in my pocket a little 'grain to oil the hoarseness of his uvula. Why, of course, is that people do not just fight as to say its in my research. And I must not forget to dress properly before embarking on my research, because even if the interview is done in village in the middle of the jungle to get there and you walked half an hour under the sun, it is important to maintain a 'organized and professional appearance, or else, that you have credibility? And also, before embarking on my research, I maybe take off the habit of gesticulating much and especially to point the finger, a gesture which I do regularly when I want to emphasize a demand, since this is considered bad manners. And always before starting my research, I must not forget that you have in your pocket, prepared with care, so many beautiful questionnaires, tailored to the circumstances and the audience, because maybe that guy you've persecuted by phone throughout the week you meet him while he is shopping at the market, or even, finally tired of hear him play, he decides to answer the phone, and then says: "O see you immediately or never! "and then, if you're not prepared properly your research, you have missed an opportunity to those that do not recur again. And a little 'devotion, before embarking on my research, do not spoil anything, as here, to pull the strings, there is always a servant of God, who first give you a hand, he wants to make sure that you received all the sacraments.
Thus, in this immensity my thought drowns
... Well, to me, to do the research, the Institutional-type high-sounding, I lack a little 'pieces. In addition to the accessories mentioned above, I would like to have an SUV and a pith helmet. Then, a cure pretty strong against the "Stockholm syndrome". Finally, I look a bit ' more authoritarian, perhaps even work well on the air really unlucky, thick glasses, the r dull, this attitude a bit 'more squeamish, the kind that make you square the people down. And maybe a bit 'over fear, because if I had, I would stay among the skirts of the institution, rather than being always vomited out, in all situations to be invented and where I find myself almost alone in believing. If I had more concerns, and seek more protection for trade, maybe even find more institutional support. Instead I find myself here on the ground, and I think, architect, projects and organize. And, to a certain point, so good. Notebooks regurgitant information. Ribbons of fresh and fresh evidence to come in a language that nobody understands. Until this professor's advice that: "In community, you should always go for someone's hand!" did not become a threat: "If you do not know anyone , will not be able to continue your work ! ". Where, where is my Ogotemmeli? Where are the crowds of informants and interpreters of my textbooks? Where are the institutions?
Here, these are the two pennies that I miss, I always missed to appear a penny! Having the right keys, the presentations that bring in awe, the magic words open the doors. Here as elsewhere, the logic is always the same: if you do not send anybody, nobody will notice when you arrive.

So I step back and change strategy. By exercising the newly acquired biblical virtues of patience, something to be contacted by the parish communities zafimaniry, who offered to accompany me and guests. Of course, the alternative would be to go with tour guides. But you tell me how do I get information sincere and wanting even critical, if that makes you an interpreter has all its interests at stake? Discard the thirty or so tour guides, including abusive and officers, rejected the regional secretary of the Ministry of Culture, which after the usual refrain of presentations, obviously mistaking my request, he looked surprised from behind his glasses and said: " I would be happy to take her, but you see, here I am alone to take care of everything (!) and then, I have not even a car. What would you say if I recommend a guide friend of mine? Other people, not that I know "The parish priest Father aspect Max, in fact. A real boon, one might say. But the father in question, including his lost sheep mica live there. The visit, from time to time. So, I expect the call arrives. For ten days. Needed a break before embarking on my research.