With 80% of FBC on vacation or passing their final exams, we were surprised by the intense commenting on some blogs and after a little inquiry discovered that it was related to the topics they discussed. Youth activism, education, sex, AIDS, contraception, etc. are not commonly blogged at Malagasy blogosphere (were the age range is 25-40 and most of the bloggers from the diaspora). Foko bloggers with their “spontaneous” blogging and honesty bring some controversy, fresh air and a taste of reality to the community.
Condoms for Adolescents – Abortion – Youth unemployment
Patricia in few months has made extraordinary progress in blogging and writing skills (especially in english). Today she is intensively answering to her supporters comments and is keeping things…politically correct.
“No sex before the marriage”: this rule still to be respected by some young persons, but the most of them can’t follow it! So, if we really can’t avoid sex before getting married, what to do?
In spite of its prohibition and many ways existent for avoiding it, abortion always exists, most of the time in total discretion. Why to abort? Is there any other solution aside it?
The unemployement was ever a problem for Madagascar since many years. In spite of this fact, no important and suffisant solution hasn’t yet found till now!
Diana is known from her project to help Baby Kamba and when you discover her other posts, there are no doubts about her activist fiber:
“Aryan , hold me in your arms, I am hurting”. “I am hurting” those were the words that I kept repeating and that are already overwhelming Aryan who does not what to do.
“3 murderers are needed to kill a being, a defenseless innocent being and still, we have yet to succeed.”Everything started when Aryan told me that we were going to see his friend, a health care provider. He gave us 2 tablets of misoprost containing 4 pills each.
Aryan’s friend told us that one ought to be moving around a bit after taking the pills. At 4h30 am, Aryan wakes me up: “ Amlah, wake up, you need to take your pill now so that you feel better in the afternoon”. I refuse to wake up because I slept late last night. However, I suddenly realize the situation and rise up to take the pill.
“Aryan, Amlah, where are you two going so early ?” Aryan’s mum has obviously awaken.
“ We are just going for a run”. Her mum bought it and we head for the deserted streets so that no one wonders what we are up to.
Suddenly I feel a sharp pain in my belly. I cry in pain in the middle of the street. The sun has arise and the mist that protected us from the public eye is slowly fading.
“Let’s walk faster” Aryan says. I am trying hard but we still need to stop from time to time in front of the Indian shops for rest. Crying, I tell Aryan “ I am tired and I am hurting everywhere”. We finally arrive at my place where my bed looks like a million bucks to me at this time. Aryan is looking for wet towels because I am starting to bleed.
As I wake up, I feel better because the pain has subsided a bit and my precious is next to me. He asks me how I feel and I told him I am fine. I am fortunate to have Aryan’s love because most guys would have left as soon as they hear of pregnancy. Everything goes as plan for the next 4 days. I am still bleeding a bit but deep inside, I am in great pain. “ Allah will never forgive me for having killed his creation”. I feel like eating seasoned manguo achar all the time. It’s not usual for me to still have cravings so I decided to take a pregnancy test again.
I yell in panic “Aryan, how come it’s still positive ? ” I am shouting at him as if it’s his fault. He runs outside to find his friend. They come back and he says:” we will give youa shot, my dearest, I am also tired of putting you in harm’ s way like this so we will take care of it one and for all”. So another road paved with broken glasses and sharp thorns waits me. I so want this to be over with. My body is internally bleeding and my heart is torn. Allah , have mercy on me.
[Translator's note: this is part II of a fiction piece translated from Diana's work]
Some of them (children) aren’t intitled to their right because of the differents kind of distinction or discrimination on account of race, colour, sex, language, religion, political or other opinion, national or social origin, property, birth or other status, whether of themselves or of their families. WHY?
Madagascar: Land of my people.
by Zouboon
It has been 48 long years since Malagasies have been given the authority to decide our nation’s, beautiful Madagascar’s fate.
There are still however some hints, even indirect ones, that show that foreign residents are in charge in our country.
Because it has only been one month that we celebrated our independence, our patriotic heart cannot but tell the truth. The questions rises : “do we Malagasies repudiate a young spouse, to give others a new partner”, or do foreigners dominate us and take advantage of our poverty? The reality is that foreigners enslave us and control wealth in Madagascar, and are the pampered ones. How many are those foreigners white (Europeans), Chinese, South Indians who all gather our island’s wealth. Many of them own huge local industries, and we Malagasies are their lowly employees. Those from abroad own the industries, which are built locally, the finished products are sourced from local material. However they are the ones getting the most gain, us Malagasies, whose sweat and material generate the finished products, only get the left over crumbs foreigners deign leave. And finally, those foreigners are much respected and feared. We Malagasies lick their feet and plead for the wealth that is ours in the first place.
There is a saying “The owner is begging for his own organs”. The saddest thing is our helplessness and indeed even our mentality has been altered. The belief that whites are above blacks has been internalized.
Following is my message : may the stepping over the vanquished stops, may we stop drowning in our milk like cockroaches do, because our love for Gasikara is eternal, indeed eternal. May our Gasikara never become a foreigners’ land.