Peak Dondy

Our hike to Peak Dondy (doon-dee) was the longest hike of my journey, about 22mi in total, 6 of which were flat as we had to traverse the valley to get to the east side and cross the shallow river. The legend of Peak Dondy is about Dondy. Dondy was a zebu herder who used to keep his zebu high in the mountains. He lived up there and fought against the invading tribes until he was killed. For his bravery and legend, the peak was named after him.

We had an early morning leaving the camp around 6am. Part of hiking in Madagascar involves navigating the local culture, the fady sy fomba, the taboos and traditions. One of them is getting permission to pass through a village’s land. The process is kind of interesting. Omega, Manal, Peny, and I arrived in a tiny village of maybe 100 people. All the kids came up to me and said hello, waving and smiling. I speak enough Malagasy to communicate, so when I can speak back to them, they get nervous and aren’t sure what to do. Most of the time, they just swarm me and watch what I do awkwardly. Occasionally there’s a brave little Malagasy who will ask me for my name or even something else. Anyways, our expedition arrived to the village where all the big men of the village came out and were crossing their arms to look intimidating, which doesn’t really work when the tallest man there is 5’3” at best. The whole thing, like most Malagasy tradition, is theatrical. Peny thanks them for letting us enter their village. And then he asks them permission to pass through their land and hike the mountain. As part of it all, the men of the village kind of look at each other as if they were actually thinking about saying no, which is unlikely considering we’re about to pay them for passage. They agree, seemingly reluctant although it’s all for show, and grant us permission to travel through their land under the condition that we go with a local guide from their village.

So we got another member of our crew and headed out. The trails were not actually there. But we made our way up and onto the steep plateau where we could see other parts of the valley and the other valley on the other side of the mountain range. As we were overlooking the valley, Peny and the guides were talking about the dahalo problem. Dahalo, the cattle bandits that live out in the boonies of Madagascar, raid villages. They kill people and steal zebu. Peny was telling me that the “trail” we were taking over to the next valley is the one they use when they try to raid the Tsaranoro valley. When I asked him where the dahalo camp was, he just waved his hand across the landscape and said, “everywhere.”

Dahalos have been a major problem for people in rural Madagascar, particularly in the southern part, and zones rouges, red zones where the national government doesn’t have much say on law and order (which could honestly be considered most of the country). The dahalos aren’t really interested in money, just zebu and things they find useful. Any money they do get they use to bribe the gendarme and the army. Most of the time they act as highway bandits on the roads at night, stopping cars, robbing people, and sometimes killing them, indiscriminately. Despite attempts, albeit minor and feeble, to fight the dahalos, they remain the greatest threat to safety in the rural parts of the country. In fact, the gendarme, the paramilitary force of the government which we could compare to an active National Guard or maybe State Troopers in the United States, are part of the problem. Due to the levels of corruption, the dahalo are often armed by corrupt gendarme members, the very people tasked with protecting civilians from the bandits.

Even worse, the dahalos have informants. Manal told me that they always have spies in all the villages. Oftentimes young boys or men who feed the bandits information about the community’s doings, internal conflicts, and the number and quality of zebu in the area. In fact, sometimes jealous neighbors will secretly hire dahalos to raid the people living literally next door to them.

Fortunately, actual dahalo raids have decreased in the recent years. I asked why there’s been a drop in direct dahalo activity, and Peny told me that the local villages have formed their own private militias. They’ve armed themselves and have formed small militia groups to defend the villages. This deterrent has significantly reduced bigger raids which has pushed the dahalo towards highway raiding activity which is much less risky. This fact fascinated me because it means that the local, untrained militia is better at deterring dahalo attacks and defending the villages than the gendarme or the Malagasy army, the forces whose purpose is to protect the civilian population.

Anyways, we moved on and saw a few more cooler things. Such as this boulder.

The boulder has a legend, the kind that doesn’t seem likely. Regardless, legend has it that after the Merina tribe conquered the land, they brought this boulder to Tana to be used as a beating stone where they would beat the rice against it to separate the rice from the stems. Now why they wanted this specific boulder to do that isn’t explained, and it is said that each of the little stones under the boulder represents each of the men who tried to carry because, obviously, they never made it to the capital city, a good 500mi away from where the boulder is currently located.

What was so much more interesting to me was the pools of water at the top of the mountain. Water collects into these pools which eventually overflows and pours down the sides of the mountain, carving unique and super cool formations. I love stuff like this. It gets me going and I could spend hours there just exploring all the different pools of water.

We eventually made it back down the mountain and to the village again where the kids welcomed me. We took a photo, which, now that I think about it, I almost forgot. Peny was really into taking photos. He was taking more photos than I was. Mind you, Peny has lived there his whole life and is probably in his 40s. I asked him, “Maka sary ho an’ny Facebooknao ve ianao?” Are you taking photos for your Facebook? Yes! He, unlike many places that welcome tourists in Madagascar, realized at some point that foreigners love seeing photos of places before they visit to see that it’s worth going. Moreover, they love seeing photos of the guides and happy visitors. So Peny wanted lots of photos with me at key points. In fact, he was training the other local guides with us how to use the camera on the smartphone. I found this point interesting. Watching Peny instruct grown men how to hold the smartphone, how to direct the people, how to get a good angle, how to snap a good shot, you know, all the things that come with taking good photos, was eye-opening in way. Here was this man who was born and raised (and will die) in this valley, in a brick and mud hut who grows rice and herds cattle while welcoming foreigners teaching other village members a seemingly easy skill that would hopefully bring more visitors to their valley. With more visitors, it meant more money, which means a better road, which means more visitors, which means more money, which means better houses, better schools, better churches. In short, what seemed like a little gesture was actually Peny’s way of trying to make his valley’s life better for everyone living there. Now that’s a true and good man.

We got back to Camp Catta in the afternoon after our long day and I parted ways with Peny because I would be leaving Tsaranoro valley the next morning to begin the long drive back to Tana. More importantly, I would be leaving on a Thursday, which meant I could stop by the zebu market in Ambalavao before stopping in a city called Fianarantsoa in the afternoon where we would spend the night and then finish the next 12hr drive the next day.

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

May God be praised.