FROM the Hova military post at Ambòhipèno, my companion and I made our way southwards, or rather first to the south-west, intending to visit the congregations at the three or four other important places in this district, as well as some of those in their vicinity. This part of Madagascar is a comparatively level or undulating country, extending for many miles between the forest-covered mountains and highlands to the west, and the ocean to the east, and only about three hundred to four hundred feet above sea-level. The native inhabitants were conquered—often with much cruelty and treachery—by the Hova, about fifty years previous to the date of our visit, but the cruelties of the wars carried on by the armies of Radàma I. and Rànavàlona I. were not forgotten. Over large districts, all the male population whose heads were above the armpits of the soldiers were ruthlessly shot down or speared, and the women and children taken as slaves, so that a large proportion of the slave population of Imèrina were descended from the tribes in these south-eastern districts. Since then, the people quietly submitted to the superior power; but these military posts were still maintained with governors, officers, and a small force of soldiers; and at most of them there was a considerable display of military authority, the gates being guarded, and the drum beaten at regular times every morning and evening. With one notable exception, we were everywhere received with the greatest kindness and respect. Abundant presents of food for us and our men were brought wherever we stopped; every facility was given us to speak to the people, and we were helped in every way to prosecute our journey.
The country between Ambòhipèno and Màhamànina was varied by low hills in all directions, and patches of wood, the traveller’s tree appearing in great numbers. The fruit of this beautiful tree was seen very conspicuously, forming three or four clusters of sheaths, about a dozen in each, much resembling the horns of a short-horned ox. These project from between the leaf-stalks, two in full bloom, and the other two generally dying off, or shedding the seeds, or rather the seed-pods. These are oval in shape, about two inches long, and yellow in colour, something like very large dates. These, when ripe, open and show each pod dividing into three parts, each of which is double, thus containing six rows of seeds about the size of a small bean. But what seems very curious is, that each seed is wrapped in a covering exactly like a small piece of blue silk with scalloped edges. I could not get these, however, without some difficulty from the ants, which swarmed all over trunk, leaf-stalks, and leaves, and resented vigorously any intrusion into their domains.
A LARGE GOVERNMENT HOUSE
At Màhamànina we found old friends in the governor and his wife. The làpa or government house was the largest and finest house I had ever seen in Madagascar, except the chief palace in the capital. It was three storeys high, entirely of timber, with stout verandah posts and very high-pitched roof; and everything here, gateways, guard-houses and stockades, was of the most substantial character, and made of fine massive timbers. After two days’ stay we proceeded farther south, and at the village where we encamped for the night we noticed a new style of coiffure among the women. Some of them had their hair done in two rows of little balls, while behind the head there was a piece of hollow wood ornamented with brass-headed nails and fastened into the hair. In this they kept their needles and other small property. Beads also were a good deal worn, and they had the lòndo or square mat on the back. At one village the young women wear round the breast a broad band of neatly woven straw, ornamented with a variety of patterns in different colours. It was rather difficult to understand the talk of the people; the nasal n, the peculiar intonation, and the pronouns and adverbs being all different from the Hova forms, made their conversation a puzzle to us. Some, if not all the people here, are a Sàkalàva colony from the west of the island.
EVIDENCE OF VOLCANIC ACTION
We came the next day to a very boggy and difficult rice-valley. Hereabouts the people make their vàlam-parìhy, or low earthen banks between the rice-fields, with a foundation of small stakes stuck in the ground, apparently to hold the earth together, as it seems less tenacious and binding than that in Imèrina. When a good deal of the earth has been washed away, it may easily be imagined that it is not a pleasant thing walking along these banks. During the afternoon we passed for some time over a slightly hollow tract thickly covered with rounded lumps of dark brown rock resembling slag or scoria, and full of holes like those produced by air-bubbles when the mass was in a state of fusion. These were of all sizes, from a yard or two to an inch in diameter, while the ground was covered with rounded pebbles of the same material, of the size of small beans. This must surely have been the bed of some ancient stream, long since diverted into other channels by subsequent elevation of the surface. But whence was this volcanic substance derived? For many miles westward there seems no broken or rugged surface, nor anything to indicate subterranean disturbance. Probably the great isolated mountain of Ivòhibé, which we have seen for several days far away to the west, is an extinct volcano, like so many hills farther north; and the ancient stream has at some remote period cut through a dyke of lava and brought the rolled and rounded fragments down its bed.
Walking about in the brilliant moonlight after our evening meal, in a short time there was quite a crowd gathered together to watch the extraordinary spectacle of two foreigners walking backwards and forwards for no discoverable earthly purpose. After a little while we stopped and began to talk to them, telling them of the old, but to them perfectly new, story of the glad tidings, and of that “faithful saying” which was worthy of their, and of all men’s, “acceptation.”
Travelling again towards the shore, we passed for some time through country which was like a beautiful shrubbery, with low trees, amongst which the vòavòntaka, with its perfectly globular green or yellow fruit, the size of a large orange, was very plentiful and conspicuous. There was also a tree, the karàbo, having enormous pods with seeds like beans, but from two to three inches in diameter. We passed fresh evidence of volcanic action in ancient streams of lava, with sand and dust from some long extinct crater. Stopping at sunset at a village called Màhavèlona, we found it, notwithstanding its promising name (“causing to live”), the filthiest spot we had seen in all our journey, quite worthy of the name given by a friend to a place he stopped at, of “the well-dunged village.” We could find no space where the tent could be pitched, and so began to look for a house. There was one in the centre of the village that looked of fair size, but the difficulty was, how to get to it, for it was surrounded for a considerable distance by a slough of mud and cow-dung that took our men nearly up to their knees. Happily there were a few stout planks lying near, and with these we made a causeway over the bog.
THE TRAVELLER’S TREE
The following day, while waiting in the belt of wood bordering the shore, we had an opportunity of testing the accuracy of accounts given of the water procurable from the traveller’s tree, about which, although backed by the authority of Mr Ellis, and an illustration in his “Three Visits to Madagascar,” I had always felt rather sceptical, as somewhat of “a traveller’s tale.” In fact I had never before seen the tree where plenty of good water was not to be had; but here there was none for several miles except the stagnant, brackish and offensive water of the lagoon. (Even my friend, Baron, says that the tree is always found where good water is procurable.) But we found that on piercing with a spear or a pointed stick the lower part of one of the leaf-stalks, where they all clasp one over the other, a small stream of water spurted out, from which one could drink to the full of good, cool, and sweet water. If one of the outer leaf-stalks was forcibly pulled down, a quantity of water gushed out, so that we afterwards filled a vessel with as much as we needed. On examining a section of one of the stalks, a hollow channel about half-an-inch in diameter is seen running all down the inner side of the stalk from the base of the leaf. The large cool surface of the leaves appears to collect the water condensed from the atmosphere, and this is conducted by the little channel downward to the base. The leaf-stalks are all full of cells and of water, like those of the banana. After three hours’ walking along the shore in the heavy sand, with a hot sun overhead, we were grateful to be able to draw from these numberless vegetable springs, and we thanked God for the traveller’s tree; we felt that its name was no misnomer. We afterwards found in a village not far away that small water-pots were placed in a hollow cut at the base of the leaves, so as to collect water for drinking and household use.