In one of the villages situated in the dense papyrus thickets which cover the marshes to the south of the lake, a place called Ànoròro, lives a strange tribe of people who seem quite isolated, not only in their dwelling-place, but also in their barbarous habits, from the other Sihànaka, and who speak a distinctly different dialect. In the rainy season, when the water rises, it enters into the houses of these people, and they then put together several layers of zozòro to form a kind of raft, so that as the water rises, this raft rises with it. Upon these zozòro they make their hearths and their beds; and there they live, rising and falling with the water, until the rainy season is over and they can live on the ground again. There are some curious stories about the simplicity of these people and their fathers, for they have no intercourse with anyone outside their village except on a certain day, when they go out to sell the fish they have caught. These people appear to have no fewer than eight unlucky days in each month, so that during more than a quarter of their time their superstition prevents them from going about or engaging in any work.
While speaking of unlucky days, it must be here noticed that all over Antsihànaka, Thursday is considered as fàdy (tabooed), and no one will work their rice-fields on that day. To build brick or clay houses is not permitted, death being the supposed penalty in case of transgression. To use hemp also, either in the form of cloth, or for smoking, is also universally tabooed. And besides the fàdy common to all Sihànaka, each family or clan has inherited a set of fàdy of its own, so that in addition to the universal abstinence from work on Thursday, there will be another day of the week on which nothing may be taken out of the house, the mats may not be swept, etc. Various foods and actions, too numerous to particularise, are fàdy to certain villages; while considered quite harmless in some places, they would bring all manner of evil in others.
On Thursday morning we set off again, and after two hours’ journey along the east edge of the plain, left it and made a straight course over the rice-fields for Ambàtondrazàka, leaving the great semicircular bay to the east of the town on our left. We got in at ten o’clock, all very wet with the heavy drizzle, but we were soon comfortably settled in the chapel, and got our things dried in the sun. We were again most kindly received by the officers and the congregation there, but we were obliged to leave soon, so as to get back to Antanànarìvo for some important engagements. On consultation with our bearers, we found that they were willing to make a long journey for a day or two (encouraged also thereto by promises of an extra day’s pay), so that we might get quickly over the uninhabited country, and reach Anjozòrobé by Saturday afternoon. So we left Ambàtondrazàka at midday and arrived at Màngantàny by sunset.
BEAUTY OF THE GRASS
Again were we charmed with the varied scenery of the route, and especially by the grasses, about which I have already spoken in this chapter, and which Dr Mullens graphically describes in a passage which may well conclude this account of our Antsihànaka journey. He says:
“I received the impression, afterwards repeatedly confirmed, that one of the most beautiful things to be found in Madagascar is its grass. It is beautiful in the sheltered valleys, where the tender blades, enriched by the dew and the rain, are refreshing to the eye, and yield like velvet to the foot. But here the grass is in its glory on the great hills. Burnt year after year by long sweeping fires, it springs up again with a profusion which clasps huge rocks within its soft embrace. Here it is short but strong; there it rises in vast tufts, each of which contains many thousand blades and covers many feet of ground; and yet again it spreads over vast patches of country in thick, tall masses, which tower above men’s heads, open their tinted blades to the warm sun, and wave their myriads of golden feathers in the summer winds. And it is when we contemplate this rich but simple provision of the divine bounty, when we watch these masses of slender blades, each tuft a forest in itself, clothing with beauty what man has neglected, laying up store for man and beast, opening their golden hair to the dews by night and the warm winds by day, and joyously revelling in the life given them from above, that then we can, with Mr Ruskin, appreciate and share the admiration and the praise given by the Psalmist to Him ‘Who maketh the grass to grow upon the mountains.’”[20]
“NO MAN’S LAND”
The following day we had a long journey over “no man’s land,” taking provisions with us and stopping to dine by a stream half-way, and reached Mandànivàtsy before nightfall. Saturday morning we crossed the high ridge in the forest, entering Imèrina again, and got to Anjozòrobé in good time in the afternoon. After the fatigues of the week we had another pleasant Sabbath, the first of the month, with the good people there. Monday evening brought us to Ambòhitrérana, and a couple of hours’ ride on Tuesday morning took us home to Ambòhimànga in time for breakfast; thus completing in little more than nineteen days our very interesting journey and exploration.
[18] Among the Sàkalàva, Alaotra means “ocean” or “sea,” so that it is the sea-like sheet of water. Cf. the use of Bahr among the Arabs, in Bahr-Tabariyeh, Sea of Tiberias, and Bahr-Lut, Sea of Lot—Dead Sea.