Thirty years in Madagascar

by Thomas T. Matthews

‘Well, sir,’ he said, ‘I know that God made me, and I feel quite certain that whoever wrote the Bible knew a great deal about me; for it describes my state and wants as a sinner so exactly, that no one who did not know me could have pictured them as the Bible does. Now I know that no Malagasy wrote the Bible, or could write it—you Europeans brought the book from over the sea; and what European there knows anything about me? You know more about me than any other European, but you did not write it; for the Bible was here years before you came. The way I explain it, sir, is this: God made me, and “holy men of God” wrote the Scriptures, “as they were moved by the Holy Ghost”—and that is how I find my low and lost estate and my wants so pictured there.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘that is very good; but suppose the European were to say: “My good old man, that may satisfy you, but that proves nothing, and certainly does not prove that the Bible is true or the Word of God. It is only a tissue of cunningly-devised fables, legal fictions, and falsehoods.” What would you say then, and how would you answer that, and prove that the Bible was trustworthy and the Word of God?’

‘The Bible a fable, full of fictions or falsehoods, sir,’ he said, ‘that can’t be; for the work it has already done in the land proves that it must be the truth of God; I don’t know what your European falsehoods, fables or folk-lore may be like; but the Scriptures are very different from our Malagasy ones. Our fables and folk-lore are filthy trash, and our lies as black as they can be made. I am an old man, but I never in my life knew a lie do any good. As our Malagasy proverbs say: “A falsehood may be very fat when it is uttered, but it becomes very lean when confronted.” “A lie is like the early rice—it serves the occasion, but does not hold out.” ‘No, sir,’ he said, ‘if we think of the good that the Bible has already done in this country, that seems to me to prove it to be God’s book; for no book could have done what it has done in this land unless it were the Word of God. What was this country before the Bible came? The people are not nearly so wise and good yet as we hope they may become; but a great change has come over them, and it is the Bible that has wrought that change. I remember what the past was, and I know what the present is, and so can compare them. The book that has brought this great change about cannot be a mere tissue of fables and folk-lore, fictions and falsehoods—it must be the Word of the Almighty to have wrought the miracles it has wrought in the land, and to have done the good that it has done. I could not believe that any collections of mere fables and folk-lore, or fictions and falsehoods, could be the cause of all the good that has been done.’

Razàka was quite right: the Bible is its own best witness, and the miracles it works, both at home and among the heathen, the best proof of its divine origin.

Razàka was born at Fìhàonana, Vònizòngo, probably about the year 1814, so that he had reached the ‘three score years and ten’ before he passed away. He was the only child of his parents, and hence was spoiled by them, and grew up a very wayward, wilful, wicked lad, the terror of the village and neighbourhood, and a great authority on heathen charms, especially love-philtres. His father being one of the head-men of the district, numbers of the people visited him to consult him with regard to district affairs; but such was their terror of the son, even as a lad, that they would not venture to enter the village if they knew he was in it.

As he grew up to manhood, his delights were cock-fighting, bull-fighting, and dìamànga, a kicking game. Some years after he was married, as his wife had no family, his father pressed him to take a second wife; but he declined to do so, not from any high or pure motives; but simply because he disliked the idea of having two wives. He came to be on friendly terms with several of the public criers, the men who used to proclaim in the fairs and district markets the royal proclamations, laws of the land, and edicts on the affairs of the kingdom, &c.; and, being a born speaker, he soon gained great power and made money. He was restless, however, and early got weary of the life he was living. God was preparing him for better and nobler work, although he knew it not.

About 1833 some of the early missionaries visited Vònizòngo, and a school was begun at Fìhàonana. Among the first scholars was a son of the chief, who was a friend of Razàka’s. One day this lad told him about the things they learned at school, and, among other things, told him the story of Adam and Eve. The following day he was told something that surprised him very much more than that, and arrested his attention as nothing before had ever done. He was told that God created the world and all in it, and that, although it is appointed once for all men to die, God would raise them to life again at the last day. Such truths laid hold of his heart and mind, agitated him, and set him a-thinking, and ultimately led him to attend the school himself, in order that he might learn more about the new Fìvavàhana—religion. Being sharp, he very soon learned to read, and to the end of his long life was a beautiful reader, and a most fluent and gifted speaker.

When the chief’s widow (who was the first convert to Christianity in Vònizòngo, and whose eldest son, Ràmitràha, the young chief, was afterwards burned at Fàravòhitra, Antanànarìvo, for his faith in Christ) heard that Razàka had entered the school, and had so quickly learned to read, she said to him: ‘I am so glad to hear that you have gone to school and learned to read, and that you will now be able to study the Word of God. Now don’t be wilful and wicked any more—for the Word of God forbids such things.’ These few words from that good woman seem to have done more to break Razàka’s proud spirit and humble him than all that had ever been said to him before. He obtained possession of a copy of the Psalms in Malagasy, and a translation of a catechism of the main doctrines of Christianity by the late Dr. Russell of Dundee, and of the very small hymn-book the converts then had—all of which he greatly prized. He afterwards obtained possession of several portions of the Scriptures.

Razàka retained a great affection for the memory of the early missionaries, especially for that of the Rev. D. Griffiths. I remember once calling to see him, and finding him sitting on the floor of his room writing, and by his side was a cut-glass ink-bottle, with a brass cover which screwed down on to the mouth. I asked him from whence he had obtained such a nice ink-bottle; and he answered that Mr. Griffiths had given it to him as a parting present. Wondering how he regarded such presents, I said to him: ‘You had better let me buy it from you, as it is just the sort of ink-bottle I want to carry with me on my journeys, and you can easily get another to serve your purpose for all the writing you have to do.’ He made me no answer, but went on to talk about something else. I returned to the subject, but he again evaded giving me an answer. I then said: ‘You had better let me buy that ink-bottle, Razàka’; and he answered: ‘Well, sir, if you really want it I will make you a present of it, but as I received it from Mr. Griffiths as a keepsake, I will never sell it.’ ‘No, my friend,’ I said, ‘I do not want your ink-bottle; you keep it, I was only joking. I am glad to find that you still retain such an affection for your former missionary friend, that you will not part with his gift for money.’ Yes, Razàka was a born gentleman—one of Nature’s noblemen, who could never stoop to a mean thing.

Some three years after the time mentioned above, the praying was prohibited, persecution began, and death was made the penalty of worshipping ‘the white man’s ancestor Jesus Christ’; but Razàka was left unmolested for some years, and many drew to him for counsel and prayer. This was especially the case after the martyrdom of his chief, Ràmitràha, as Razàka got his big Bible and continued his midnight prayer-meetings.