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Day 4. Tsiribihina River
After breakfast out luggage is loaded onto a wooden car which looks like it has just arrived from a Flinstones-episode.
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| Fragment of the "permit" |
For the boat trip we need permits so we had to bring our passports
to the mayor of Miandrivazo earlier. Today, an impressive typed
document full of stamps is ready for us in his office. It contains
5 pieces and needs to be signed with not less than fifteen signatures;
five from me, five from Rija and five from the Piroguier,
who cant write or read so he signs with a thumb print.
After the administrative part is dealt with we get ourselves some wooden hats to protect us from the sun and we walk to the river. By now the Flinstones vehicle is about to collapse under the heavy weight of our luggage, the camping equipment and last but not least, two live chickens. All of this is loaded onto the pirogue by an army of (i actually counted them) 30 men. It almost looks like as if we're about to go on the Megatransect expedition! Around the boat, people are doing laundry in the muddy river or bathing - bare naked. Embarrassment must be a typical western thing.
When the military operation is fulfilled and our hollow trunk
is loaded up, we finally start paddling down the Tsiribihina
river. The reddish-brown river is shallow but flows fast and
so our trunk is floating downstream rapidly and from time to
time it leans left or right, just a tiny bit too much to make
us feel comfortable. One just doesn't want to think about tipping
over and going under in a fast flowing mud pool, together with
the luggage, but Rija is laughing about our concerns. He has
never tipped over, he says. Nothing will happen. Just do not
move!
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| De Pirogue is ready for takeoff |
Above the water and along the shores we spot many red birds
(Madagascar Red Fody). They dress-to-impress only
this time of year, for the rest they wear a dull, brown color.
Except for some other birds, there's not much to see during the
long trip. At the places where we dock, children come out to
observe us in silence
While we're having a lunch of tomato, cucumber and sardines,
we decide to share it with the kids. They enjoy it a lot and
eat everything, including the bones and the oil. I figure that
it would be fun if the kids find us a chameleon, as we haven't
seen one until now. I ask Rija to do the proposal. The mad enthusiasm
i expected turns out to be a disappointment; just one person
lifts his eyebrow and looks in the tree above, and that's that.
So far for the search.
We continue downstream and suddenly I wonder how this boat will ever get back to where it came from. It's simple, says Rija: Mr Langa, the Piroguier, will push it back. Upstream, with a stick. It will take him two weeks. By the time our vacation in Madagascar is almost over, this poor man will be still underway!
The malaises have a strong system. We noticed that earlier from
the food sold on the markets, but Rija is the ultimate proof.
While i sometimes look in horror to the indefinable foamy waste
floating by in the river, he just fills his cup with river water.
To drink it!
As the evening approaches we dock onto a sandbank in the center
of the river. The sun sets down behind the mountains and the
purper-red glow offers a spectacular look. While Rija is preparing
dinner we organize our tent, which turns out to be at least 20
centimeters too short for me. We collect wood for the campfire
with mr. Langa.
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| Camping on a sandbank |
As soon as the sun is down, evil announces itself for the first
time in the shape of thousands of jumping, flying and crawling
insects. But they, on their turn, are scared away by another
unexpected enemy: wind! This wind is getting stronger and stronger
and our small tent is more than once blown flat to the ground.
We kinda worry about the idea being completely isolated from
the outside world, in an area that's just been visited by a devastating
cyclone, but Rija calmly notices that the wind (which by now
feels like a hurricane) will lie down soon.
By now our tummies are growling and so we attack the food like
hungry wolves: cooked zebu meat with veggies. It tastes delicious
and we take the sand in it for granted.
Rija once again turns out to be right: the wind lies down. We
settle down by the fire and stare at the trillions of flickering
stars above us. This is a true experience of Madagascar according
to us, and I tell Rija this is something unforgettable. "Because
of the wind, right? " he asks. Right..to him it's business
as usual.
The only dissonance this night is coming from the chicken, who are still awaiting their gruesome faith.
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