Diversity

I was happy to have been given the chance to engage briefly, hoping perhaps in some small way prove in earnest that I did not think myself superior, rather I was just fascinated in my search of understanding. This was something I tried to explain to Nina as we left the safety of the covered tobacco factory into the midday sun. It seemed though that little act on my part allowed adults, those with a more conservative view, to relax more in my presence. It was a way to break the ice. The children in return tried to amuse us, the trio of Canuks, as we continued on our walk. I was circled by a large group of children. I had them hanging on to each hand, my waist and tugging at my capri pants.

What I do find fascinating is, as a result of Madagascan history of export travel (primarily the export sea routes from the 14th century onwards) that most Malgache are métis. Evident despite the darkness of the skin, many have light to medium brown and somewhat straight hair as well as other Asian traits; from slanted eyes, narrow hips and curveless buttocks. The people in Madagascar are as diverse as a rainbow in their genetic make up.

As in most places children are often the bridge to a community. Their natural curiosity and fearlessness tends to remove what prejudices adults may have about foreigners. We ended our walk back towards the port but continued to loiter around as the boat prepared for our continued journey. We watched the children playing with stones and wheels, splashing in the water between the boats and braiding each other’s hair. We finally departed our magical village oasis bound for more adventures ahead. I was in a state of photographic bliss and bewilderment as the boat grew further from the shoreline. I felt a sense of elation at being in Africa and seeing people in their natural unaltered state.

City of Tiny Wonders

As we started our float along the Tsiribihina, we traveled from Miandrivazo westwards towards the sea. We sailed 60 kms on our first day. It was sad to see how much of the countryside has been devastated from deforestation. Regardless of how beautiful and lush it seemed, it was evident that the thick jungle island of the past was no longer. The people you meet, however have a kindness and are very friendly, which is all that is much more apparent in the rural areas. Our first day, was marked with spectacular views, a welcome and wonderful bath under a remote waterfall and a spy mission as we managed to see a rare white lemur family of five from the shoreline.

We ended our 60 kms journey on the banks of a tiny village of 300 people, mainly children. The crowd’s curiosity at seeing the strangers was apparent as they watched us from the shore. As the sun started to set, the crew aboard started playing music, some tapping on oil drums with sticks, one with a mandolin and several with kitchenware; all of who sung in unison in Malgache. As our voyeurs watched, my traveling mates Guy and Michel invited them to join us aboard. It took a half hour before a few children trickled onto the boat, but within the hour, the boat hosted more than 20 children who danced under the suspended lantern, which as the pirate explained to me later was a first in all his years traveling along the Tsiribihina.

As the children danced under the lantern, an army of local bugs swarmed the boat. Eventually in the dark, lit only by candlelight, we had dinner. Due to the heat and excitement, we quickly found ourselves fading from a delightful day full of laugher. We camped out under tents on our barge with the crowd watching us until the last light was out. The advantage of travelling with others is that despite my shyness, I was not alone in my experience and as a result encountered a magical night with the locals. At the end of the day, it would seem a new understanding had been formed, namely, we tourists are harmless.

We all woke early, too hot and sticky. I watched the sunrise over the river and the sleepy village, start its day. All three of us decided to take a solitary walk without guides through the lively and cultural little oasis that we had stumbled upon. The smiles from the night before were magnified in the light of day. As the sun lifted and people woke from their slumber our entourage grew larger. Naina (our cook) escorted us for our second tour around the quiet little village. As the day progressed our quiet little village oasis, grew busier. As we wandered through the little avenues, darting between mud houses and wooden shacks, an appreciation of our surroundings invaded us foreigners.

The main source of income in this rural development is tobacco. We asked to tour the local factory along the way, wanting to see the process after cultivation, in preparation for sale to the regional tobacco companies. As I watched one of the women dropping off an extra large bundle, I asked Naina if I could take her photo. She obliged asking in exchange if I wanted to carry a bundle of leaves. I, in return, laughed stating that, I was not nearly as strong as she was and I did not think it was something I could do. She smiled, took my hand and led me through the maze of tobacco piles. She prepared a bundle for me and helped me lift the large bundle wrapped in burlap on my head. With a big smile I marched back through the maze and across the factory floor. With such a small gesture and a big smile the factory erupted into laughter, whistles, and for a few a slight sense of shock. Interesting what such a small action does for an entire community.

Although traditionally women do not smoke in Madagascar, the factory was filled with female workers. Each worker was carrying the burden of feeding their children and supporting their families. It is not easy work in the aftermath of cultivation. We watched as they carried large bundles of dried leaves to be sorted and de-veined prior to going through the press machines. We watched people sweating in the heat of the morning, struggling to start their long Sunday of work. We walked about with our big smiles, appreciating the luxuries of our lives and being grateful for the chance to be beyond our scope of culture.

Entry into "Paradise"

On first impression landing in Madagascar, is much like India; the first time I stepped foot outside the airplane. The heat is an instant reminder of no longer being at home. It was humid and hot. The flight landed in Antananarivo past midnight. We arrived and walked the tarmac into the airport. The air was filled with humid dew and the runway lights were spattered with varying size bugs. The flood of excitement and unknowingness had me restless and slightly fearful. As a shy person, it is not always easy to let people into my world. However being alone in a foreign country, I had no choice but to brave the experience I had set out before me. My friendly smile opened up a few doors. Before touching down I met two Quebecois who immediately took me under their wings. They kindly offered to have me join them in their taxi, seeing as our hotels were across from one another.

Antananarivo (“Tana”) like most big cities in developing countries has its issues, as a result of political instability the result of corruption and greed, the rate of crime is on the rise and the level of poverty increases. The confliction altered my feelings: my dreamt paradise was becoming more of a nightmare. However having some sense of perspective, I decided that perhaps as a conclusion of a somewhat aristocratic entitlement most travelers (several I met my first days) could not relate to the marginalizing of a country in the middle of great change. Like everywhere else in the world, internet, media and tourism has created an imbalance of the real culture, outward appearance and expectation. What I do know as a result of past travels is that if you are fearful, disturbed, and unhappy in your current placement, experience or environment – you change your locale. This is exactly what I did. The following morning, my Quebecois companions (Guy and Michel) and I set out with our guide Papula (the “pirate”) by mini bus, westwards to Miandavasio, where we spent the night in the pirate’s hotel.

Away from the hectic, scary, rather unwelcoming capital, Madagascar is an amazing place. Travelling through the countryside changes one’s entire understanding and appreciation. We started the day in a full hot, humid sun – but within a couple hours the sky closed down and the torrential rains surrounded us for most of the remaining 8-hour drive. Somehow looking out at the hillsides with cultivated rice paddies, bamboos and of course the spattering of palms reminded me of the typical images of Vietnam; the one I long to see. Yet in Madagascar, added to the splendorous green, is the astonishing red earth, which in its variety seems to offset the greenery in a striking way. The redness (light to dark brick) reminded me of my Cambodian adventure of 2002. As we drove, I felt that this jaunt across oceans and continents was the best thing I could do for myself. As a warm calm washed over me, my fears and insecurities vanished into the hillsides and I remembered why I wanted out of my comfy box at home.

My second night in Tana, I decided on zebu for dinner. I ate grilled zebu in a typical green peppercorn sauce with a side of fries. It was tender and delicious. On my third day I ate zebu twice more, once for lunch and again for dinner. At lunch in a local Malgache truck stop, I had a sort of zebu stew served over rice. Although quite bland with the added chilies, the stew was edible enough. We headed out again on route. We arrived after 8 hours, just as the sun was setting and the rain clouds had lifted, into Miandrivazo. As we drove through the bends in the road, careful not to run over livestock and children meandering on the sides, my mind wandered back to previous travels and a smile streamed out for all to see. We arrived at La Pirogue, in time for dinner. We had a fantastic dinner, out on the veranda under the darkening of the night. My companions enjoyed the taste of Three Horse beer (THB); I indulged in three types of rum. Rum with added spice or fruits is the Malgache specialty. The rum in Madagascar is the type of beverage that quite literally knocks one out of their socks. I started with rum with essence of ginger, then vanilla and finally cinnamon. I waltzed my way back to my room for the night.

That night under the mosquito net I contemplated the voyage ahead. The following morning, we embarked on our boat cruise. Our pirate and his crew drove into the middle of town to pick up some provisions and find our boat. We arrived at the dock, surrounded by locals, some simply curious to see the tourists and others busy with their daily routines. Curiosity is the one word that clearly describes our adventure over the following few days, both from the Malgache standpoint and of ours: the tourists.