Ambohimanjaka

For my American friends and family, please do not try to pronounce that word. However you think it is pronounced, you’re wrong. You are so totally wrong. But regardless of the 6 syllable word, Ambohimanjaka is a tiny village along route nationalle 7 (RN7), the road that goes from the capital of Antananarivo to the southern part of the island, that lies in a winding, green valley south of Antsirabe. After a 5-hour bumpy and winding bus ride from Tana, my friend Mananjara and I arrived in Antsirabe where we met our friend Faniry who was the co-leader of the teacher workshop we did together in Antsirabe back in March. She welcomed us to the city, got our bags into her van, and drove us off to her family’s beautiful countryside home where they welcome visitors and friends. I don’t have any pictures of the house. But it reminds me of lake cabins in central and northern Maine. It’s big, spacious, has a loft, and radiates countryside sentiments. That is where we would stay for the next few days. But in the meantime, Faniry drove us to a cute little restaurant where she introduced to one of her English students, Jimmy.

Jimmy is a local guide who studied tourism at the university in Antsirabe. Now like you, I was also curious as to what one learns when they study tourism and have a degree in tourism. I often heard guides talk about how they went to school and studied the subject thoroughly. Nonetheless, I’ve had several guides who seem to have very little concept in the business practices and travel preferences of foreigners who, I assume, is the primary demographic targeted for tourism in Madagascar. So when I inquired about what it is exactly that he learned while studying tourism, Jimmy told me that they mostly learn about local flora and fauna, history, culture, geography, geology, and a few practical parts on how to organize a trek, present the trek to potential clients, and provide alternative activities in the case that one or more of the activities are not possible. In fact, Jimmy told me about one of his big projects during his studies was to find a new hiking/camping route. In that project, he had to test the route himself, write a report about it, and then create a hypothetical itinerary that could be presented to potential clients. For his project, he and his friend went out to a place not too far from where he would actually bring Mananjara, Faniry, and me hiking. But once he and his friend had pitched their tents, the locals, believing they were dahalo spies (dahalo are cattle bandits), surrounded them in the middle of the night with the full intention to kill them. Luckily Jimmy and his friend were able to clarify that they were tourist students working on a project. The lesson is to always get permission from the local villagers before setting up camp.

So during lunch we talked about possible activities we could do from Antsirabe. The cities in Madagascar don’t have much to offer. There are maybe a half-dozen things I can think of that are interesting in Tana, all of which can be done in two days. And since Antsirabe is much smaller and I had already visited their nightly carnival along la rue de la gare, Jimmy was happy to wrack his brain together to find some more interesting things for us. Mind you, I’m no typical tourist in Madagascar. I have a resident card and have been around the rice field a few times. I’m not interested in boring and mundane parts of Madagascar or the stereotypical things like lemurs and beaches. In fact, when I was sorting out travel details with Jean Be, he told me, “You know the tourists don’t really like the Tsaranoro.”

I looked at him and asked, “Why is that, my friend?”

In my head I was thinking, “I’m about to drive almost halfway down this island on crazy and unforgiving roads to spend three days and four nights in Tsaranoro. What do you mean tourists don’t really like it?”

To my relief he told me, “It is because there are no many lemurs there. Only one species; the ringtail. So the tourists who go don’t like it because there are so little lemurs there. There is really only the hiking and camping.”

“Perfect,” I said. “I’ve seen enough lemurs. No more lemurs! All I want to do is hike.”

I told Jimmy the same thing. So he told us about a long hike, about 14mi by the time we finished, and a waterfall along RN7 in the town of Ambohimanjaka. He gave us the price for his guiding services, we thought about it, and at 6:30 the next morning, he and Faniry picked up Mananjara and me for the hour-and-a-half drive to the teeny tiny village of Ambohimanjaka.

Now for those of you who are unaware, I was a certified alpine hike guide in the Swiss Alps for a summer when I worked at Kandersteg International Scout Center. It would be an understatement to say that I like hiking. And when you add the fact that I went to MOUNT St. Mary’s University, it’s not difficult to see that I LOVE, FREAKING LOVE, hiking. It is by far my most favorite activity to do of all time. And I don’t mean some easygoing, flat trail, stop often, and admire every green leaf you see on the way. No. I mean the rock scramble, rough trail, practically going straight up, 10mi minimum, 13-20mi average, feel the burn in your legs, crest the peak, feel the wind, and look over the landscape that stretches beyond what my eyes can see after absolutely demolishing the mountain kind of hiking. If my body isn’t absolutely wrecked by the end of a hike, I’ll be wondering if it was even worth it.

So as you can imagine, my friends saw a different side of me. The side of Nathaniel that doesn’t get to come out often in the congested and air polluted capital. And all they could do was watch me completely puzzled as their energy levels ran low and mine hadn’t seemed to budge and inch. Regardless, our hike through the green mountains was spectacular. The valleys remind me a lot of Switzerland, and there was enough elevation gain to keep me interested. We passed through some villages, talked with some locals, and joked and laughed the whole way. Not much brings people together quite like hiking.

There weren’t many legends or landmarks to tell you about like there will be with the other hiking stories in the coming weeks. The two interesting notes are about burials and this purple flower we saw. In concern to burial, Jimmy told me that whoever dies on this mountain range (the west one), their bodies have to be carried to the mountain range on the other side of the valley (the east one). When I asked why, he didn’t really know how to explain. But it has to do something with the sun. The only people who are buried on the west mountain range are buried at the rocky ridge. There are two piles of stones there that cover their bones. The legend has it that they were warriors coming back from war and that they shot and killed each other. Later, villagers found their bodies and guns and covered up the bodies with stones, a small traditional burial. I’ve seen several burial sites like that. In fact, the ones in Tsingy on the west coast of Madagascar and near Tsaranoro, where I would be headed next, were never completed, meaning you can still see the skulls of the ancestors buried there. I didn’t take any photos of that as it is fady (loosely translated as taboo). In concern to the purple flowers, these beautiful flowers are used for fishing. When I asked how, Jimmy explained that they crush up the flowers, put them in some nets, and lower them into the water. The fish nibble on the flowers and get high. The drugged fish then go limp, and people collect their bodies downstream. Yes, you read this correctly. The purple flowers are grown to drug fish into a coma before collecting their limp bodies. Not very sportsmanlike. But in rural Madagascar, you gotta do what you gotta do.

Our final destination for the hike was a rocky ridge filled with layered rocks that, when falling apart from erosion, break off into little pieces of white quartz rock and even go down into a very fine sand. I was absolute fascinated by the landscape on the top of the ridge which contrasted very differently from the red clay hills surrounding it. We enjoyed a long lunch at the top and took lots of pictures before heading back down and checking out the waterfall not too far away from Ambohimanjaka. After watching the water flow for a while, we packed back up into Faniry’s van and were back off to Antsirabe where we had the most notorious post-hike dinner, pizza, and then said our goodbyes to Jimmy who would not be joining us for the next day’s adventure to lakes Tritriva and Andraikiba. All the photos are below for your enjoyment.

As always, know that you are in my prayers each morning. All I ask is that you do the same for me.

Mya God be praised.

P.S. I should warn you that if there’s any photo that I look like I’m posing, I’m not. That’s simply my normal hiking disposition.