OUR Sunday at Ivòhitròsa was such a novel and interesting one that I shall depart for once from my rule of omitting in these chapters mention of our religious work. It was a wet morning, so that it was after eleven o’clock before the rain ceased and we could call the people together. A good many had come up from the country round on the previous day to see us, and we collected them on a long and pretty level piece of rock which forms one side of the little square around which the houses are built. When all had assembled, there must have been nearly three hundred present, including our own men, who grouped themselves near us. It was certainly the strangest congregation we had ever addressed, for the men had their weapons, while the women looked very heathenish. Some few had put some slight covering over the upper part of their bodies, but most were just as they ordinarily appeared, some with hair and necks dripping with castor oil, and with their conspicuous bead ornaments on head, neck, and arms. One could not but feel deeply moved to see these poor ignorant folks, the great majority of them joining for the first time in Christian worship, and hearing for the first time the news of salvation. And remembering our own ignorance of much of their language, the utter strangeness of the message we brought, and the darkness of their minds, we could not but feel how little we could in one brief service do to quicken their apprehension of things spiritual and eternal. We had some of our most hearty lively hymns and tunes, our men assisting us well in the singing; after Mr Street had spoken to the people from a part of the Sermon on the Mount, I also addressed them, trying in as simple a manner as was possible to tell them what we had come for, what that “glad tidings” was which we taught them. On account of the rain, work in the afternoon had to be confined to what could be done in our tent, which was crammed full, and in our house.[29]

That there was great need for enlightenment may be seen from what we heard from the people themselves—viz. that there are (or were) eight unlucky days in every month, and that children born on those days were killed by their being held with their faces immersed in water in the winnowing-fan. So that on an average, more than a quarter of the children born were destroyed! The Tanàla names for the months are all different from those used in Imèrina; they have no names for the weekdays, and indeed no division of time by sevens, but the days throughout each month (lunar) are known by twelve names, some applied to two days and others to three days consecutively, and these day names are nearly all identical with the Hova names for the months. Each of the days throughout the month has its fàdy, or food which must not be eaten when travelling on that day.

After our four days’ stay at Ivòhitròsa, we managed to get on our way towards the coast, not, however, without having considerable difficulty with our bearers, who were afraid of any new and hitherto untried route, for we were the first Europeans to travel in this direction. By tact and firmness we managed to secure our point; and on the Thursday afternoon we came down to the river Màtitànana, which is at this point a very fine broad stream, with a rapid and deep current. It flows here through a nearly straight valley for four or five miles in a southerly direction, with low bamboo-covered hills on either side, and its channel much broken by rocky islands. To cross this stream, about a hundred yards wide at this place, no canoes were available, but there was a bamboo raft called a zàhitra.

Of all the rude, primitive and ramshackle contrivances ever invented for water carriage, commend me to a zàhitra. This one consisted of about thirty or forty pieces of bamboo, from ten to twelve feet long, lashed together by bands of some tough creeper or vàhy, which said bamboos were constantly slipping out of their places and needed trimming at every trip, and the fastenings had to be refixed. The zàhitra would take only two boxes and one man at a trip, besides the captain of the raft, and when loaded was from a third to a half of it under water. The civilisation of the people about here seemed to have not yet produced a paddle; a split bamboo supplied (very imperfectly) the place of one. Owing to the strong current and the feeble navigating appliances available, not more than about four trips over and back again could be made in an hour. And so there on the bank we sat from a little after two o’clock until nearly six, watching the ferrying over of our baggage, and then of our bearers. At sunset a good number of our men were still on the wrong side of the water, and so, as there was no possibility of getting them all over that day, and neither Mr S. nor I relished the prospect of a voyage on a zàhitra in the dark, we crossed at a little after sunset. We made a safe passage, but got considerably wet during its progress; Mr S. took an involuntary foot-bath, and I a sitz-bath. The rest of our men returned to a village overlooking the river, while we went a little way up the woods and, finding a level spot, pitched the tent there, our bearers who had crossed occupying two or three woodcutters’ huts which were fortunately close at hand.

During the three or four hours’ waiting on the river bank we had a good opportunity of observing the people from the village just above, who came down to watch our passage over the water. Amongst them was a girl whose appearance was so striking that I must attempt a description of her. She was a comely lassie, although a dark-skinned one, and was so ornamented as to be conspicuous among her companions even at some distance. Round her head she had the same fillet of white beads with a metal plate in the front which we had observed at Ivòhitròsa, but from it depended a row of small beads like drops. On each side of her temples hung a long ornament of hair and beads reaching below her chin, several beads hung from her ears, and a number of white and oblong beads were worked into her hair at the back. Round her neck she had six strings of large beads, and another passing over one shoulder and under the arm. On each wrist were three or four silver bracelets, while on every finger and thumb were several coils of brass wire. Her clothing was a piece of bark cloth fastened just above the hips, over a skirt of fine mat, and on each toe was a brass ring. Thus “from top to toe” she was got up regardless of expense; she was probably the daughter of the chief; anyhow, she was evidently the village belle, and seemed well aware of the fact.

Our route towards the sea was now over a comparatively level country, but not without many steep ascents and descents, and generally following the valley of the Màtitànana. As I took with me a good theodolite, I was able to make a running survey of a large portion of our journey, and to map, for the first time, that river valley. The path was often hidden by long grass which was much higher than our heads, the bearers’ feet being frequently hurt by the sharp prickly grass called tsèvoka. We had beautiful views of the river, and the foliage became most luxuriant; the valleys were full of the elegant traveller’s tree, while in front of us whole hills were covered with the lovely light green of the bamboo, with its graceful curving head and fine pinnate leaves at every joint.

A very prominent feature in the vegetation of many places we passed through was the longòzy, a plant which seemed frequently to prevent anything else from growing (Amomum angustifolium). It has a rod-like stem, rising sometimes from twelve to fourteen feet high, with leaves a foot or more long, growing alternately on each side the stem. At the base grow the fruits in a bright, smooth, scarlet husk, two or three inches long, enclosing a white silky-looking pulp containing a number of purplish-black seeds, the cardamom of commerce. The pulp has a pleasant acid taste, but if one of the seeds is broken a pungent burning sensation is experienced at the back of the mouth.

The better kind of houses in these Tanàla villages have the walls made of bamboo flattened and plaited together, while the poorer ones are of the leaves of the traveller’s tree. Every house is roofed with the latter material; in many of them the gable projects at the ridge twice as much as at the eaves, so as to make a kind of pent at each end. The gable timbers are frequently cut into a very exact resemblance to ox horns. In most of the villages money seems of little use to the people; they value beads or calico much more. Every woman and girl, and many of the men and boys, are decorated with beads, and these seem an important part of their property. Their religion seems to consist chiefly of charms; charms against guns, fever, crocodiles, etc. We purchased for a little cloth a charm against gun-shot; this consisted of three hollow tin receptacles resembling crocodiles’ teeth, joined together and filled with what looks like coarsely cut tobacco. The former owner tells us that this charm has such virtue that a musket ball is turned aside from the fortunate wearer. Many of the people carry shields, which are made of a circular piece of tough wood, about eighteen inches in diameter and covered with undressed bullocks’ hide. A handle is cut out of the solid wood at the back. The women in this Màtitànana valley carry a broad knife or chopper stuck in their girdles, and resembling in shape a butcher’s cleaver, with a short round handle; this is used for cutting up manioc and other roots.

At one point on our route we passed through a dense jungle of bamboo, requiring a bright look-out on the part of the bearers—and the borne as well—to avoid damage from the sharp-edged stumps underfoot, and the stems and tendrils overhead. But the effect of the numberless thickly set, smooth, jointed stems, like slender columns below, and the feathery canopy of delicate green above, was both curious and beautiful. At one little stream we passed some fine specimens of the hòfa, a screw-pine or pandanus, with the aerial roots in a cone-shaped mass, rising five or six feet above the ground. A very common tree about here is one with clusters of large leaves like those of a horse-chestnut, and with a hard mottled green fruit as big as a lemon, from which gum is made.

In a small open space among the trees we passed by almost the only sign we had yet seen of anything like religious observances in the Tanàla country. This was an upright stake in the ground with a number of bamboos arranged round it, forming a cone-shaped erection; in front of this several stones were fixed. At this rude altar the heads of cattle, fowls, etc., are thrown as expiatory offerings; and here also the people come to pray for blessings which they desire, especially for children. We also passed on another day a long flat stone supported by several smaller ones, forming a sort of altar, and used for the same kind of offerings as those just described.

Following in the main the course of the river Màtitànana, we had frequently to cross its tributaries, and found we were advancing in civilisation as we proceeded. First, we had a single zàhitra to ferry us over; then two zàhitra and a small canoe; then we got good-sized canoes. A little after leaving the ferry we passed through a large clump of immense banana-trees. They were at least forty feet high, and with their smooth green stems—almost trunks—and grand broad leaves, and great clusters of fruit, presented a magnificent appearance. The fruit is called òntsy; these are about a foot long and a couple of inches thick, and so a single one makes a fair meal.

For several miles the river makes a great bend to the north, and on following its banks again we saw crocodiles for the first time on this journey. These were basking in the sunshine, perfectly motionless, on a group of rocks just showing above the water. At the distance we were I should not have noticed them but for my men pointing them out; but with the glass every scale could be seen, and very unpleasant-looking creatures they are in their slimy length, with serrated back and tail, and rather small heads. Near them were several large wading-birds, some white and others dark brown, and called àrondòvy (i.e. “protector of the enemy”). These birds are constant attendants on the crocodiles, performing some service for them; and where the birds are seen, the reptiles are never far distant. We afterwards noticed that near all the villages on the river banks a small space in the water was enclosed with stakes, so that the women and children coming to draw water could do so without fear of being seized by a crocodile, or swept off into the stream by his tail.

From a remote period the Malagasy have been accustomed to resort to ordeals for the detection of crime, and the ordeal by the tangèna poison has already been referred to in these pages (see Chapter III.). But among the Tanàla tribes an ordeal of another kind was commonly employed to find out a guilty person; for anyone suspected of wrong-doing was taken to the bank of the Màtitànana, or one of its tributaries, where crocodiles abound. The people having assembled, a man stood near the accused, and striking the water thrice, addressed a long speech to the reptiles, adjuring them to punish the guilty, but to spare the innocent. The accused was then made to swim across the river and back again; and if he successfully accomplished this, and was not hurt by the crocodiles, he was considered innocent, and his accuser was fined four oxen. If, on the contrary, he was seized and killed, he was supposed to have justly merited his fate. This ordeal was termed tangèm-voày (voày = crocodile).

As we proceeded nearer the coast, we found by the style of hairdressing among the women that we had come into the territory of a different tribe to that amongst whom we had been travelling. Many of the young women had a singular but somewhat elegant style of coiffure. It was done thus: the hair was plaited in very fine braids, and then twisted into thin flat circular coils of from two to two and a half inches in diameter; these were symmetrically arranged, one overlapping the other, in two rows, the upper one completely encircling the head from the forehead to the back of the neck, and the other ending below the ears. These young girls really looked well, for they had the appearance of being well dressed. The women here were more fully clothed than those of the Tanàla; the skirt of fine mat is worn here, but there is more of it, and hemp cloth seems in more common use.

The country became flatter, undulating, but with no prominent rising grounds. The vegetation also was quite different from what we had become accustomed to during the last four days. There were no more bamboos, hardly any traveller’s trees, but large numbers of single trees or small clumps of them. These were chiefly the adàbo, a species of Ficus, a tree with massive smooth trunk and light brown bark; they have a much more rounded and shapely outline than the forest trees, and give the scenery quite an English appearance. But the presence of an occasional fan-palm or cocoanut-palm lifting their tall plumes aloft soon dispelled the illusion. The villages, too, became numerous, and many of them are built five or six together—that is, in lines of as many, only a short distance between them.

We had a curious congregation on the Sunday at one of the two villages where we spoke to the people, of whom a good many collected together. But as heavy showers came on, most of our auditors were standing under the elevated rice-houses (tràno àmbo), as we also were. Still we were able to speak a few earnest words to them. Almost in the midst of our speaking, the old chief of the village came up to give us—a bottle of rum! and a fowl. The former of these presents, as well as others of the same kind, were, as soon as darkness set in, carried outside, and poured on the ground as the best way of disposing of their contents. We were glad to find that the Taimòro, among whom we had now come, did not, like the Tanàla, kill children born on unlucky days, but by some ceremonies and offerings avert the evils supposed to be connected with them.

A week’s journey from Ivòhitròsa brought us to a Hova military post again—viz. to the town of Ambòhipèno, which is only a few miles from the mouth of the Màtitànana river, and is the central one of a line of three villages. Here we had a hospitable reception from the governor and his officers, as well as from the congregation and its pastor. Although the sea was still some miles distant, we could distinctly hear the roar of the surf some time before reaching Ambòhipèno. On a voyage to the seaside, which we made the day after our arrival, we had a fine large canoe which had more sharply pointed stem and stern than in those seen in Imèrina. We were struck by the great arums (vìha) growing in thick masses along the banks in the water. These were from twelve to fifteen feet high, with thick fleshy stems and leaf-stalks, lily-like leaves, between two and three feet long, and magnificent white flowers, with a scarlet pistil. The fruit is occasionally used by the natives as an article of food. We picked up some good shells (Turritellæ, Cypræa, etc.) on the seashore, as well as corals, seaweed and sponges. Like almost every river on the east coast, the mouth is closed by a sand bar, until the rains of the wet season fill the river so full that the bar is broken for a few weeks, and then the south-east winds and currents close it up again.

The greater part of two days were spent at Ambòhipèno in services and school examinations, which latter were especially interesting and satisfactory. We were amused by the decoration of the pulpit in the native church, which was rather extraordinary. It was a high box-like affair, part of the front being occupied by a picture of a European ship, the other part by a church with a tall tower and spire; while over these was a text (in Malagasy), “Says the owner of this house, Fear”; although it would be difficult to find the passage in this exact form. These objects, together with birds perched on trees, made a curious mixture of subjects for pulpit decoration.

In the narrow lanes near the village we passed great numbers and many varieties of butterflies in a few minutes’ ride. Judging from what we saw, an entomologist would find a rich harvest in the Taimòro country. Dr Vinson, a French naturalist who came up to the capital in 1862, says: “The habits of the lepidoptera are much affected in Madagascar by atmospheric changes. In the misty mornings everything sleeps or hides itself under the damp foliage, but as soon as the sun shines out, the forest, the footpath, the beds of the torrents, are peopled with bright-coloured and light-flying butterflies. They give themselves up to all kinds of frolic with a wanton joy; they court, they pursue, they fly, interlacing and eddying in their flight in the air like the brilliant flakes of a coloured snow.” In travelling up through this eastern forest a few years later, but in the hotter season of the year, I was struck by the number and variety of the butterflies which crossed our path. There was the rather common one of greyish-green with dark markings, the blackish-brown one with two large blue spots, the widely distributed warm brown one with black-edged wings, the pure white one, the white with orange edges, the white with black edges, the white with small black spots near the edge of the wings, the small yellow species, the small buff one, the white with crimped edges, the minute brown and blue, and many others. In damp places, a cloud of the smaller yellow and buff kinds may be often seen sipping the moisture.

While staying near the forest I was several times struck by the curious formation of the wings of one of the smaller species of butterfly. The insect in question is of plain inconspicuous colouring, chiefly shades of brown, and when at rest sits with the wings erect. The noticeable point is that there are several strongly marked and dark-tinted processes from the hinder part of the wings, which resemble the head, eyes and antennæ of a butterfly, so that when at rest it is very difficult to say which is the head and which is the tail of the insect. The tail markings and points are so much more strongly emphasised than the actual head and antennæ, that it is only when the wings slightly open that one is undeceived. Mimicry of one insect by another, and mimicry of leaves, grass, etc., by insects, are of course well-known facts, but I do not remember to have seen any similar instances noticed of resemblance between the different parts of the same insect; but may not the reason of this mimicry of the head by the tail be of some service in directing the attention of birds and other enemies to the less vital part of the butterfly’s structure? It is evident that the hinder portion of the wings might be snapped at and broken off, and yet no serious injury be done to the vital parts of the insect. However this may be, the point appears to me to be worth noting down as a curious fact.

Talking with the people in the evening, we found we were in one of the districts where the Arab influence must have been very strong in former times. They are called Zafin Ibrahim (descendants of Abraham), and told us they were connected with the Jews. There is no doubt, however, that the Arabs had anciently an important settlement here, and to some extent taught the use of Arabic letters and literature; but being isolated from their fellow-countrymen and co-religionists, they gradually became absorbed in the native population. It is probable that many of the chiefs of the south-east tribes are of Arab descent, and so are often lighter in colour than the mass of the people. An intelligent young man gave me a paper containing all the Arabic characters and many of the syllabic sounds, with their equivalents in Malagasy. He had, about six years previously, copied out for M. A. Grandidier, who was then exploring the coasts of Madagascar, a number of extracts from native Arabic books of prayers, genealogies, and sorcery. This young man’s father, then dead, was one of the ombiàsy or diviners, and his books of charms and incantations, being supposed to be connected with idolatry, were destroyed at the time of the burning of the idols in 1869. A few years after our journey, two of the Bétsiléo missionaries, when making an evangelistic tour among the south-east tribes, obtained some pages of manuscript from this neighbourhood. These were apparently written in Arabic; and on being submitted to an expert in that language, were pronounced to be extracts from the Koran, evidently copied by someone who did not know Arabic, and so were full of errors; these quotations were no doubt used as charms and invocations. (I may here notice that, very recently, copies of the Malagasy scriptures have been boiled by the native diviners, and the water sold as a very powerful charm!)

Being near the sea, we had opportunities of seeing many birds which are oceanic in their distribution, among which are the frigate-birds (one species), and the tropic-birds (two species). The former are true pirates, living almost in dependence upon other fishing birds, whom they force, when these are weaker than themselves, to give up the fish they have taken. But they do also fish for themselves, darting down upon the surface of the water. The white tropic-bird is also an expert fisher, plunging sometimes to a great depth after its prey. They remain all night on their nest, leaving it at sunrise to fish in the open sea. After heavy storms the frigate-bird is occasionally seen quite in the interior, being apparently driven inwards by the violence of the wind.

Of the sea-birds proper, there are about a score kinds frequenting the coasts of Madagascar, including those widely spread and powerful-winged species belonging to the terns, the noddies, the gulls, and the petrels. Very little, however, has been noted here as to their habits, and they probably differ little, if anything, from their fellows which are found all over the world. One of the terns comes up into the interior, and has been shot in Imèrina, and so also has one of the gulls; another is common on the Alaotra lake in Antsihànaka.