Madagascar - Part 1 by Les

The flight from Johannesburg to Antananaivo, the main city in Madagascar (called Tanna by the locals) took about three hours and we all slept through most of it.  The glimpses we got of the island as we approached were of brown and green rolling hills with small rectangular dwellings with metal or thatched roofs.  Much of the land was neatly partitioned for agriculture.

During the eight hour flight from Sao Paolo to J-Berg Susie and I were not able to sleep, despite that being the most comfortable plane we had been on thus far.  Upon landing at the small airport our 50 or so fellow passengers proceeded to leap up and stampede the isle.  This is always a fascination to me when people leap up to crowd about in the isle the second the seat belt sign goes off.  It still takes some time to secure the plane and open the door, during which time the seat leapers just jostle into one another like cattle in the chute.  We were in row four but several of the herd behind us were able to push by before we could wrestle into the isle to exit once the door was opened.

Once inside the reason for the stampede became apparent.   There was a one room reception area for the passengers devoid of anything other than a few stand up tables with forms on them.  There were three exits booths to the luggage claim.   One said “Residents”, one said “With Visa,” and one said “No Visa.”   In addition, a lady sat behind a table with a glass window with a sign that said Visa Tariff.  We had been told that all visitors to Madagascar would be issued a Visa upon landing.  The only other person in the room was some sort of security person that told me I could not take a picture of the entry because it was “dangerous.”   With no direction the herd immediately frenzied around the tables and filled out the forms.  Not knowing where to go next, some stood in the tariff line, which included us, while others choose one of the three exist booths.  While in the tariff line, we secured some of the small papers and filled them out- with the usual requested information about our visit.  But when we neared the front of the line we noticed that everyone had an additional form in hand.  With visions of The Amazing Race, we frantically searched for the additional form which was palm sized, and finally found it as an attachment in the back pages of a small informational brochure about the country!  Who knew?  By now we were dead last in the tariff line, and after showing the little lady in the booth our properly filled out documentation, she said in broken English that we did not need a visa for visits of thirty days or less.  Sigh. 



Les & Noa with our driver/guide Franckie



By this time all of the other herd members had proceeded to previously unseen octagonal booth off to the side that was manned by only two Madagascar agents.  This did not stop the head from crowding around all eight windows and pressing close to each other in hopes of being noticed by the two overburdened men and signaled to the front.  Realizing that we had completely blown this leg of the race, we patiently stood in the back of the line and helplessly watched our luggage go round and round the carosel in the baggage claim.  

A small eternity later we made it through and took our first steps in the freedom that was Madagascar.  There we met our diver for the next few days, Frankie.  As we were ushered to the car by Frankie and a small army of porters hoping to share a tip for holding a hand on our bag cart that Noa was pushing, Frankie asked what had happened to us in the terminal.  We could only laugh.

Now that we were on the road we noticed several things about Madagascar.  First, the roads were all littered with pot holes and very narrow, with just enough room for two cars.  Second, these roads were not only for the cars, but were shared with pedestrians, and the occasional bicyclist, which made up the entire Madagasi population.  Very few people in Madagascar own a vehicle.  There were also human and oxen drawn carts loaded with goods.  The ensuing four hour drive could only be categorized as a “bee dance” in which the cars, pedestrians, oxen, heavy trucks, and mini- buses all wove in and out of one another with just inches to spare.  The pedestrians, often with full water buckets or sacks of coal on their heads, waited until the very last instant to step aside from the rapidly approaching cars.  In the end when it became apparent that none of the above was ever injured, the bee dance was kind of mesmerizing.  I asked Frankie if he had ever run into anyone, or witnessed an accident.  He just laughed.

We also noticed that the people did not look “African” at all, and had a much more Malaysian look.  We found out that the original population of Madagascar were transplants from Micronesia.  The last thing we noticed was the health and happiness of the people.  If it is possible to generalize an entire population- all seemed fit, slender, and wore smiles as they went about their daily business, although it was obvious that there were not a lot of monetary wealth...so many were barefoot.  The public school children all wore blue shirts and waved happily yelling “halloooww” as we went by.  

What was completely missing were the obese people so ubiquitous in the developed countries.  What was also missing were any hints of fast food chains.  Frankie said that there were no McDonalds, no KFCs, Taco Bells, or Pizza Huts.  What we did see was a nation of healthy people that exercised every day- walking to work or school, and that lived off of fresh fruit, grain, vegetables, and meats purchased each day at the street markets.   Much of the population makes due without electricity, and consequently goes to sleep soon after the sun goes down while waking with the sun in the morning.  In comparing this healthy people to the largely overweight western society and fast food diet, one can’t help but wonder about the correlations.