| Nosy Be is the large island off the west coast of Madagascar in the north. Nosy Komba is a smaller island off Nosy Be. On Thursday night we rode ten huors on the worst road we have ever seen in our lives-- a dirt path cutting east to west across the northern part of teh country. It is the only land route for this trip, and to go from the north on to the capitol. Its total abandonement demonstrates the oppressed status of the people of this region. I saw drivers of large trailer trucks sleeping at a "campsite" on the "shoulder" of the road because they could not make the distance, (unlikely more than 200 km) in one night. We travelled in the back of a 4 x 4 covered pick up. I didn't sleep and have the ass bruises to show for my suffering. (And the Malagasy travel bragging rights). But by Friday mid6day we were on the beautiful island of Nosy Komba where we spent 3 nights. Again, relaxing on the beach. The island is also home to a family of lemurs so accustomed to humans they jump on your shoulders and eat bananas off your shoulders. Fantastic! NK is also a proud island, having bounced back, on their own accord, from near total deforestation to near total vegetation in less than 10 years. The place to stay is a village of not more than 1060 people. Frequented by few overnight visitors, Robyn and I were a bit of an event for the village, esp. the kids and esp. because we were so often sitting on the beach. It was a delight to watch Robyn talk with , and fascinate, the kids. The final notable here was our hotelier --of Malagasy and German parents, he was very organized , in a very laid back way! Ha! Now we are in the town of Hellville on Nosy Be. It is a charming, and relatively affluent place. Last night we celebrated having passed the Georgia State Bar exam with a dinner of the plentiful street food (on a Monday night the streets were packed with stands and people eating by candlelight!), and more than a couple drinks! So ... Madagascar. A place like none other I have seen. A bundle of new experiences for me .. and, accordingto Robyn, welcome closure for a powerful and complex experience for her. Tonight we fly to the capitol and Thrusday morning start off for Tanzania. Robyn will take the blog back, and likely chime in after the safari around the 5th of June, or after Zanzibar a coule of days later. Home soon. |
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Overland to the Islands of Nosy Komba and Nosy Be
Monday, May 26, 2008
Sambava, Vohemar and Tsarabaria: "The North"
We have spent nearly the last two weeks in the northern part of the country, most of it on the beach. We flew first to Sambava, landing in one of the smallest airports I have ever seen. The lush, tropical, humid climate immediately brought a smile to Robyn's face. So too did the sound of the Sakalava dialect spoken in this region , the type of Malagasy she speaks best. We spent three nights in a simple bungalow directly on the palm tree lined white sand beach. The surf is too strong for swimming, but the sunrises and the beach were exquisite. When not lazing there, Robyn toure me through places she knew--the spot she used to come to once a month to receieve phone calls from home, the place where she ran a camp for some kids, a favorite lunch spot.
The culinary memories and hilights included street food, served from little makeshift stands, mostly doughy and or fried, and flavored rum. Sambava is the vanilla capitol of the country, so we got some of that too. We also visited a young girl student whom a friend of Robyn's and a former Peace Corp volunteer , is sponsoring in school. The girl's French is immaculate, and though she understood much of my english, she mostly just smiled at me and laughed.
To Robyn, Sambava looked much the same, though in a few spots worse than years ago. But we found it very relaxing.
VOHEMAR
We continued on to Vohemar, several (slow, arduous) hours to the north. The ride was slowed by numerous stops to pick people up and drop them off and overstuff the vehicle , a "collective taxi" of sorts. At teh end of it all I cut myself stepping out of the crammed tiny Renault 4.
But for Robyn's Madagascar, Vohemar is God's Country and we stayed for 4 nights at a lovely waterfront hotel called the Sol y Mar.
Robyn knew many people in town: the men at her former bank, the head nun at the convent, the cook and owner at her favorite restaurant, La Floride (we had Indian Ocean lobster and coconut shrimp) , the lonely philosophical woman at the stationary store, ( who invited us to her home for fried bananas, coffee and , it turned out, a long ophilosophical talk), a friend in the market, a worker at the "bus terminal" ... It was wonderful to see the reunions.
The water in Vohemar is a bay, wonderful for swimming, which we did often. We also saw the market, with lot of fish, the mosque tower, and the Sakalava holy tree on the beach where Robyn once witnessed a ceremony involving the slaughter of more than a dozen cattle wading in the ocean water.
A ligher note included the mile marker sign on the road in the center of town that notes helpfully: "Vohemar: 0 km"
With its handful of restaurants, apartments going up and very much more (than before) sophisticated port, this was the first place Robyn said is certainly looking better now.
TSARABARIA
Tuesday we went back to Robyn's village, between Sambava and Vohemar. She was quite nervous--having heard virtually nothing from there in over 7 years.
We arrived at 10 and left at 4. The best I can describe it is she was like Bill Clinton in Ireland. They LOVED her. She was basically beseigeed for 6 hours straight.
So many people remebered her and were glad to see her: her main host family, who gave us lunch, a teacher at the middle school, a landlady of hers, three of the girls she worked with most, the nurse who was her supervisor at the hospital and many more. Tehy had remembered she had promised to return and were thrilled she did. She was the first Peace Corp volunteer in the village ever, and something of a legend had built up.
For me, I was glad to see the building Robyn had gotten built as a volunteer, an addition to the hospital and to see just how small and humble the village is. Among the most profound moments for me was seeing the "hospital" Robyn worked in. Had I not been being watched all the time, i would have wept openly. There is basically nothing in it. But just as strong a sense and memory will be the smiles and th ejoy they had--at seeing Robyn, and to show her the ways they were working to improve their community, both with Peace Corp's help and on their own.
Robtyn was sailing, and exhausted, when we left. We were joined by Sam, the current volunteer in the village, who came to Vohemar for a visit to swap stories with Robyn.
The culinary memories and hilights included street food, served from little makeshift stands, mostly doughy and or fried, and flavored rum. Sambava is the vanilla capitol of the country, so we got some of that too. We also visited a young girl student whom a friend of Robyn's and a former Peace Corp volunteer , is sponsoring in school. The girl's French is immaculate, and though she understood much of my english, she mostly just smiled at me and laughed.
To Robyn, Sambava looked much the same, though in a few spots worse than years ago. But we found it very relaxing.
VOHEMAR
We continued on to Vohemar, several (slow, arduous) hours to the north. The ride was slowed by numerous stops to pick people up and drop them off and overstuff the vehicle , a "collective taxi" of sorts. At teh end of it all I cut myself stepping out of the crammed tiny Renault 4.
But for Robyn's Madagascar, Vohemar is God's Country and we stayed for 4 nights at a lovely waterfront hotel called the Sol y Mar.
Robyn knew many people in town: the men at her former bank, the head nun at the convent, the cook and owner at her favorite restaurant, La Floride (we had Indian Ocean lobster and coconut shrimp) , the lonely philosophical woman at the stationary store, ( who invited us to her home for fried bananas, coffee and , it turned out, a long ophilosophical talk), a friend in the market, a worker at the "bus terminal" ... It was wonderful to see the reunions.
The water in Vohemar is a bay, wonderful for swimming, which we did often. We also saw the market, with lot of fish, the mosque tower, and the Sakalava holy tree on the beach where Robyn once witnessed a ceremony involving the slaughter of more than a dozen cattle wading in the ocean water.
A ligher note included the mile marker sign on the road in the center of town that notes helpfully: "Vohemar: 0 km"
With its handful of restaurants, apartments going up and very much more (than before) sophisticated port, this was the first place Robyn said is certainly looking better now.
TSARABARIA
Tuesday we went back to Robyn's village, between Sambava and Vohemar. She was quite nervous--having heard virtually nothing from there in over 7 years.
We arrived at 10 and left at 4. The best I can describe it is she was like Bill Clinton in Ireland. They LOVED her. She was basically beseigeed for 6 hours straight.
So many people remebered her and were glad to see her: her main host family, who gave us lunch, a teacher at the middle school, a landlady of hers, three of the girls she worked with most, the nurse who was her supervisor at the hospital and many more. Tehy had remembered she had promised to return and were thrilled she did. She was the first Peace Corp volunteer in the village ever, and something of a legend had built up.
For me, I was glad to see the building Robyn had gotten built as a volunteer, an addition to the hospital and to see just how small and humble the village is. Among the most profound moments for me was seeing the "hospital" Robyn worked in. Had I not been being watched all the time, i would have wept openly. There is basically nothing in it. But just as strong a sense and memory will be the smiles and th ejoy they had--at seeing Robyn, and to show her the ways they were working to improve their community, both with Peace Corp's help and on their own.
Robtyn was sailing, and exhausted, when we left. We were joined by Sam, the current volunteer in the village, who came to Vohemar for a visit to swap stories with Robyn.
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