FIRST VIEW OF THE CAPITAL
Early on Tuesday morning, with a glad heart I took my seat in my palanquin, rejoiced to think that this was the last stage in my long journey. About three-quarters of an hour after leaving Ambàtomànga we caught our first sight of the capital, still twelve or fourteen miles distant, and I could not but be struck by its size and fine situation, a much larger city than I had expected, built on the summit and slopes of a lofty rocky hill some two miles long from north to south, which was covered with dark-looking houses. In the centre stood conspicuous the great bulk of the chief palace and its smaller neighbour, their arched verandahs and steep roofs, all painted white, and shining in the morning sun, towering over every other object. It was a memorable moment to me, as I thought of what had happened in Antanànarìvo within the last quarter-century, and that my work was to raise lasting memorials to the brave Malagasy who had suffered and died for their faith.
On we went over the long rolling moor-like hills, losing sight of the city every now and then, and presently coming in view of it again as we mounted the ridges; and every half-hour brought out more of the details of the place and revealed its masses of dark houses, clustered on the slopes of the rocky hill. Several streams we crossed by means of stone arched bridges, and I was struck by the number of villages to be seen in every direction, many of them enclosed in high walls made of red clay, laid with care in regular courses and apparently hard and durable. The houses were all built of the same material, and many of them were enclosed in circular and others in square courtyards with gateways. Many of the villages were surrounded with deep fosses, sometimes two and even three yards deep, now generally filled with bananas, peach and other fruit trees, and some with walls and stone gateways, giving one the impression that there must have formerly been much internal warfare to need such elaborate defences. This indeed was the case before Imèrina was governed by one sovereign, about a hundred years ago.
LOCUSTS
Within a mile or two of the city we passed for a quarter of an hour through a perfect cloud of locusts, which covered the ground and filled the air. At a distance these insects appeared like a low-lying cloud of dust; and when near to one, and seen in certain directions, the sun shining on their wings gave them almost the appearance of a snow shower. I began to realise one of the plagues of Egypt. Many varieties of locust are common in Madagascar, and occasionally they do great damage to the crops. The Malagasy, however, make use of them for food, and when a cloud of them appears, men, women and children are all out catching them; and for a few days afterwards great brown heaps of them are to be seen at all the little wayside shops. They are said to taste something like shrimps, without any insides; but I must confess I never brought myself to taste them, for they are anything but inviting in appearance.
At length I was carried into a compound near the foot of the city hill, and after some delay was met by one of the L.M.S. missionaries and conducted by a most difficult and breakneck path up into the triangular central space called Andohàlo. At the north-eastern corner of this space was the dispensary and dwelling of our good medical missionary, Dr Davidson, from whom and Mrs Davidson I received a hearty welcome, and in a short time also from the rest of the missionary brethren. With a glad and thankful heart I found myself in the capital of Madagascar, with cheerful anticipations of being able to do something in the service of Him who had protected me thus far, and of helping in various ways the Malagasy people.
CHAPTER VI
THE CHANGING MONTHS IN IMÈRINA: CLIMATE, VEGETATION AND LIVING CREATURES OF THE INTERIOR
MY object in these chapters is to describe, as vividly as I am able, the varied aspects of the different months throughout the year in this central province of Imèrina, as they present themselves to anyone who lives in the capital city of Antanànarìvo, and is frequently travelling in the country around it. I want to show the variety of nature during the changing seasons, as the result of the heat or cold, and of the moisture or drought of the climate. And it must be remembered that although this central province of Madagascar is by several degrees well within the tropics, our climate for some months of the year is by no means the “tropical” one supposed in our ordinary English use of that word. On these interior highlands, from three to five thousand feet above the sea-level, the south-easterly winds blow from June to August with a keenness and force which it needs thick clothing to withstand, and makes a wood fire during the long evenings a very pleasant addition to the comforts of home life.
The seasons in the central regions of the island are practically only two: the hot and rainy period, from the beginning of November to the end of April; and the cool and dry period, during the other months, from May to October. The Malagasy are, however, accustomed to speak of four seasons of their year—viz. the Lòhataona—i.e. “head of the year”—during September and October, when the planting of the early rice is going on, and a few showers give promise of the coming rains; the Fàhavàratra—i.e. “thunder-time”—when severe storms of thunder and lightning are frequent, with heavy downpours of rain, from the early part of November to the end of February or into March; the Fàraràno—i.e. “last rains”—from the beginning of March and through April; and lastly, the Rinìnina—i.e. “time of bareness”—when the grass becomes dry and withered, from June to August.