Ocean waters, where sea and
sky become one. Look again
and spot the speck of land of a
distant private island so remote,
only a private plane or boat can
gain access.
But beyond all this, lies a deeper
pervading sense of place.
Through a profoundly ingrained
ritualistic culture of ancient
beliefs, such as the annual reverence of passed ancestors during
‘Famadihana,’ the exhumation
of bones, or the celebratory
circumcision of young boys, in
which the grandfather eats the
foreskin, Madagascar becomes
a transcendental experience,
engaging the sixth sense. For
those braving beyond the
wildlife and national parks,
here exists a curious culture
frozen in time with a people
always smiling and warm. Travel
through the country is a test of
mettle: body, mind and heart,
each challenged in irreversible
ways. Witnessing, with openness,
the state of Madagascar as it is, is
life-changing.
Photo: Anisha Shah
International
influences
Just 250 miles off the coast of
South east Africa, Madagascar
is African. But don't call the
Malagasy people African. They
don't identify with it. The earliest
ancestors arrived by sailboats,
making the treacherous journey
across the Indian Ocean from
the South Pacific and Borneo
in Indonesia, also home to
the closest relative of the
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Malagasy language. Certainly
in Antananarivo, the chaotically
crowded capital of 3 million
inhabitants, faces appear Asian I can't quite place them between
the Burmese, Filipinos and South
Pacific Polynesians. The earliest
Europeans hailed from Portugal,
but the French took control for
an enduring 50 years. Gaining
independence in 1947 involved
massive bloodshed and 80,000
Malagasy lives lost, as France left
Madagascar unequipped for selfautonomy, triggering it's plunge
into the depths of poverty and
political instability, a legacy
which today remains stark.
Rural scenes
Wealth remains rooted in the
palms of the powerful few,
invisible to the naked eye. The
destitution, however, visibly
permeates the land of abundant
beauty with a perpetual tarnish
of sadness. Vivid scenes of abject
poverty, immune to topography
or climate, faithfully accompany
any traveller's passage. From the
cool crisp highlands, through the
stinging heat of the south to the
stifling Eastern humidity, every
climate in Madagascar shelters
temporary pitches; roadside
shacks equivalent to cattle
pens housing entire families,
or villages of community-built
houses patched together using
red soil, zebu poo (Madagascar’s
cow) and bamboo roof.
The overtness of poverty is
outlandish in nature. Don’t
expect subtlety in its demeanor;
rather an abrasive slap-in-the455