FROM the Hova military post at Ambòhipèno, my companion and I made our way southwards, or rather first to the south-west, intending to visit the congregations at the three or four other important places in this district, as well as some of those in their vicinity. This part of Madagascar is a comparatively level or undulating country, extending for many miles between the forest-covered mountains and highlands to the west, and the ocean to the east, and only about three hundred to four hundred feet above sea-level. The native inhabitants were conquered—often with much cruelty and treachery—by the Hova, about fifty years previous to the date of our visit, but the cruelties of the wars carried on by the armies of Radàma I. and Rànavàlona I. were not forgotten. Over large districts, all the male population whose heads were above the armpits of the soldiers were ruthlessly shot down or speared, and the women and children taken as slaves, so that a large proportion of the slave population of Imèrina were descended from the tribes in these south-eastern districts. Since then, the people quietly submitted to the superior power; but these military posts were still maintained with governors, officers, and a small force of soldiers; and at most of them there was a considerable display of military authority, the gates being guarded, and the drum beaten at regular times every morning and evening. With one notable exception, we were everywhere received with the greatest kindness and respect. Abundant presents of food for us and our men were brought wherever we stopped; every facility was given us to speak to the people, and we were helped in every way to prosecute our journey.

The country between Ambòhipèno and Màhamànina was varied by low hills in all directions, and patches of wood, the traveller’s tree appearing in great numbers. The fruit of this beautiful tree was seen very conspicuously, forming three or four clusters of sheaths, about a dozen in each, much resembling the horns of a short-horned ox. These project from between the leaf-stalks, two in full bloom, and the other two generally dying off, or shedding the seeds, or rather the seed-pods. These are oval in shape, about two inches long, and yellow in colour, something like very large dates. These, when ripe, open and show each pod dividing into three parts, each of which is double, thus containing six rows of seeds about the size of a small bean. But what seems very curious is, that each seed is wrapped in a covering exactly like a small piece of blue silk with scalloped edges. I could not get these, however, without some difficulty from the ants, which swarmed all over trunk, leaf-stalks, and leaves, and resented vigorously any intrusion into their domains.

At Màhamànina we found old friends in the governor and his wife. The làpa or government house was the largest and finest house I had ever seen in Madagascar, except the chief palace in the capital. It was three storeys high, entirely of timber, with stout verandah posts and very high-pitched roof; and everything here, gateways, guard-houses and stockades, was of the most substantial character, and made of fine massive timbers. After two days’ stay we proceeded farther south, and at the village where we encamped for the night we noticed a new style of coiffure among the women. Some of them had their hair done in two rows of little balls, while behind the head there was a piece of hollow wood ornamented with brass-headed nails and fastened into the hair. In this they kept their needles and other small property. Beads also were a good deal worn, and they had the lòndo or square mat on the back. At one village the young women wear round the breast a broad band of neatly woven straw, ornamented with a variety of patterns in different colours. It was rather difficult to understand the talk of the people; the nasal n, the peculiar intonation, and the pronouns and adverbs being all different from the Hova forms, made their conversation a puzzle to us. Some, if not all the people here, are a Sàkalàva colony from the west of the island.

We came the next day to a very boggy and difficult rice-valley. Hereabouts the people make their vàlam-parìhy, or low earthen banks between the rice-fields, with a foundation of small stakes stuck in the ground, apparently to hold the earth together, as it seems less tenacious and binding than that in Imèrina. When a good deal of the earth has been washed away, it may easily be imagined that it is not a pleasant thing walking along these banks. During the afternoon we passed for some time over a slightly hollow tract thickly covered with rounded lumps of dark brown rock resembling slag or scoria, and full of holes like those produced by air-bubbles when the mass was in a state of fusion. These were of all sizes, from a yard or two to an inch in diameter, while the ground was covered with rounded pebbles of the same material, of the size of small beans. This must surely have been the bed of some ancient stream, long since diverted into other channels by subsequent elevation of the surface. But whence was this volcanic substance derived? For many miles westward there seems no broken or rugged surface, nor anything to indicate subterranean disturbance. Probably the great isolated mountain of Ivòhibé, which we have seen for several days far away to the west, is an extinct volcano, like so many hills farther north; and the ancient stream has at some remote period cut through a dyke of lava and brought the rolled and rounded fragments down its bed.

Walking about in the brilliant moonlight after our evening meal, in a short time there was quite a crowd gathered together to watch the extraordinary spectacle of two foreigners walking backwards and forwards for no discoverable earthly purpose. After a little while we stopped and began to talk to them, telling them of the old, but to them perfectly new, story of the glad tidings, and of that “faithful saying” which was worthy of their, and of all men’s, “acceptation.”

Travelling again towards the shore, we passed for some time through country which was like a beautiful shrubbery, with low trees, amongst which the vòavòntaka, with its perfectly globular green or yellow fruit, the size of a large orange, was very plentiful and conspicuous. There was also a tree, the karàbo, having enormous pods with seeds like beans, but from two to three inches in diameter. We passed fresh evidence of volcanic action in ancient streams of lava, with sand and dust from some long extinct crater. Stopping at sunset at a village called Màhavèlona, we found it, notwithstanding its promising name (“causing to live”), the filthiest spot we had seen in all our journey, quite worthy of the name given by a friend to a place he stopped at, of “the well-dunged village.” We could find no space where the tent could be pitched, and so began to look for a house. There was one in the centre of the village that looked of fair size, but the difficulty was, how to get to it, for it was surrounded for a considerable distance by a slough of mud and cow-dung that took our men nearly up to their knees. Happily there were a few stout planks lying near, and with these we made a causeway over the bog.

The following day, while waiting in the belt of wood bordering the shore, we had an opportunity of testing the accuracy of accounts given of the water procurable from the traveller’s tree, about which, although backed by the authority of Mr Ellis, and an illustration in his “Three Visits to Madagascar,” I had always felt rather sceptical, as somewhat of “a traveller’s tale.” In fact I had never before seen the tree where plenty of good water was not to be had; but here there was none for several miles except the stagnant, brackish and offensive water of the lagoon. (Even my friend, Baron, says that the tree is always found where good water is procurable.) But we found that on piercing with a spear or a pointed stick the lower part of one of the leaf-stalks, where they all clasp one over the other, a small stream of water spurted out, from which one could drink to the full of good, cool, and sweet water. If one of the outer leaf-stalks was forcibly pulled down, a quantity of water gushed out, so that we afterwards filled a vessel with as much as we needed. On examining a section of one of the stalks, a hollow channel about half-an-inch in diameter is seen running all down the inner side of the stalk from the base of the leaf. The large cool surface of the leaves appears to collect the water condensed from the atmosphere, and this is conducted by the little channel downward to the base. The leaf-stalks are all full of cells and of water, like those of the banana. After three hours’ walking along the shore in the heavy sand, with a hot sun overhead, we were grateful to be able to draw from these numberless vegetable springs, and we thanked God for the traveller’s tree; we felt that its name was no misnomer. We afterwards found in a village not far away that small water-pots were placed in a hollow cut at the base of the leaves, so as to collect water for drinking and household use.

After five days’ journey from Màhamànina we reached a village near Vangàindràno, another of the large Hova posts, and about three hours’ ride from the sea. But here we met with a new and unexpected experience, for we were prevented by the governor from going farther, and in fact, all our men made prisoners and detained in the fort for a couple of days, until we had agreed that we would not attempt to travel farther southwards. He alleged that he was acting under orders from the native government to allow no travelling south of the Mànanàra river. Whether this was the truth or not, we never clearly ascertained, nor any reason for such prohibition; but his whole action was in such striking contrast to the courtesy with which we were received everywhere else that it was difficult to believe he was not exceeding his instructions, certainly in the harsh way in which they were carried out. We had been repeatedly assured that there were no difficulties in travelling along the coast and that the country was perfectly tranquil, and that we could easily reach Fort Dauphine in a week. However, there was no help for it; we had to abandon our hope of seeing the congregations and people, as well as the country, to the south, and on 11th July we turned northwards, “homeward bound.” On one of the nights when we were thus stopped on our way, we saw what is not at all a common sight—namely, a very well-defined and distinct lunar rainbow. It looked pale and watery, however, quite a ghost of the rainbow produced by sunlight. During many years’ residence in Madagascar, I have only seen one on two other occasions.

On the sides of the lagoons and marshes may be found the curious pitcher-plant (Nepenthes). It is a shrub, about four feet high, and its jug-shaped pitchers, four or five inches in length, contain abundant water and numerous insects. The pitcher with its cover are most remarkable modifications of the petiole or leaf-stalk; and this plant, with a number of others, reverses the usual order of nature, and instead of forming food for animals, secures animal life, in the shape of insects, for its own nourishment. A French writer has, not inaptly, compared the pitcher of Nepenthes to the bowl of a German meerschaum pipe; and Mr Scott Elliott says: “I found the pitchers to be usually from a third to half full of the decomposing remains of insects. In almost every pitcher there were live worms, apparently living on the remains. Among the insects I found thirteen species of beetle, ten species of butterfly or moth, seven species of hemiptera (aphides, water-beetles, etc.); four species of hymenoptera (bees, wasps, ants, etc.), of which one was a sand-wasp, nearly an inch long; twelve species of diptera (mosquitoes, flies, etc.), two grasshoppers, two dragonflies, and one spider.” The water contained in the pitchers apparently contains some acid or other solvent, by which the insects are slowly digested by the plant; and from the above account it will be seen what a great variety of insect life is entrapped, including even the largest and strongest insects.

On one of the afternoons when we were detained near Vangàindràno, hearing a sugar-cane press at work at one end of the village, we went to look at it in operation. Like many others we saw on this coast, it consisted of a long hollowed-out trough, one end being left solid for a foot or two, thus forming a slightly convex surface, with a channel cut on either side for the expressed juice to run into the trough. Over this and across it was a rounded tree trunk, seven or eight feet long, with three short handles fixed into it; this is turned backwards and forwards over small pieces of cane placed on the convex surface, the juice being expressed by the mere weight of the round trunk. The freshly expressed juice makes a pleasant drink; after a day or two it begins to ferment, and is then much like fresh cider; but it rapidly becomes too heady and intoxicating. A good deal of tòaka (rum) is made, and is a cause of much evil among the coast tribes; but the people here appear not to understand the manufacture of sugar. Their still is as rude a contrivance as their press; an earthen pot to boil the juice, and a piece of iron piping fixed through a vessel of cold water so as to condense the steam which forms the spirit.

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.

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 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 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.

The dinner was, I think, the longest, and certainly was the noisiest, entertainment at which I have ever assisted. About a score of the officers were at the table, and seven of the ladies. After a long grace from the pastor, dinner was brought in, and consisted of the following courses:—1st, curry; 2nd, goose; 3rd, roast pork; 4th, pigeons and water-fowls; 5th, chicken cutlets and poached eggs; 6th, beef sausages; 7th, boiled tongue; 8th, sardines; 9th, pigs’ trotters; 10th, fried bananas; 11th, pancakes; 12th, manioc; 13th, dried bananas; and last, when I thought everything must have been served, came hunches of roast beef! All this was finished up with coffee. By taking a constantly diminishing quantity of each dish I managed to appear to do justice to them all. Claret went about very freely, and at length some much stronger liquor; and the healths of the Queen, “Our friends the two Foreigners,” then those of the Prime Minister, Chief Secretary, and Chief Judge, were all drunk twice over, the Governor’s coming last; all followed by musical (and drum) honours. As already remarked, it was the noisiest affair of the kind at which I have ever been present. There was a big drum just outside in the verandah, as well as two small ones, besides clarionets and fiddles, and these were in full play almost all the time. Then the room was filled by a crowd of servants and aides-de-camp, and the shouting of everybody to everybody, from the governor downwards, was deafening. The old gentleman directed everything and everyone, filled up everybody’s glass, and, in fact, filled up his own more often than was quite good for him, so that he became a little incoherent in the last toasts he proposed; so that I was glad when the finishing one arrived, and I could take my leave after nearly two hours’ sitting. But I was not to leave quietly; again I was taken by the hand, the big drum being hammered at in front of us all the way, and, followed by a posse of officers and ladies, was escorted home by the governor. My invalid friend could well have dispensed with the big drum; however, being a little better, he and I managed to say a few earnest words to them about “the praying”; after which they took their leave. I had afterwards to pay quite a round of visits to our men who were poorly, some with fever, others lame, with feet hurt with thorns, stumbling, etc.

It was fine on the following morning, and as my companion’s fever had left him, although he was still very weak, we determined to get off; but first, there were more visits to be paid, and more presents to be received. Mr Street left first at half-past nine, but I waited until all the baggage was off, and then went to wish our old friend the governor good-bye. But I was not to get away so easily; I was again taken into the chief house, the claret was brought out, and the Queen’s health and our own drunk with military honours. Then I turned to say Velòma; but no, the vigorous old gentleman was going to escort me out of town, and his wives were to accompany us. But some time elapsed in seeking bearers for them, during which I had to go to the lieutenant-governor’s and drink coffee. On returning to the courtyard I found the governor putting a couple of bottles of claret and another of rum into his palanquin, as well as glasses and cups. Sufficient bearers could not be procured for the ladies, so we wished them good-bye, and set off in the following order:—Soldiers, musicians, with drums, clarionet, and violin; “ny havantsika ny Vazàha” (our foreign friend); the lieutenant-governor; the governor; aides-de-camp, soldiers. And so escorted, with the drums, etc., in full play, we marched out of the town. I had supposed that as soon as we were fairly at the foot of the hill the governor would take his leave, but he went on and on for an hour until we came to a rapid stream, the Mànantsìmba. Here we halted; the claret was poured out for more health-drinking, with musical honours; and then the whole of the governor’s men were ordered to take me safely across the river, which they did. From the opposite bank I bowed and shouted my last adieux, and so parted from one of the jolliest old gentlemen I have ever met with in my travels. It struck me as irresistibly comic that, as soon as we had fairly started on our way from the river bank, the musicians struck up a most melancholy strain. As my men said, the governor appeared to be low-spirited at parting with us.

I must add a word or two more about this “fine old Malagasy gentleman, all of the olden time.” It appeared that he had been governor at Ankàrana for more than twenty years, and before then was lieutenant-governor at Mànanjàra. We were somewhat shocked to find that each of the three buxom ladies who accompanied him about was his wife, and further, that he had another as well, whom we did not see. The pastor told us that he had been admonished as to the impropriety of his conduct in this respect, but he had been unable as yet to make up his mind which of them to put away, and which to keep, out of the four. He seemed quite a little king in the district he commanded, and our servants told us that he was a most courageous old fellow, delighted to hear of there being any enemies to be met with anywhere, and going off to fight them with the greatest alacrity. Yesterday, when the feast was being cooked, he sat in the courtyard, gun in hand, shooting first a fowl, then a pigeon, and then a pig, all of which, in addition to what was already preparing, he ordered to be instantly cooked with the rest. They also say that he is very rich, owning five hundred cattle and two hundred slaves, and that he is always most hospitable to all strangers. Certainly we found him to be so. Besides the abundant kindness he showed us at Ankàrana, he sent with us an escort and guides, twelve soldiers, two officers, and a drummer, besides as many baggage bearers as we required to replace the men who were ill.

We were interested to find that many of our bearers met with relatives in these coast provinces. The mothers of several of them were brought up from these parts as slaves, when children, in Radàma’s cruel wars. The most remarkable circumstance was that our cook discovered that one of the governor’s wives at Ankàrana was his mother’s sister. And at the same place another of our men found that the chief people of the Taisàka village were his mother’s brothers.

Our lodging on the evening of the day we left Ankàrana was in another sample of the “well-dunged village,” although we procured a tolerably good house in it. While taking lunch in one of the other villages, we noticed the primitive dishes and spoons used by the people. The former consist of the strong tough leaf of the pandanus-tree, which is doubled over at one end so as to retain rice or liquid. The spoons are pieces of the leaf of the traveller’s tree, folded up so as easily to carry food to the mouth. This pandanus has a fruit, yellow in colour, and something in shape and size like a pineapple without its tuft of leaves. When dry it is brown in colour, and each hexagonal division when separated from the rest is like a tough wooden peg, and utterly uneatable.

Outside a village called Iàboràno I noticed the first appearance of anything like a funeral memorial we have seen since leaving Bétsiléo. This consisted of four poles placed in a line, the two outer ones higher than the others, and the inner ones pointed in a peculiar fashion. These serve the same purpose as the upright stones called tsàngam-bàto in Imèrina. All through the Tanàla country and along this south-eastern coast we have seen no graves or memorials of the dead. I was told that each village has a large pit in, or on the borders of, the forest, where the dead are thrown and are not covered with earth. The corpses are wrapped in coarse matting made of rush.