A NATIONAL ASSEMBLY
In the old times of Malagasy independence there were few more interesting scenes than that presented by a great national assembly or Kabàry. These were summoned when new laws were made, or a new government policy was announced, and also when war was imminent with France, both in 1882 and again in 1895. On such occasions the large triangular central space near the summit of the capital, called Andohàlo, was filled with many thousands of people from early morning. Lines of native troops kept open lanes for the advance of the queen’s representative, generally the Prime Minister, who was always attended by a number of officers in a variety of gorgeous uniforms. At the eastern or highest portion of Andohàlo a place was kept open for the royal messengers, whose approach was announced by the firing of cannon. Taking his stand so as to be seen by the vast assembly, the Prime Minister would draw his sword and commence the proceedings by turning towards the palace and giving the word of command for a royal salute, all the troops presenting arms, and all the cannon round the upper portion of the city being fired. The next officer in rank then took the word, and the troops all saluted the Prime Minister, who stood bareheaded, acknowledging the respect due to his high position. He then proceeded to give the royal message, or read the new laws, often with a great deal of eloquence, for the Malagasy are ready and clever speakers. At passages where the national pride or patriotism was touched, much enthusiastic response was often aroused, especially as each paragraph of the speech was followed by a question: “Fa tsy izày, va, ry ambànilànitra?” (“For is it not so, ye ‘under-the-heaven’?”) These questions were replied to with shouts of “Izày!” (“It is so!”) from the assembled multitude. But the greatest pitch of loyal enthusiasm was generally evoked by the chiefs of the different tribes, as they, one after another, replied to the queen’s message and gave assurances of obedience and loyalty. Surrounded by a small group of their fellow-clansmen, they would wind their làmba round their waists, brandish a spear, and at the conclusion of each part of their speech they also demanded: “Fa tsy izày va?” And sometimes the whole of the people would leap to their feet, the officers waving their swords, the soldiers tossing up their rifles, and the people dancing about in a perfect frenzy of excitement.
Hova Tombs Closed with Huge Stone Doors
The bare, rocky hills are characteristic of the interior of Madagascar
STONE GATEWAYS
We noticed just now the signs of the ancient villages and towns in the central province; but something may be added here as to the existing villages we see as we travel through it. The ancient towns were, as we have seen, all built for safety on the top of hills, and many of those now inhabited by the people are still so situated, although in several districts the French authorities have obliged them to leave the old sites and build their houses, with plenty of space round each, on the sides of the newly made roads. But a good number of the old style of village still remain, and it is these I want to describe. They mostly have deep fosses, cut in the hard red soil, surrounding them, about twenty to thirty feet across, and as many feet deep, sometimes still deeper; and before guns and cannons were brought into the country they must have formed very effective defences against an enemy, especially as there is often a double or even treble series of them. The gateways, sometimes three deep, are formed of stone, often in large slabs, and instead of a gate a great circular stone, eight or ten feet in diameter, was rolled across the opening and was fitted into rough grooves on either side, and wedged up with other stones inside the gate. I have slept in villages where it was necessary to call several men before one could leave in the morning, until they had answered our inquiry: “Who shall roll us away the stone?” In these fosses, which are of course always damp, with good soil, ferns and wild plants grow luxuriantly; and the bottom forms a plantation in which peach, banana, guava and other fruit trees are cultivated, as well as coffee, arums and a variety of vegetables. Tall trees often grow there, so that these hàdy or fosses are often the prettiest feature of the village. It must be added that the paths between and leading to the gateways are often winding, and formed by a thick mass of prickly plants.
In some parts of the central provinces the villages have no deep trenches round them, but they are protected by a dense and wide plantation of prickly pear. The thick, fleshy, twisted stems, the gaily tinted flowers, and even the fruits, are all armed with spines and stinging hairs; and it is no easy matter to get rid of the minute little needles, if they once get into one’s skin. So one sees that a thick hedge of prickly pear was a very effectual defence against enemies, especially since the people wore no shoes or any protection for legs and feet. In many places, instead of prickly pear, the fence round the village is made of tsiàfakòmby (“impassable by cattle”), a shrub with bright yellow flowers and full of hook-like prickles. In some cases, instead of a door at the gateway, a number of short poles are hung from a cross-piece at the top, which passes through a hole in each of them; and one has to hold up two or three poles in order to pass through.
Here, however, we are at last inside the village, and we see at once that it is a very different place from an English village, with the turnpike road passing through it, its trim houses and cottages, with neat gardens and flower-beds, its grey old church, and its churchyard with elms and yews overshadowing the graves.
A MALAGASY VILLAGE
There is nothing at all like this in our Malagasy village. There are no streets intersecting it, and the houses are built without much order, except in one point—namely, that they are almost all built north and south, and that they have their single door and window always on the west side, so as to be protected from the cold and keen south-east winds which blow over Imèrina during a great part of the year. The houses are mostly made of the hard red earth, laid in courses of a foot or so high. They are chiefly of one storey and of one room, but they generally have a floor in the roof, which is used for cooking; and, if of good size, they are sometimes divided into two rooms by rush and mat partitions. On the east of Imèrina, near the forest, the houses are made of rough wooden framing, filled up with bamboo or rush, and often plastered with cow-dung. In the neighbourhood of the capital, and indeed in most places, the houses are now often made of sun-dried bricks, in two storeys, with several rooms, and often with tiled roofs.