CHAPTER XXII
TO SÀKALÀVA LAND AND THE NORTH-WEST
AS the contents of former chapters in this book show, I was able on various occasions during the first few years of residence in Madagascar to make journeys in different directions: from the east coast to the interior; from Imèrina to Antsihànaka; from Imèrina again to Bétsiléo and from thence to the south-east, visiting the Tanàla, the Taimòro, and other tribes in that part of the island, not to mention shorter journeys in the central province itself, to Itàsy and other places. But the north-west of the country and the districts occupied by the Sàkalàva people were still unknown to me, so I was glad when in 1877 there came the opportunity of traversing this portion of the great island.
For a long time past Tamatave had been—as it still is—the most frequented port of Madagascar, but the western ports, from their proximity to South Africa, were sure to increase in importance. Not very long before the above-mentioned date, the British India Steam Navigation Company had begun a service of steamers from Aden to Mozambique, touching at Mojangà, on the north-west coast, both on the outward and the return journeys. This appeared to give Europeans living here a good opportunity of reaching England, avoiding the unpleasant experience of the “bullocker” (see [Chapter II.]), between Tamatave and Port Louis, and taking a mail steamer direct from Madagascar. As we were leaving this country for Europe in September 1877, we determined to take this new route, which, although a little longer than that by Tamatave, was far less difficult, besides being partly by canoes, and the last day or two by a dhow, thus giving a pleasant variety to the journey. Our party consisted of seven, including my wife and self and three children—Willie, aged six; May, aged three, and a baby girl of ten months—Frank Briggs, about the same age as our boy, whom we were taking home (his father joined us a day or two later), and my former fellow-traveller, Mr Louis Street. I ought also to include a Mozambique nurse, one of those African slaves recently set free, in accordance with an agreement made between the English and the Malagasy governments.
We left Antanànarìvo on Thursday afternoon, 13th September, a large number of our missionary friends accompanying us for a distance out of the city, in fact as far as the banks of the Ikòpa, along which our route lay for several miles. Here one could not but be again impressed with the importance of these river banks in preserving the rice-fields from being flooded, and by the good work done by the old kings of Imèrina in embanking the river and thus turning marsh and bog into fruitful fields. Stopping at the L.M.S. mission station of Ambòhidratrìmo for the first night of our journey, we reached the station of Fihàonana in Vònizòngo on the second day, putting up at the manse, although the minister (Rev. T. T. Matthews) and his family were away from home. A short half-day’s ride brought us to a third mission station, that at Fierènana, where we had a Sunday’s rest before setting out on the unknown and principal portion of our journey. We stayed in the house which, a year or two before then, I had marked out for our friends, and recalled how I had taught Mrs Stribling to lay bricks, to bond together the corners of the walls, to manage the chimney breasts, etc., so that she became quite proficient and was able to teach the native workmen bricklaying, which was then to them an unknown art.
ATTRACTIONS OF A MARKET
On Monday morning we fairly started on our journey away from mission stations and Europeans. Two hours’ ride brought us to a large market where hundreds of people were assembled. We were set down and, before we knew what our men were about, were left almost without a bearer, it being too great a temptation for our fellows not to go into the thick of a market; and it was some little time before we could get hold of them to carry us into the village near the place. All this day’s journey was up a long wide valley enclosed by lines of hills, which gradually approached as we proceeded; and our evening halt was in a village covered with a layer of finely powdered cow-dung, although the village chapel, our usual inn on such journeys, provided a fairly comfortable resting-place for the night.
Outside this village the following morning we passed a shoe—or rather sandal—market, with scores of pairs of rough bullock-hide sandals for sale. I noticed also that everyone we passed carried a pair fastened to his or her burdens. Although we had to go up and, of course, down again, a long ascent, the route was less difficult and fatiguing than are those we often traversed in Imèrina, and far less so than the roads to the eastern coast through the forest. The increasing temperature told us that we were getting to a lower level; indeed all the western side of Madagascar is hotter than the eastern side, as it is deprived of the cool south-east trade-wind from the Indian Ocean. At the village where we stopped for the night, all the dwelling-houses were made of the gigantic bamboo-like grass called bàraràta, although the school church which served us for a lodging was of clay. The place had a double entrance gateway, one of them being a low narrow tunnel; and like most of these villages had a great quantity of cattle brought into it, for security every evening. In consequence, the whole place was covered with a foot or two of manure; and it was here that our friend, Mr Grainge, stopping for the night the previous year, had an experience which I will give in his own words.
AN UNSAVOURY CAMPING PLACE
“On entering,” he says, “we raised a considerable amount of dust and general astonishment; for wishing to pitch our tent inside the village, we set a few of our men to sweep away the filth from the cleanest spot we could select. You may guess the result. I first tried to get to the windward of the horrible cloud, but not being able to find that desirable quarter, as there happened to be no wind at the time, I sent a man to fetch water and then ran away until the atmosphere cleared. I had better have stopped, for, running through the first hole in the entrenchment of the village, I heard a cry of ‘Omby ó!’ (‘The cattle!’), and saw the head of an ox, closely followed by his tail, coming through the gap. As the people evidently expected to see me run, I stood my ground with true British pig-headedness and waited in the narrow ditch for the big beast to pass; but this one was closely followed by another, and that by a third—the whole of the herds were coming in for the night, and the fosse was soon as full of oxen as of dust. There was no escape; grunting, puffing, blowing, and bellowing, in they came, and with nothing but bare hands to smack them, I was hustled and jostled, bumped and butted, pushed and driven about, until, after three-quarters of an hour, I came out in company with the last calf, choked with dust, streaming with perspiration, and inwardly vowing that the very next time I heard the cry of ‘Omby ó!’ I would run for it, however undignified it might appear.”