The beach, the fosa, and the flight that almost wasn’t
The last episode of my trip to Madagascar in April/May this year, volunteering on a charity project with Azafady. If you missed part 1 or part 2, catch up first!
New secondary school
On the 27th of April, we went down to the site of the new secondary school in Mahatalaky for it’s opening ceremony. Built by Azafady on previous schemes, it includes 3 stone classrooms, a well and latrines. In attendance were the village chief; the mayor; a delegation from the region chief; a delegation from Antananarivo; several gendarmes; most of Azafady’s Malagasy board; all of the volunteers and guides from our scheme; the ACP volunteers and guides from St Luce; Monica from the Peace Corps and hundreds of locals, including the pupils of all the nearby schools. First there were speeches from all the dignitaries. From the translations of our guides, I gathered they were rambling but profound, thanking everyone involved in the project. Later, a zebu was sacrificed to honour God, religion, ancestors and friends. While it seemed a little brutal to some, it’s important to accept cultural differences like this, and most of us watched, trying to get an idea of what was going on. With the ceremony over, we wandered around the site chatting to the locals and perusing the myriad stalls selling food, goods and gambling opportunities. At lunchtime all the Azafady volunteers and staff headed back to camp to share a buffet lunch and a toast, before the ACP group headed back to St Luce, and the staff to Fort Dauphin. That evening we short-termers and Pioneers went for dinner in town, tackling quite a bit of local rum and toasting (Samsara!).
The following morning we finished our work on the school, cementing the last of the foundations whilst excavating the edges, so the pupils could plant flowers around the building later. The school looked a lot better than when we first arrived, and we’d managed to fix a few desks inside also, so the kids would be able to carry on learning there for years to come. Zebu and rice for lunch, then we walked to the river to relax and attempt to wash off stubborn accumulations of paint, mud and concrete. The following day we headed back to Fort Dauphin in the camion, which for Bex and myself was nightmarish – overnight both of us had gotten violently ill.
Beach at Evatraha (photo by Bex Bishop)
With our construction project complete ahead of schedule, we took a two day break at a beach near Evatraha. Fortunately everyone was well enough to travel, and enjoyed the boat trip across the lake and down a river to the coast. Walking through the villages there, we noticed the greeting of the local kids had changed from “Bonjour Vazaha!” to “Bonbon Vazaha!”, probably due to the unfortunate influence of generous tourists. However, the beach we were camping at was secluded, empty, and stunning. We swam in the sea and messed around bouldering on the shore, actually enjoying the blistering heat for once, before having a party on the beach under the stars. On the second day we got up at 5 AM to watch the sun rise from the sea, scrambling over the rocks to a good spot, only to be thwarted by clouds obscuring most of the show. After breakfast we walked about an hour round the coast to Lokaro, an even more stunning beach accessible only via a submerged path, and spent some time checking out a small coral reef, along with some giant lizards.
Wednesday 2nd May was the last day of the short-term scheme with Madagascar, so Bex and I flew out of Fort Dauphin that afternoon, heading towards ‘Tana. The other two short-termers, James and Lloyd, were lucky enough to have a few more days off work to hang around. Our guides reminded us before we left of the local legend – anyone who drinks from the lake at Fort Dauphin will come back there someday, which we both wanted to do. Arriving in Fort Dauphin we stayed in the same hotel as the incoming journey a few weeks before, with Bex flying home the next morning, whilst I stayed on for a few days to look around the capital city. Unfortunately as I was sick again, I didn’t get up to much the first day, apart from a pool tournament with some of the hotel staff in the evening (Won 3, Lost 2!)
Chameleon at Croc Farm
Croc
The following morning I had a boxing lesson from Max, a friend of the hotel owner. As the number 2 on the national team, he was a talented boxer and also spoke very good English. He even successfully taught me a few moves, despite my complete lack of coordination and balance! In the afternoon Max, the hotel owner and I went to Croc Farm, a nearby zoo. We saw several species of chameleon, some geckos, lizards, boas, mantellas, frogs, lemurs, zebu and a pair of fossae. The fossa (or fosa in Malagasy), is the largest mammalian carnivore in Madagascar. Resembling cougars, the feral-looking creatures constantly prowled the edges of their enclosures, with an unmistakable gleam in their eyes as I stood nearby to take a photo. Further on I saw some radiated tortoises, stopping to admire the fantastic patterns on their shells whilst some white lemurs watched from the trees far above. Lastly, we came to the crocodiles which give the zoo its name, of which there are hundreds. The zoo helps to maintain a breeding population (crocodiles are hunted in some parts of Madagascar and facing severe habitat loss elsewhere), whilst also farming them for their meat, leather and bones, helping to fund the zoo. I’ve always found it impressive how fast something as large and cumbersome as a crocodile can move – while we watched, one of the loitering birds almost got minced.
Heading back to the hotel the car broke down again. Much to the amusement of passing locals, we got out to push, jogging up the hill in our flip-flops. Despite some impressive efforts though, the car refused to start, and we gave up when Max’s flip-flop broke for the 5th time. Instead, we walked to the bus stop, and got one of the local buses across the city. These minibuses operate all over Madagascar, driving fast and very cheap (our journey cost 300 Ariary each, that’s about 10p!), but are notorious hangouts for pickpockets. We got away with it just fine though, and it was an enjoyable experience to be using the same transport as the locals, no special privileges or considerations.
The day after I was due to fly home shortly after lunchtime. Unfortunately both of the hotel’s cars were away being fixed, so we didn’t have time to venture out beforehand. Two hours before my flight, still no car, but my hosts assured me one would come soon. An hour to go, still no car and I was starting to worry. With 45 minutes to go, a taxi finally turned up, and I arrived at the airport 35 minutes before my flight was due to depart. Check-in had closed, and I was told I’d missed my flight. Lucky for me I’d seen porters achieve all kinds of things hanging around in airports recently, so I figured I’d try that – better than spending upwards of a grand on new tickets. With a lot of pointing at my ticket and the help of a $20 bill, I got a porter, and as if by magic check-in reopened. At last, I was on my way home.