Being a Vazahy

Vazahy (pronounced vaz-zar): stranger, foreigner, most often “Western”.¹

“Bonjour vazahy”

As I walk the streets of Antananarivo, this is how I am commonly greeted by the Malagasy people. The assumptions made by the Malagasy in this greeting are that:

1. I am French

2. I am a foreigner

So 50% of their statement is correct, that’s not bad, right? As culture shock goes, this is a very mild manifestation of feeling different to your host nation. Also, this expression is not used by a local, out-of-touch xenophobe or intended to cause trouble. It is the normal address by the Malagasy people for a white, European such as myself.

But the longer I live in Madagascar, the more I understand that this is so much more than merely a greeting. I am grappling with the implications of what it means to be a vazahy. Seeing as everyone calls me a vazahy, do I take that to mean that it is no more than an innocent designation? Because I am indeed white, and a foreigner, that they are just saying the truth, calling it as they see it? Or is there something under the surface of their greeting, that perhaps speaks to something more sinister? Is it the locals’ way of ensuring and maintaining a separation with those who are outside of their culture? Or is it intended to be derogatory? How should I react to being a vazahy in Madagascar - is it a title to embrace or to challenge? Especially as a missionary, how will this affect the ministry I am called to? All of these questions gnaw at me when I hear the phrase “Bonjour vazahy”.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly of being a Vazahy

The Good

It is difficult to find many positives in being a vazahy, and even these apparent benefits can have complex ramifications. It is certainly true that being a vazahy affords a certain status in Madagascar. They are considered wealthy (predominantly this is true), powerful and, in many cases, popular to know. Possibly this opens certain doors to the vazahy that would not usually be granted to ordinary folk.

However, these benefits come with a cost. Firstly, it can be a great temptation for foreigners to lean on the vazahy label in order to advance their careers, livelihoods and ministries (if they are Christian workers), which is often at the expense of the Malagasy people. This pull can corrupt even the purest of motives. Secondly, the stereotype of a wealthy foreigner makes them unwitting targets for crime and extortion. Finally, in some circumstances, a vazahy may find it difficult to be totally confident in the authenticity of their relationships with Malagasy people. The vazahy's popularity can be taken advantage of.

The Bad

Top of the list is being generalised as a foreigner. In my case it's the assumption that I am French. Of course, this is understandable to a certain extent, as the vast majority of vazahy in Madagascar are French. But the thorny past of French colonialism in Madagascar means that all European expats are viewed unfavourably through this lens (I am not discounting the troublesome colonial efforts of the British in Madagascar, but the historical impact of the French in Madagascar is more well-known and hated by Malagasy citizens).

This means that often the Malagasy interactions with the vazahy are characterised by fear and trembling, and this is already within the context of a fear-power culture. The Malagasy do not begin their relationships with the vazahy from a footing of trust or dignity, but one of tense, apprehensive deference. Alternatively, I have experienced challenges on the street from younger, male Malagasy. Perhaps through this show of strength, taking on and triumphing over the vazahy, they demonstrate that they have overcome any fear that they had. Other ways to undermine the vazahy is to raise the prices for the foreigner at the market stalls or in the taxis. By extorting a small amount of money from their assumed, bottomless pockets, it is a small victory against the tyranny of the wealthy in an impoverished country such as Madagascar.

It is also true that you are not just spoken to as a vazahy but you are looked on in that way as well. We have learnt in our studies that staring is a natural habit of the Malagasy. What we would consider rude in the UK is a way of life in Madagascar. Well, there are not many things so interesting to stare at than the vazahy. I feel that is especially true of my daughter, the local Malagasy are fascinated by a child who is a foreigner. To be treated differently from the very beginning of her life is a difficult thing to endure. We have already noticed that other children are wary of her in their interactions, viewing her with a fearful curiosity.

The Ugly

If we were the only vazahy in Madagascar, we might have some success in changing the perception of foreigners in the eyes of the people. Sadly, however, we have heard many stories of other vazahy shamefully mistreating the local population and abusing the wealth and status that they have been afforded here. Moreover, the negative aspects of Madagascar's tourist industry (which is one of their main forms of income) - prostitution, excessive alcohol consumption and drug use - exist to satiate the tastes of many wealthy vazahy. It is difficult as white, British missionaries not to be judged in the same way.

The Range of Reactions

On a daily basis, I oscillate back and forth on a spectrum of different emotions considering my position as a vazahy in Madagascar. Sometimes I'm downright angry - why do they lump me in with all these other foreigners, they don't even know me! Why are they trying to rip me off at the market just because of my white face? Then I often feel guilty for taking offence at being stereotyped in this way. Being labelled a vazahy is an understandable xenophobia considering the colonial past of Madagascar, even if I am definitely an unwitting partaker in the divisions that exist in post-colonial times. I wonder if I have a right to challenge the label when I am merely a guest in this country. Perhaps I have to recognise the word vazahy, and all that comes with it, as a product of Malagasy culture, and stop comparing it to my own culture (indeed, if I greeted people in the UK as “foreigner”, I would definitely receive more than just a dirty look). Then comes a state of begrudging acceptance. I consider the many differences between myself and the tompon-tany (local people): material, hierarchical, health, opportunities etc - perhaps the stereotype is true?

Whether all or none of these feelings are grounded in any solid basis, I want to seek and adopt a different outlook on being a vazahy, one that is founded upon the truths of Scripture.

A Theology of the Vazahy?

The main Scriptural focus regarding the foreigner is how they should be treated by their host country. In the Old Testament, Israel is commanded to care for the foreigner by both providing for their material needs [Deut 24:19-21] and protecting them from harm [Exod 22:21].² Even though many aspects of their host culture would not be available to them, the foreigner was encouraged to participate in Israelite worship [2 Chron 30:25; Num 9:14, 15:14]. Similarly, the early church of the New Testament was also instructed to look after foreigners, especially as many Gentiles were coming to faith in Christ. Consider the apostles' consideration of the Hellenist widows in the daily distribution of food [Acts 6]. Or Paul's desire, as the apostle to the Gentiles, to ensure that foreigners feel equal in their worship of Christ, as seen in Romans or his magisterial statement in Colossians 3:11:

"Here there is not Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave, free; but Christ is all, and in all"

But whilst these are important verses to ponder, as the foreigner, I can't prescribe that my host country look after me in this way, that is up to them. However, there are other instances in Scripture that can help a vazahy like me conduct himself/herself. In Jeremiah's letter to the exiles, God encourages those Israelites in Babylonian captivity to "seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare" [Jer 29:7]. Although I am in no way likening Madagascar to Babylon, as a stranger sent by God to a different culture, this is good wisdom to heed.

In the New Testament, the nations were beginning to be reached with the Gospel of Jesus Christ for the first time. New tribes, tongues, nations and cultures were being adopted by Christ into the family of God and issues were arising as to how to accommodate and unite this new diversity. What was needed was a biblical culture, a heavenly culture. Paul declares triumphantly that "our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ" [Phil 3:20]. All those in Christ are sojourners, foreigners, vazahy on this earth. Therefore, not only is the cultural dissonance that I feel now totally appropriate, but also immensely instructive for fixing my eyes on the long game of eternity. As a citizen of heaven, I should feel no more British than I do Malagasy. This is also an exhortation for the Christian vazahy to be distinctive compared to the world around us. Peter urges in his first letter "as sojourners and exiles...abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul" [1 Pet 2:11]. Moreover, through a mindset of heavenly citizenship, and by extension an earthly sojourning, the vazahy can be renewed in his faith because of the fulfilled promises of God, as the writer of Hebrews attests to:

"These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city" [Heb 11:13–16]

Conclusion

Having an eternal mindset allows all believers rejoice that their citizenship is in heaven with Christ. Only with the renewal of heaven and earth at Christ's coming will we truly feel that the ground we walk on is our home. Until then, we are ambassadors for the coming King, establishing his outposts all over the world.

Ultimately, if I could, I would not choose to be labelled as a vazahy, for all of the baggage that the term comes with. But to insist on this would to invite the charge that the people of Sodom pronounced to Lot: "This fellow came to sojourn, and he has become the judge! Now we will deal worse with you than with them." [Gen 19:9]. Thankfully, the Eternal, Holy One of God is the advocate of the vazahy, "The LORD watches over the sojourners" [Psalm 146:9; cf. Deut 10:18] and He "will bring to [His] holy mountain" all foreigners who worship Him in spirit and in truth. Right now, all I can be is a distinctive vazahy, known for my imitation of Christ rather than any expression of Western culture.

¹ Dahl, Øyvind., Meanings in Madagascar: Cases of Intercultural Communication. (Greenwood Publishing Group, 1999) p.174.

² Interestingly, there are some differences between the foreigner and the Israelite expressed in the Old Testament as well. For example, Deuteronomy 23:20: "You may charge a foreigner interest, but you may not charge your brother interest, that the LORD your God may bless you in all that you undertake in the land that you are entering to take possession of it." Perhaps I shouldn't take offence when I am charged the higher vazahy price!