Thirty years in Madagascar

by Thomas T. Matthews

These, however, were but ragged remnants of former beliefs, which, while they might be enough to show that God had not left Himself without witness, had lost most of their meaning for the people, and almost all their power over them. They were in no way guided by the fear of God in their daily life and conduct. God was not in all their thoughts, for He was a name and nothing more to the vast majority of the people.

The Malagasy were under the baneful sway of the most degrading superstitions. Hence polygamy, infanticide, trial by the poison ordeal, and all the attendant horrors of heathenism were everywhere rampant. The people were goaded on to commit the most cruel and heartless crimes against their nearest and dearest by the Mpanàndro (the astrologers), or the Mpìsikìdy (the workers of the oracle), and the Òmbiàsy (the diviners or witch-doctors). They and theirs were harmed or made ill, as they thought, by the Mpàmosàvy (the wizards or witches). They thought that all disease arose from bewitchery, and hence medicine was known as Fànafòdy, i. e. that which removes or takes off the Òdy, the charm or witchery. The far-famed Òdi-mahèry (powerful-charm) for which Vònizòngo, my own district during my first term of ten years in Madagascar, was once so famous, was mainly composed of the same ingredients as the witches’ broth in Macbeth—the leg of a frog, the tongue of a dog, the leg of a lizard, the head of a toad, and such like. The great poet says that ‘One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,’ and the same may be said of the touch of superstition.

The people had been sunk for ages in ignorance, and formed a counterpart to the heathen world which the Apostle Paul describes as ‘having the understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that was in them, because of the hardening of their heart. Being past feeling, they gave themselves over unto lasciviousness, to work all uncleanness with greediness.’ This made them mere playthings in the hands of the ‘astrologers,’ ‘workers of the oracle,’ and ‘diviners’; for without their assistance they regarded themselves as completely at the mercy of the much feared Mpàmosàvy (the wizards or witches).

Everything—marriages, business, journeys—could be happy or successful only if undertaken on an auspicious day, and hence the proper authorities had to be paid to find out the lucky days. If a child was born on an unlucky day, or during the unlucky month of Àlakàosy, it had to be put to death, otherwise it was believed it would grow up to be a curse to its parents and its country. Of a child born on one of the so-called unlucky days, or during the so-called unlucky month, the diviner would at once say: ‘This child must die, or it will grow up to be a curse to the country, Mànana vìntan-dràtsy ìzy (it has a bad destiny hanging over it).’

There were different ways of putting these unfortunate innocents to death. If they were born during the unlucky month, they were placed in the evening at the gateway of the village, to be trampled to death by the cattle as they were being driven into the village for the night. If the gods inspired the cattle to step over the infant, its life was generally, though not always, spared. The Malagasy are very fond of their children—the parents would kneel by the pathway, the father on the one side, the mother on the other, pleading, with strong crying and tears, that the gods would spare their little one. Sometimes the cattle, with more sense than the people, when they came up to the babe, would sniff at it and step over it, and thus its life might be spared. This was the case, it is said, with Rainilàiàrivòny, the late prime minister of Madagascar, who was born during the unlucky month. It was not so often that male children were exposed in this way, some excuse was usually found by the ‘diviners’; but as a rule the female children were thus exposed. Twins, whether male or female, were always put to death.

A child was not always spared even when the cattle had stepped over it. The diviner would sometimes say: ‘A mistake has been made; this child is not to die in that way, but by the Ahòhoka.’ Water was poured into a large wooden platter, called a sahàfa. The child was taken, turned over, and its face held in the water until the poor innocent was suffocated. Some diviners were more exacting than others. Instead of effecting death by suffocation, they would cause a round hole to be dug in the ground, in which the child was placed, and covered with earth up to the waist; boiling water was then poured over it until death relieved the poor child of its torments, after which the pit was filled up with earth and pounded over. Thus thousands upon thousands of children fell victims to this superstition, and do so still in those parts of the island unreached by the benign influence of the Gospel of Christ. Members of my own congregation at Fìhàonana, Vònizòngo, had seen such atrocities as those I have just described committed, if they had not themselves actually taken part in them.

The standard of morality was by no means high in heathen Madagascar. A man might be a drunkard, dishonest, a liar, or quarrelsome and given to fighting, and as such be regarded by his neighbours as a bad man, that is a bad member of society; but in other respects he might be utterly immoral without earning that title. A man’s morals were not regarded as having anything whatever to do with his personal character they were regarded as his own private affair. The community passed no judgement upon him.

I have said a man, because a woman was not really regarded as having any place in society. Women were viewed as little more than chattels necessary for the furnishing of a man’s house. They were the slaves of their lord and master. They were spoken of as àmbin-jàvatra, that is, surplus belongings. Under these circumstances the marriage relationship was not regarded as of much consequence, and before 1879 a man had only to say to his wife, in the presence of a witness, Misàotra anào, màndehàna hìanào, ‘Thanks, go!’ and she was divorced. Marriage was said not to be a binding tie, but only a knot out of which you could slip at any time. With such views of the highest and holiest relationship in life, with divorce easy, and polygamy rampant, the condition of society may be better imagined than described. Yet it could not exactly be said of the Malagasy that the ‘emblems of vice’ had been ever ‘objects of worship,’ or that ‘acts of vice’ had ever been regarded by them as ‘acts of public worship,’ as can be said of the people of some heathen lands.

Such a state of things, of which many were wearied, paved the way, in a measure, for the new teaching. The work of the mission made rapid progress. The Gospel effected a marvellous change in the lives of the people, and numbers were baptized on profession of faith and received into church fellowship. The old heathen party became alarmed at this, and rose in arms against the New Religion. As Samuel Rutherford said: ‘Good being done, the devil began to roar.’ This he did with a vengeance, making use of all who had vested interests in immorality and superstition, and especially of the keepers of the royal idols. The converts were charged with refusing to worship the gods of their forefathers, and to pray to the spirits of their departed ancestors, and with praying instead to ‘the white man’s ancestor, Jesus Christ.’

History was repeating itself. The keepers of the royal idols frightened the queen by telling her that the gods were getting exasperated, and that if they once were enraged they would send fever, and famine, and pestilence, and all kinds of calamities. Although a strong-minded woman, and in some respects unusually shrewd, the queen was very superstitious, and the idol-keepers and the heathen party were able to work upon her fears, and, as the issue proved, with deadly effect.