The people in this part of the country, who are called Taisàka, all wear mats, as do the Tanàla and the Taimòro. To fasten the mat sack about their waists, they use a girdle of bark cloth. Some of this cloth (called fànto) is made by stripping off the bark of certain trees, so that the whole comes off in one piece, forming a kind of long bag, but open at each end. Another kind is made in a sheet of about six feet long by four wide. It is prepared by being hammered for a considerable time with a wooden mallet, the face of which is cut in cross lines. This is chiefly women’s work. Very few of the people had any garment made of woven cloth, indeed they seem to have little, if any, knowledge of spinning or weaving. On the other hand, they are clever in straw-work and in manufacturing mats and baskets.
TAISÀKA HOUSES
Their houses are very small, made of a slight framework and filled in with the midrib of the leaves of the traveller’s tree in the same way that the zozòro (papyrus) is used in Imèrina, and looking almost exactly like zozòro. These leaf-stalks, which are called falàfa, are fixed together on long fine twigs so as to make a kind of stiff mat, the triangular stems easily fitting in alternately. These mats are the ordinary mattress, and are used in various other ways. One of them forms the door on either side of the house, being shifted to one side or another as required, and is kept from falling by sliding within a pole hung from the framework. The flooring, which is always raised above the ground, is made of the bark of the traveller’s tree, pressed flat so as to form a rough kind of boarding; while the thatch of every house is the leaves of the same tree, which forms a neat and fairly durable covering. Here also, as among the other coast tribes which we have seen, the traveller’s tree might be called with equal or greater propriety, “the builder’s tree.” The hearth is at one end of the house, in the centre, with a strong square framework above it, having two or three rows of shelves. The tràno àmbo, or elevated house for storing rice, seems common to every tribe we have visited since leaving the Bétsiléo province. The villages here are arranged in groups of from two to half-a-dozen in a line, and with only a small space between each group.
The rice-fields in this flat swampy district have a very different appearance to those in Imèrina or Bétsiléo; they are like immense pits, in some places dug out to some depth in the sides of the low elevations. The people do not transplant their rice, as do those of the central provinces, but reap it where it has been sown. We continually came across traces of volcanic action; ancient streams of lava, conical-shaped hills and, on the coast, reefs of basalt rock, gradually being broken up by the action of the waves. All this showed that the great groups of extinct volcanoes in the central provinces had their counterpart in these southern regions of the island. Another interesting fact was, that we found unmistakable signs also of Secondary rocks here on the coast, in stratified sandstone tilted up at a very high angle.
A MILITARY ESCORT
A day and a half’s journey from Vangàindràno brought us to another Hova military post, a town called Ankàrana, which is situated on a ridge about four hundred feet above the general level of the surrounding country, forming a striking feature in the landscape. Ascending a slippery and steep road in the red clay, I found myself at one o’clock on the top of the ridge and close to the stockaded ròva, or Hova fort, a much larger place than I had expected to see, as hardly anything of the town could be seen from below. Mr Street, being ill with fever, had gone on before, while I brought up the rear. Coming to the gate of the stockade, my men were about to take me in at once, but the people near requested me to stop, as the officers were coming out to escort me in. This I rather unwillingly did, as a very heavy shower came on just then. Presently the rolling of drums announced their approach. First came a file of soldiers, then a number of officers, then the lieutenant-governor in palanquin, and then the governor in ditto, a little active old man in regimental red coat and cocked hat. They all came forward and shook hands, and evidently it was intended that the queen should be saluted and polite speeches made; but the rain pelted down so furiously just then that they thought better of it, and we made our way through the double stockade into the Hova town with its lines of houses, and then into an inner stockade enclosing the government house and flagstaff and several large houses. We took shelter under the raised verandah of one of these, while a dozen unfortunate individuals, soldiers and petty officers, had to stand out in the pouring rain and “present arms,” “support arms,” etc., and then, of course, came inquiries after the queen and the great people at their capital.
The governor then led me into the temporary làpa, a large rough-looking room, where was a table spread with dishes, plates, etc. He apologised for there being no meal ready for us, as our coming was unexpected, but wine and biscuits were brought and we drank the queen’s health, and they drank ours, a flourish of music and drums following each toast. This extreme politeness, so soon after the marked discourtesy shown us at Vangàindràno, astonished and amused me not a little. I was gravely consulted as to whether the royal flag might not be hauled down, as the day was so wet; I accordingly graciously signified my approval of their doing so. As soon as possible, I intimated that I would like to go and see my friend and companion. The governor leading the way, I was taken to a house at the far end of the enclosure, where I found Mr Street in bed and very unwell. But the house was large and dry, a fire was burning on the hearth, and we were glad to get our wet things dried. Several of our men were also ill with fever, so I had my hands pretty full with dispensing medicine and nursing. Besides this, numerous callers had to be talked with and presents received.
A NOISY DINNER
A good part of the following day was occupied in conversation with the native pastors, examining the school, teaching, singing, etc. But soon after four o’clock in the afternoon the sound of music and drumming in the courtyard told us that the time was approaching for the feast they were going to give us, and presently the governor and all his people came to fetch us. My companion was unable to go, but I was led by the hand and had to receive all the honours. In the open central space all the military force of the town, about five and twenty soldiers, was drawn up, and the royal flag was flying. On one side the ladies, the wives and daughters of the officers, were arranged, dressed in their best; on the other side were row after row of pots with fires under them, where the feast was being cooked. There was a terrible din of drumming and music going on. After a prayer, salutes, speech-making, including a long flourish of our honour, and presentation of another immense heap of provisions, I was again taken by the hand, and led into the government house for the repast. I should add that the governor also gave us ten dollars for vàtsy (food by the way), counting them into my hand in English numbers.
A LONG MENU