By Anisha Shah
Madagascar is the land of the intrepid, fearless, trailblazer – kindred spirits drawn to the sheer magnitude of remoteness and wilderness. The name alone conjures flashes of primitive wildlife, beguiling beaches and deserted rainforests. The fourth largest island in the world remains shrouded in mystery, fascinatingly remote and exotic. Even its geographic location invokes debate. Whilst India is considered the home of poverty and wealth, Africa of growth and tradition, Madagascar garners heritage of both, having separated from both mainlands more than 100 million years ago, to cast adrift in the Indian Ocean. Eons of isolation have proved fertile breeding ground for the evolution of primitive species into the kaleidoscope of unique wildlife, which exists only in Madagascar today.
Whilst King Julien and his Hollywood clan turned Madagascar into a household name, what’s lesser-known is that more than 90% of the wildlife, flora and fauna are endemic to the island, much of which can be found nowhere else on earth. It’s a wonderful world apart, a playground for the weird and wonderful; a delight of dancing and singing lemurs, camouflaged chameleons and geckos, screaming lizards, poisonous thumbnail-sized frogs, 1000-year-old Baobab trees, abundant boas and a culture steeped in tradition, legend and lore, confirming Madagascar's air of intrigue in every way.
Aptly titled, ‘the eighth continent, Madagascar is a prehistoric evolutionary cauldron. The land that time forgot, the original Jurassic Park where dinosaurs once roamed, the ethereal island is a Mecca for wildlife-lovers and a pilgrimage for naturalists. The landscapes alone are the pre-requisites for that increasingly elusive ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ trip. Gigantic ancient baobabs in the West, swirling stepped rice fields of the central highlands (carved by hand, using rudimentary tools), semi-arid deserts of the South with leaping canyons and twisted rock formations, lush wildlife-filled tropical rainforests and sun-drenched empty beaches, all betrothed to a gloriously undeveloped setting. The undersea of the Indian Ocean is a world of endless coral amidst crystalline turquoise waters, inhabited by whimsical marine life, whilst the surface is dotted with pirogues and stained-sail dhows; local fishermen drifting miles from land in the searing haze of Indian 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.
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 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 self-autonomy, 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-the-face, which leaves one questioning hope for the future for many Malagasy. Of course, it also begs the question of government and why the people are left to live on the sidelines of death.
Whilst Madagascar has it's native luxury offerings for visitors, it would be a disservice to sidestep the reality. For those with eyes and heart wide open, able to accept it as it is, the rewards of a challenging journey are recompensed with overwhelming beauty, both in the incredible wildlife and scenery, and hearty interactions with the ever-smiling people.
Lemurs, lemurs, lemurs
As if clawing my way through a rainforest of hundreds of acres wasn’t overwhelming enough, my guide isn’t one to stick to ‘paths.’ At the distant eerie echo of lemur song, he’s off like a gunshot in pursuit of the Sifaka and Black-and-white Ruffed lemurs, 2 of more than 100 species inhabiting Madagascar. The most popular rainforests, Andasibe and Mantadia national parks lie East of the capital, spanning thousands of hectares. They’re primary and secondary forests, part-protected, and home to many species of Madagascar’s most famous residents. In a flash, 'Desiree' has disappeared through thicket so dense I’ve lost him, instilling an inkling of panic. ‘This way come quick, it’s a baby,’ the urgency in his call engages my flight function, as I attempt to trace my guide like a GPS through the blinding vertical maze of trees. I duck and dive, chasing him up a steep covered hill, heaving in the humidity, feeling entirely enclosed by wild woodland. The rainforest floor is spongy with no certainty in footing; drastic drops and uncertain edges are strewn with foliage, hiding the dangers. I’m warned not to grab onto tree barks as they’re likely laden with snakes and spiders or, at best, itch and rash-inducing leaves with no known cure. The lemur call echoes through the forest like a ghostly cry, confusing the tracker. We switch direction and I launch over fallen logs, sliding between thick dripping gnarled vines and hanging twisted stranglers, which are literally crawling with fiery red tomato frogs and leaf-shaped geckos. Lemurs move fast and keeping track in dense rainforest is an assault course. I find ‘Desi’ gazing upwards into rocketing canopy. And there I spot the most beautiful large mother Ruffed lemur. Peering down from her lap, safely cradled, is a 4-day-old baby, bulging liquid eyes peering at me loaded with curiosity. It’s a rare sighting, as baby season hasn’t officially begun. As my eyes meet the baby’s, all memory of the arduous prologue is erased. The only concern now is neck pain from spending half an hour looking directly upwards! Little matches the pleasure of spending time amidst the lemurs in their natural environment. The Mother leaps her large bear-like body from tree to tree, always upright, baby in lap. They’re agile and nimble primates, as the father neatly displays hanging upside down with just one foot gripping a tree branch. He reaches down to pick and gobble small tree fruits with disproportionately large leathery hands that are strikingly human-like. Later in the morning, we’re entranced by troops of Sifaka lemurs parading through the treetops. One family is Verreaux’s sifaka species with white silky coat and black face, whilst the other family is Diademed sifaka, emblazoned in orange shades. Trying to get a clear photo, I zip through bamboo trees, oftentimes walking face-first into giant cobwebs. Desiree reminds me that nothing in the rainforest is venomous, not even the snakes. But they do bite, as I see from the stings ensnaring my chest. We later spot the most beautiful lemur species that exists, the bamboo lemur. The critically endangered creature is tiny with an adorable attractive face. On the treetops, brown lemurs sneak tree to tree picking fruits, noticeable only from the crackling leaves whilst whizzing tree to tree.
After the elation of several hours with various lemurs, eyes switch focus to close-in on trees and foliage. The most surreal creature I have ever seen in my life is the leaf-tailed gecko. I don’t believe it when ‘Desi’ shows me tree-bark, where a mossy leaf-tailed gecko lays flat. It is startling to see it move, as it literally molds into the bark, taking the exact same color and texture, with a tail that seemingly liquefies into the bark.
The most brightly colored creatures of the rainforest are the Panther chameleons. Painted a rainbow of invigorating shades, it is amazing that these chameleons can be so well-hidden, but spotting one is impossible without professional eyes. We watch as a panther chameleon snaffles a cricket whole, and can even hear the crunching. Nesting inside the long spiky leaves of a ‘Traveller’s Palm’ or Ravenala, so-called because it’s sheaths can provide water in the rainforest, hides a thumbnail-sized Pandanus tree frog, the smallest frog in Madagascar. Most visually stunning is the Comet Moth, the largest species of silk moth in the world, with spotted golden wings. It’s lifespan is all of just 4-5 days. Walking back, Desi spots the most beautiful aspect of wildlife on the forest floor, two butterflies mating. They seem oblivious to us and remain grounded, their wings reflecting browns, blues and whites.
Rainforest night hike
What could possibly be more exciting? ‘How about a night hike,’ Desi proclaims. After dusk, I’m led on the night hike through Andasibe forest. Knowing what lurks, I’m anxious. In the forest, there is only darkness and screaming silence. It is a cloak, akin to being blindfolded and ear-plugged. Yet, the exhilaration of this once-in-a-lifetime experience keeps me curious. We set off guided only by flashlight. Very soon, he spots frogs, chameleons and, eventually, two of the smallest species of Brown Lemur rustling in the trees. The eeriest moment is catching glimpse of satanic red or molten golden eyes glaring back in the flashlight through foliage. Desi reminds me, ‘there are no large animals in Madagascar. No predators.’ That’s some relief. The Mouse Brown lemurs are tiny skittish creatures, elusive and extremely shy; a cross between squirrels and monkeys in appearance. I catch one munching on leaves, it’s big watery eyes glistening in the light. Taking a night hike through a Madagascan forest is precious. I can’t help but feel overwhelming respect for wildlife and nature, seeing why it so desperately needs protecting. So many species in Madagascar are endangered and exist solely in this island. I fear their future if deforestation is allowed to continue.
Madagascar hosts some of the rarest wildlife in the world, with scientists consistently discovering uncharted life. To walk through these forests is incredibly humbling. They are unbridled ecstasy for nature-lovers and those who crave remoteness. How many times do I look around and wonder, ‘Where the heck am I?’
Desi has the best eyes in the business. I can't understand how he spots dragonflies, chameleons and geckos in the bush. The noises he imitates range from smooching sounds to loud operatic calls, imitating mating indri indri lemurs to exotic birdsong. Way before his 10 years as a guide, Desi, as a child, would follow his grandfather on forest walks. His grandfather was a keen bird-watcher and Desi is too. Just 2 years ago, he spotted a bird thought to be extinct, the Helmeted Vanga. He managed to photograph it, presenting his finding to the world. That day, ‘I felt my grandfather proud,’ he explains with humility and joy. Desiree is a special breed, inspiring through his childlike enthusiasm and detailed knowledge. He could happily walk these forests for life.
Forested eco-lodge
My blissful Andasibe retreat sprawls several acres, dotted with individual bungalows. The eco-lodgings are basic and modest. But the beauty is in the surroundings. After arduous adventure-filled days, Vakona Forest Lodge is a peaceful oasis in the lap of nature. In keeping with the surroundings, hillside bungalows centre on a large circular thatched bar and restaurant with log fire, positioned over a lake. It’s a cozy spot for chilly evenings. Horse riding through the forest one morning with my chocolate brown beauty, 'Felina,' from nearby Stables of Falierana, I spot rare white sifaka lemurs finding breakfast in the treetops. My guide, Yohann, a French expat, let's me loose as we gallop along the little-used runway, hitting the highest speed I've ever strode horseback. The surroundings are so rich; it’s a treat to explore by horse at dawn, passing waterfalls, woodland, a river and hills. As a professional rider, Yohann's ability encompasses complete beginner to professional, ensuring the experience is open to everyone. It makes an unforgettable memoir of Madagascar.
Challenges of travel
Travel around this dream destination requires careful planning and research.
The infrastructure poses a major source of frustration for both visitors and locals. Opting for internal flights is perhaps worse than attempting the roads. Air Madagascar, the internal flight carrier, is unpredictable and sketchy at best. On the morning of my birthday, my flight east to Morondava is cancelled at the airport, upon check-in. On tight itineraries, which are the case for most travellers I meet, attempting to see as much of the country in a limited time, these cancellations and delays are a real setback. Due to my schedule, my only option is to charter a private flight or miss the giant ancient baobabs – symbol of Madagascar. I take the charter. It isn’t cheap but, if finances allow, domestic travel agency Asisten Travel has a fleet available, often at short notice.
A road trip is a delightful challenge for the adventurous heart. Forget traffic lights, lanes and rules. Here, some roads have more potholes than tarmac. National ‘highways’ zigzag across the country. Whilst some have been significantly improved in the past 10 years, others are little more than dirt tracks. Driver-guides here deserve a medal for the way they diligently handle the roads, whilst simultaneously offering tales from each village and town we pass, subconsciously feeding my understanding of the nation. I learn to relish the adventure on 8-hour drives, looking around through villages and forests, beginning to appreciate the journey as much as the destinations. The sights through the window tug at the heartstrings and engage every emotion from the deepest abyss of the heart. In fact, it’s only on these road journeys that one gains a true and honest sense of what constitutes much of Madagascar.
L’allee des Baobabs, symbol of Madagascar
Alley of the Baobabs or ‘L'Allee des Baobabs’ is a national highlight. The day I visit coincides my birthday and the pilot treats me by swooping low over the site, allowing breathtaking views of the baobabs and surrounding lakes and greenery. Upon landing, I’m whisked straight to Baobab Alley for sunset, where a glowing fireball casts molten shades onto the ancient 1000-year-old hulking bulking baobabs and their elephantine trunks. It’s a visual I’ll never forget. The Alley of Baobabs is positioned along a dirt-track, a very bumpy 30-minute drive from the airport and closest coastal city of Morondava. Farmers and their families live in and around the surrounding bush. Carrying firewood and pots on their heads, whilst wrapped in vibrant flowing materials, the girls make a stunning portrait against the breathtaking backdrop. This truly is the heart of Madagascar. Some tribes worship the baobabs as symbols of their ancestors. Their majesty reigns supreme. At sunset, I’m led towards a decking area, which normally houses a local cafe shack. Tonight, it has been closed off and a private butler waits with a bottle of champagne and canapés. Seated to a superior view overlooking the lake and Allee des Baobabs at sunset. It is a most moving experience. Remaining here until dark, the scene transforms as the star-spangled night sky and moon illuminate the trees in haunting light. Meanwhile, echoes of Malagasy music and children’s laughter resound from the surrounding villages, adding depth and richness to the moment. It's a birthday of a lifetime to remain etched in my memory forever.
Sunset is a popular occasion, seeing a handful of visitors. But the next morning at sunrise, I return to enjoy the entire Unesco world heritage site to myself. There’s a spiritual energy at dawn, a sense of life, hope and beauty. Sunlight streams through history and heritage, awakening an inner connection with the earth. It’s a deeply grounding time, which only inspires further awe of nature.
Morondava, the rugged West Coast
The dramatic Palissandre Cote Ouest beachfront lodge is my base in Morondava. Villas are positioned on a gloriously wild and barren white-sand beach on the Mozambique Channel. Peppered with driftwood and shells, framed by a natural lagoon and dotted by local fishermen, this beach is rugged and undeveloped. The Vezo fishermen cast their nets into the horizon, half a kilometre ahead of my villa, whilst others head to sea on wooden pirogue boats. I watch them whilst I sway on a swing on the beach. In the distance, flashes of vibrant silk catch the sunlight; flame-red, rust orange and fiery fuchsia, a trio of fishermen’s wives sashaying across the infinite sands to greet their husbands. It’s a trek to the water’s edge. The beach is long and more than a kilometre wide, with natural undulations.
On arrival at the hotel, after sunset at Baobab Alley, I’m ushered into the spa for a dusk massage, before being seated to private dinner on the beach under intense starlight. My waiter is also an artist. He’s painted the plates on which dinners are set. I fall in love with and purchase one of his artworks of L’Allee des Baobabs, as my personal souvenir.
If the itinerary allows, spend a couple of days in Morondava to truly appreciate this authentic African beach on the exquisite Indian Ocean. It is surrounded by local life at its most rustic and picturesque. Palissandre Cote Ouest and the surroundings of Morondava are unmissable.
Scars of history
The central highlands are a full day’s drive from Morondava, introducing an entirely separate climate and landscape. En route, we pass a collapsed bridge over the river. Tanjona, my excellent driver-guide, details a painful history in which this bridge and several others, once linking the capital city to the provinces, were bombed by the former President on losing the 2001 election. He was extradited to South Africa. The bridge has been left as a visible scar and reminder of his actions during that political crisis. A new bridge has been built further along the river.
Cool crisp central highlands
Antsirabe, meaning ‘place of salt,’ is the overnight city stop, so-called as salt was found here in its heyday. The city was discovered by the Norwegians in 1836. The cool climate attracts people from neighbouring Indian Ocean islands, La Reunion and Mauritius, who seek out spas with thermal springs, believed to contain healing properties.
One of Africa’s largest markets transforms this town on Saturday. ‘Sabotsy’ market means ‘Saturday,’ as most towns we pass are named after the market day of the week. A full walking tour takes 5 hours. It is a mind-boggling maze of crisscrossing lanes, rapidly disorientating. All around, the hustle, labor and bartering are symbolic of life in Madagascar. Witnessing locals at their most hurried is an eye-opening experience, the anti-thesis to the Malagasy life motto, ‘mora mora’ meaning ‘take it slow.’ Pickpockets are rife so I’m forewarned to leave everything in the car. Sure enough, I’m stunned when I notice a small child with his fingers in the back pocket of an elderly local shopper. Children roam freely in the market, their clothes and faces soiled. It’s a giant playground for stall-keepers’ kids. The deeper in I wade, the more curious the items become: knives and weapons, second-hand mattresses and live animals. The locals stop to stare at visitors in curiosity, but are very quick to return a big smile and laughter. A genuine smile is a universal language.
Evenings in the highlands can be chilly so warm clothing is necessary, but it is a refreshing breather from the stifling heat and humidity.
Semi-arid South
Deeper South, heading towards Isalo National Park via Fianarantsoa, scenes morph again into semi-arid landscapes of spiny bush and lunar desert landscapes. The route is notorious for it’s poor roads, with gigantic potholes in places, making for a physically exhausting drive. We pass several overturned lorries and passenger buses. I feel sorry for drivers who face this whilst attempting to show people their country and keep visitors’ spirits up. Bear this in mind and help them along the way by being kind.
The South is a completely contrasting picture. Scenes of desperation and desolation become the norm. The blinding poverty is heartbreaking and very real. Tradition dominates life in the South. People live according to ancient traditions and beliefs. The number 7 is very prosperous for the Malagasy and some rural women still live by the belief that to bear 7 daughters and 7 sons each would be a blessing. This tradition is omnipresent, as little children are everywhere, occupying themselves in dusty soil in tattered clothing and barefoot, playing outside single-room thatched huts. Their faces light up on seeing a visitor. Elderly men and teenage boys can be seen lugging rickshaws-a-pied, where they carry passengers on wooden carts with two back wheels, whilst holding two protruding wooden pillars and running with their legs. It is literally a running rickshaw. The rickshaw-runners are painfully skinny from arduous labor, their faces worn from the pain and sweat.
Vanilla and chocolate, Madagascan exports
Agriculture is a predominant lifeline throughout the country. Stepped rice paddy fields dot hilltops and mountains, making striking scenery, swirling across heights and depths. During rainy season, rice is planted but through the dry season, potatoes are preferred or other crops requiring little water. Madagascar’s rice is export quality and the best grade is sold straight off to other countries. The nation is also known for it’s vanilla and clove plantations, mostly lining the North-west, as well as cocoa and coffee beans. Few people know this but Madagascar does have some vineyards in the south. Wine-tasting is a fun activity, though the product isn’t quite upto the grade.
Southern scenes
Drives are long and faces through the window scream abject poverty and helplessness. Yet, the people of Madagascar are genuinely warm and welcoming. As we pass through the heart of this reality, Tanjona tells me of a Malagasy tradition in which any traveler journeying long distance can knock on any stranger’s door in the countryside to ask for a place to sleep, and would be taken in. The people are gentle. The gut-wrenching reality of their situation is made worse by the fact there is no help. For this reason, they burn the precious forests of Madagascar, for charcoal and to sell as firewood. When simply surviving becomes a daily priority, there can be no blame.
Precious little remains of Madagascar’s rainforests and primary forest. The rest has been deforested and the land plundered to dearth by a process called ‘Slash and Burn.’ It involves the burning and felling of trees for use as charcoal and persistently scorching the land to encourage new growth for rice plantations, leaving the soil deplete of nutrients and productivity. It is so grave that the island is now nicknamed ‘Red Island’ due to the red soil resulting directly from nutrient depletion.
Adding another layer, folkloric customs and traditions are deeply ingrained in the people. In a culture where traditions are passed down through generations with fierce and loyal pride, effecting change through education takes time, as people need to be convinced of the need for it before overhauling their entire way of living for generations. In most cultures, change arises through TV and radio, where new ideas are introduced to rural communities. But here, with many villages running on little or no electricity, where some women walk 10kms to fetch water, babies and mothers regularly die during childbirth and healthcare is, if lucky, a visit to the village herbal doctor, the prospect of TV and radio is alien. So time remains frozen and tradition dominates lifestyle.
As it stands, with little protection for the people or the place, the future of Madagascar appears murky. Any further loss of wildlife, rainforest and human life would be nothing but the greatest tragedy.
Facing the future
Tourism is Madagascar’s greatest potential. Naturally blessed with a wealth of unique endemic wildlife, breathtaking landscapes and every pre-requisite for any traveller, Madagascar could easily be an eco-tourism world leader. It already has a niche USP that other countries are forced to eek out through expensive marketing companies and campaigns. If wildlife tourism was prioritized, it could single-handedly save the 90% endemic wildlife, flora & fauna and in turn human life. As it stands, the country is steaming towards the opposite – degradation. With little clear lead from official powers, when a majority of primary forest is already gone, and bleak political prospects, the future is unstable. But hope is far from lost.
Something spectacular has begun to sprout on the ground. Amongst the growing ‘middle-class,’ the minority of people who have had a chance to learn, study and understand the issues at heart, there is an apparent overhauling of small localities.
I visit Anja Reserve in Ambalavao, a community-run reserve managed by a board of local people who closely guard the preservation and protection of a 30-hectare area of protected land, home to ring-tailed lemurs. Members of the local community have been chosen to manage natural resources. They also develop community projects to teach the people why and how to preserve the protected land. Anja reserve is the most visited community-managed reserve. Visitor spending directly benefits the community and nature. This is a powerful example of a success story.
Pride of the people
There is hope. I see hope in the likes of my guides and drivers. They strive to educate themselves and their families. Tanjona, my talented driver-guide has saved $40 and asks me to post him an English dictionary. His language skills are already excellent and I’m touched by his hunger for knowledge and learning. He has a little library at home and treasures quality books. He watches English movies and listens to 80s music to improve his language. Passing through deeply tribal southern Madagascar, listening to John Lennon, becomes surprisingly meaningful!
Tanjona takes great pleasure in his country, regaling me with stories and tales of each principality we pass, adding to my voyage a verse of history, lore and unique detail. His wife studies German at university. She hopes to use it for tourism. When I ask how tough things must be with only 1 income, he’s optimistic as he replies, ‘it will benefit our future.’ They send their child to private school, investing in bettering her future. It’s a touching tale of optimism. Grassroots changes such as these, hopefully, can one day make a difference.
My second guide, Franco, describes being away from home and away from his wife and baby son. Yet nothing is too much, no request too great and he works diligently at all hours to showcase the best of his nation. If hope exists, it is in the eyes and hearts of these people, the ‘middle class’ in a country where there is no middle-class. Hope begins with them and will undoubtedly rise through future generations.
The humble zebu
Heading deeper south, guns, knives and swords are common accessories in the streets. They’re a necessity for personal protection. It’s normal to wander past villagers armed with these weapons. They are mostly zebu-keepers. Zebu is the iconic cow of Madagascar, distinguished by a hump on it’s back. The Bara and Betsileo tribes mostly inhabit the south. They are two of 18 ethnic tribes of Madagascar, each with it’s own complex set of cultures and customs. The Bara tribespeople consider riches in Zebu, not money. The humble Zebu is the crux of southern life, used for food and sacrificial offering during celebrations, to toil and plough the fields and to transport goods and people. Each Zebu is worth 1 million Ariary, equivalent to approx. €350. In a country where the majority lives in abject poverty, this is invaluable.
A Bara tribesman I hear about in Isalo has 2000 Zebu, earning him 7 wives, each living in a different village and answerable to the first Chief wife. But, more Zebu equals more problems. Zebu-stealing is an ingrained aspect of Bara culture, in which a man has to steal another man’s zebu to display his worth at his coming of age or before getting married. Now, despite being made illegal, Zebu stealers are a real threat and come armed with guns and knives. The local police get involved and those traced would not be spared. But to be imprisoned for zebu-stealing is considered an honour. On guided walks through the desert landscapes of the south, is not unusual to come across farmers with police on the hunt for their stolen zebu. Livelihoods are destroyed through this act, but with it’s roots in heritage, there is no stopping it.
Many villagers cannot afford to buy their own Zebu. This is where a novel loan company has flourished, loaning out zebu for short and long-term rentals, charging affordable pay-back rates. Tanjona explains how this is transforming the face of rural society and pulling many out of the depths of poverty. Zebu is the currency of life in southern Madagascar.
Curious cultural traditions
Brightly-coloured tombs also intersperse the semi-arid landscapes. To point at tombs with a finger is forbidden and believed to bring severe bad luck, so I’m warned. Some tombs are elaborately painted and surrounded by Zebu horns and skulls, reflecting the hierarchy or social standing of the person. Others are modest boxes. These tombs are a direct link between the living and the dead. They reflect the Malagasy belief in the dead being the highest authoritative member of a family, presiding over the future of the family and every major decision. The culture revolves around constant revering and consulting with the dead. A major tradition in Malagasy tribal culture is ‘Famadihana,’ or the exhumation of bones. When a family is financially able, they must dig up and unwrap the bones of a passed loved one. The process involves washing their bones in the river, drying them and re-dressing in a shroud. A huge celebration ensues, involving abundant rum, music and dancing. The bones are then put back in a tomb and never touched again. Not doing this is considered ‘fady’ or taboo.
Circumcision is the other major celebration, likely owing to the arrival of Arab traders around 800-900 A.D. Young boys, aged around two, must have their foreskin removed. This is usually done at home using a sterilized knife and medicinal plant leaves to stop the bleeding. The strangest act involves the grandfather having to eat the skin with a piece of banana, as per tradition. It is a significant rite of passage and a boy who is not circumcised can never marry. A child who passes away before having it done cannot be buried in the family tomb. The event is also marked by riotous celebrations and is incredible to watch, where visiting ‘Vaza’ (foreigners) are often asked to join the dancing. These two celebrations take place from July to September.
The road to Isalo
Isalo National Park is a world apart. On the road south, we come across snakes of various sizes sunning themselves on the single baking black tarmac road. Some have been run over. The surrounding scene is of vast bleached grasslands with dusty sandy foundations. Few families live here, with very little, amidst startling isolation and the harshness of desert. It’s here that I meet a young woman walking barefoot in beautiful bright fabrics, a striking vision against the blonde grass. I stop to talk to her and she proudly shows off her 1-month-old daughter, wrapped in her arms. She shares the same name as my guide. She is walking home to her village, several kilometers off-road in the savannah. I ask about the snakes and scorpions to be told that their feet have developed a thick skin, relatively immune to stings. But villagers do get bitten from time to time.
Jurassic Park
Isalo National Park is home to stunning scenery, seen nowhere else in Madagascar. Walking into the original Jurassic Park, towering sandstone spires nestle leaping canyons along wildly eroded cragged plateaus, all dating to the Jurassic era. Steep ridges are riddled with jagged edges and sudden drops. Hiking the massif uncovers dramatic warped rock formations and surprising wildlife amidst the barren desert wonderland. The dry heat is tough and 2 liters of drinking water in my backpack soon disappear. Climbing to the peak of a ridge offers panoramic vistas and a gentle breeze, overlooking the desert-scape akin to Petra in Jordan or Arizona’s Grand Canyon. Descending deeper into the gorges, my guide points out giant aloe plants, thriving with their deep green leaves and orange tips, and elephant’s foot plants ‘Pakipod’ cradled in rock-face, hiding from the heat. He digs a stick in the sand, unearthing a scorpion, discovers the shimmering pink jewel chameleon and finds a giant male stick insect, indistinguishable from the wiry plant it inhabits. Lowering into gorges, I’m delighted to see a tumbling waterfall and natural tropical pools, which make for a refreshingly cool dip. As we hike further, the scenery evolves to lush greenery clinging to slanting slopes; home to the ring-tailed lemur, Verreaux’s sifaka and brown lemurs. As we hit deciduous rocky boulders at a higher level, we spot the ring-tails. They’re scaling a sheer rock face, striking against the granitic boulders with their long bushy black-and-white striped tail outsizing their body. Remaining in the same position for a while, they allow us a closer look. Their devil-red eyeballs hold my gaze as I observe. The ring-tailed lemurs are found relatively low to ground in comparison to white Verreaux’s sifaka, which we spot higher up on tree branches. Getting close makes them twitchy and they bolt.
Tucked away up a steep embankment, my guide shows me a colorful tomb. Isalo is a sacred spot for the Bara tribe, who mark these burial sites with mounds of stones. They hide tombs in crevices on treacherously high ledges, sometimes losing their own life in the process.
By sunset, the famous Window of Isalo is an idyllic spot to watch the sun sink through a natural rock formation, surrounded by captivating desert. Take a bottle of wine and sip it amidst the surrounding oasis of silence, as the landscape transcends spring shades of marshmallow pink.
Critically endangered
Sportive lemurs are critically endangered and rare sightings. Zombitse National Park is on the road East. The primary forest is home to several of the 24 species of sportive lemur. Tracking them, I have two local guides. Within the first hour, we trace the Habbard Sportive lemur burrowed into the fork of a tree. Insanely loveable and cross-eyed, the Habbard struggles to focus its eyes, scrambling them vaguely in our direction. As they’re nocturnal, daytime vision is poor. Bulging marigold pupils give them a clumsy and innocent look. They are undeniably the cutest lemurs and I can’t help but giggle watching them. Later, we find the Zombitse sportive lemur nuzzled in a similar position. The name is utterly uncharacteristic as it is not sportive at all, rather entirely sedentary. Though the Bamboo lemurs in Andasibe are classically beautiful, the sportive lemurs are comical and endearing, and to see them feels an honour.
Bounty of beaches: the Indian Ocean
End any trip to Madagascar on one of the sumptuously wild and exotic beaches for a few days. In the east of the island, many stop at Toliara’s Ifaty beach. With 5000km of coastline, 450km of barrier reef & 250 islands, you’re spoiled for choice. I opt to fly far North to Nosy Be, where an onward hour and half’s speedboat journey through the sea leaves me marooned on a private island in the midst of the Indian Ocean.
Private island amidst the Mitsio Archipelago
The Constance Tsarabanjina is the most exquisite private island in Madagascar. It is authentic barefoot luxury, with an emphasis on reconnection with nature and comfort. The sandbar is a tiny haven, a fleck in the water, invisible from the mainland and surrounded by coral reef for endless diving and snorkelling with rays, grey and white dotted sharks, turtles and a rainbow palette of fish. Walk straight into the beach of a postcard, with individual plush beachfront bungalows replete with hammock, sound system and outdoor terrace. The sandbar and restaurant have a barefoot policy, with scrumptious buffet luncheons and a la carte dinners of fresh ingredients and seafood, on a luxury all-inclusive plan. Tsarabanjina means ‘beautiful to see’ and I see why on the approach by boat, as a glorious milky island appears like a hologram out of the ocean. Get closer to receive the warmest welcome of staff lined up on the beach, waving, decked in an array of pretty local ‘lamba’ sarongs.
I idle away hours reading in my hammock or being kneaded to the motion of the ocean at the rustic beachfront spa and also get off-island to sail the Mitsio archipelago on the Constance yacht. The surroundings encompass inhabited Mitsio island and uninhabited islands, where I snorkel. A hidden highlight of this archipelago is ‘Organ Pipes,’ Madagascar’s very own version of Ireland’s Unesco site, Giant’s Causeway. But here, it is on an islet in the Indian Ocean! Tubular solid volcanic sediments shoot into the sky forming a vertical wall, resulting from a sudden volcanic eruption and rapid sedimentation. Sprouting vertically from a crevice in the burnt orange ‘pipes,’ I spot a lone leafy green tree jutting out mid-air from this remote untouched island. It’s also a great place to seek out fossilised remains dating back 400 million years. The archipelago is a worthwhile half-day visit, easily seen by boat from Constance Tsarabanjina. Evenings on the island are entertaining, with sunset cocktails on a hilltop, casual gatherings at the beach for local dance and music performances and an evening of learning about the culture and history of Madagascar, for those who directly visit the island. At certain times of year, this is a great place to see breaching humpback whales.
Capital of culture, Antananarivo
Utterly rested after a few days of idyllic sea and sand, it’s a flight back to the capital, Antananarivo, a bubbly and energetic city. Though heaving with crowds, it has an architecturally stunning upper town and midtown, with crumbling colonial French-style properties painted in pastel hues. The ghosts of the French colonial era also live on in the food, with patisseries and coffees widely available in cute cafes. French is the 2nd language, after Malagasy. I speak it throughout the city, from flagging the white Citroen-taxis to conversing with staff at the charming and elegant Hotel Pavillon de L’Emyrne. The characteristic boutique hotel oozes charisma, set in a classic colonial midtown street. The flawless service matches the setting. Perched on top of a hill, the views over the city are glorious. Every evening, guests can choose from a free massage or beauty treatment daily. My suite comes with abundant space; the bathroom is furnished with a big tub and outdoor terrace exquisitely decked for chilled out evenings with a bottle of wine, though preferably not Madagascan. Pavillon de L’Emyrne breakfasts are intimate and informal, in a pretty conservatory covered in scented bougainvillea. Nearby, I find several excellent restaurants, my favourite being La Boussole. It is run by a lady from La Reunion Island and is clearly her pride and joy, serving delicious world cuisine in a sophisticated setting. Across the road, I visit a tiny boutique shop, ‘Parfum de Madagascar’ selling select locally-made clothing, jewellery and organic spices, including heavenly-perfumed vanilla. I find the people very welcoming and kind. In fact, after my purchases, I stop at a nearby café where the exasperated shopkeeper stumbles in looking for me. She realised she had overcharged me by 6,000 Ariary, the equivalent to £1 and was frantic to return it. Moments like this echo an entire nation. The Queen’s Palace and King’s Palace, latter a Unesco world heritage site, are richly historic sights in and around Antananarivo. Chocolate-lovers cannot afford to miss ‘La Chocolatiere’ café and shop, home to the world-famous Madagascan Robert chocolate. As I sit simultaneously sipping a hot chocolate, eating chocolate cake and gorging chocolate truffles, I couldn’t think of a sweeter ending to a simply unforgettable Madagascan adventure of a lifetime.
Why visit now?
Madagascar is a complete one-off. No other place compares. I reflect on what it means to take a journey of a lifetime. Madagascar captivates all the senses, including the 6th spiritual sense. It transcends beyond travel experience to life-changing voyage. That, to a seasoned traveller, is priceless.
