I suffer from a travel bug, it is an addiction I admit. I feel like if I can collect the courage to get out of my comfort zone and unlock this hidden door to these new places, I will find rooms full of treasures - not of gold but of discovery, wonder and endless possibilities. I challenge myself to find where my limits are; I try to see how far I can push myself and somehow, I always seem to overestimate my abilities. In my mind, I can always do it.
Madagascar is the world’s fourth-largest island. It is more like a mini-continent. If you look at a map of Madagascar's west coast, it’s only 266 miles from Mozambique. One assumes that Madagascar shares a similar assortment of creatures with Africa, but this is not the case. Madagascar has no elephants, no lions, no rhinos, no giraffes and no other primates like monkeys baboons, or apes. Madagascar's wildlife is characterized by an assortment of creatures found nowhere else on the planet but there. How did that happen? What caused this uniqueness? More than 160 million years ago, Madagascar separated from mainland Africa. At that time, modern African animals didn't yet exist. That is why, most of the plant and animal species in Madagascar evolved separately, taking their own evolutionary paths apart from the rest of the world. David Attenborough who brought the first images of the island to the outside world in the early 1960s described: "A place where antique outmoded forms of life that have long since disappeared from the rest of the world still survive in isolation."
Evidence suggests that no one lived on the island prior to the Christian era - an astonishing fact considering Madagascar’s proximity to the cradle of humankind in nearby Africa. The aboriginals of Madagascar were the Vazimba, who were considered a mysterious people - dwarfs. They may have been amongst the settlers who arrived by canoes from areas around Borneo some 1500 years ago. The second wave of immigrants were the Arabs, arriving between the 7th to the 12th centuries and the Bantu speaking Africans. This mix created Madagascar's unique culture and language (Malagasy). Europeans arrived only in the 16th century. The Portuguese, led by Diego Diaz, discovered the Island in the year 1500. From that time the trade of slaves and weapons started. In 1896, the French colonists invaded Madagascar and it became a French colony until June 1960 when it finally gained independence.
It is my first day here. I am in a semiconscious state, I have just flown half way across the world. Arrival is dramatic. A couple of days before our flight, I randomly find out that there are riots happening in Antananarivo, the capital. People demanding basic rights like electricity and water. Twenty two people are reported dead. Flights are cancelled. We find ourselves stranded in CDG airport for thirteen hours, sitting by customer service, not totally sure if our flight will take off or not. Finally we make it to Antananarivo - called Tana by the locals. The streets are patrolled by many armed guards. Our tour guide circles our hotel before our arrival to see if it’s safe. Curfew is in place from 8 PM till 4 AM. On our way we see unbelievable poverty. People mostly live in shacks without running water and electricity is off and on. Mostly off. Once in the hotel, we are advised to stay in. From our balcony overlooking the city, it looks quiet - there is a beautiful sunset over a mix of colonial-era buildings and slums to more modern brick and iron houses. We hear some demonstrators chanting in the distance but no signs of violence. Everything sounds more scary and alarming from far away, exaggerated by the media.
In the am we drive back to the airport for our shuttle to the north east coast for our first rain forest expedition. I am so excited. I love being on a small plane, floating in the air, seeing the world from up above. Madagascar unfolds like a world untouched. Ribbons of rainforests, rusty-red earth, patchwork of green and brown areas that are rice paddies and a coastline that is so turquoise it tempts me to dive right in. Back on land, we drive on a bumpy road until we get to the ocean where a boat is waiting to take us to Masoala Rainforest Lodge. The ocean is rough, not at all what I expect. Waves are sizable. Some are two meters high. We bump and bump and hold on tight. My wrists are red from gripping the chair. I remember how when we boarded, we were asked if any of us suffer from sea sickness and I made a joke. Not so funny anymore. The ride takes over two hours but we finally arrive. The Masoala peninsula is remote and it looks like the edge of a lost world. It is covered in dense emerald rainforest spilling into the sea - SALAMA - we have arrived.
Masoala
It has been a challenging few days. Did anyone mention RAIN forest??? Thirty hours of non-stop rain. Everything in our tent is damp. Our sheets, our pillows, blankets and towels. We go on night walks with our local guide. The rain has soaked through everything I wear. It seeps into me slowly and relentlessly. Yet my eyes are wide, my senses heightened and I wonder what might be unfolding beyond my sight. Every now and then I see beams sweeping through the darkness. It’s the flashlights of another search group scanning for movement, for shadows. Then all of a sudden, my eyes land on a pair of glowing orange dots in the dark. Those shining eyes belong to nocturnal lemurs. We get acquainted with the tiny, round-eyed mouse lemur, the world's smallest primates. The dwarf lemur with its soft grayish - brown fur sleeping in a hollow of a tree and the white footed sportive lemur, sitting upright on a tree trunk. Lemurs are among the most primitive of living primates. Sadly, we didn't encounter the elusive Aye-Aye with its long, thin middle finger, bulging eyes of an owl, teeth of a rat and a black, bushy tail similar to a squirrel. In much of rural Madagascar the Aye-Aye is one that brings misfortune. If an Aye-Aye points its long middle finger at you it's an omen that someone will soon die. Because of this, people have killed Aye-Ayes to prevent bad luck. We walk in silence, not to disturb the quietness of the forest, then a voice calls out: "Brookesia" - a general name for the leaf chameleon. The green chameleon is the size of a Guinea pig with its curved scaly back, coiled tail and swiveling, gun turret eyes. When looking at it, something suddenly darts out from its mouth; a tongue? It catches and eats the flies with such speed that even in the twinkling of my eye, I can hardly observe the action.
In 1841 a young enslaved boy by the name of Edmond Albius, age 12, figured out how to hand pollinate the vanilla orchid which otherwise refused to fruit outside of Mexico. His simple technique done with a stick and his fingers unlocked large scale production, making Madagascar the world's most famous vanilla bean producer. Edmond Albius never received any financial compensation and died in poverty.
Next morning, our first primary forest hike is harsh (It is called primary because the trees have never been cut). We climb up in muddy, difficult terrain from sea level to 650 meters. The trail is barely a trail, swallowed by roots and vines that slither across the mud. The giant vines rise like sculptures from the ground with thorns threatening to knock me over. Each step is a small battle, mud sucking at my Hoka shoes, I breathe heavily. Up and up we go, my legs are shaking and my calves are "oh so sore". But the red ruffed lemurs we are searching for are high up in the canopy and they don’t come down to play. Back in camp, tired and disappointed, I lay my feet up on our bed and I let my gaze wander on top of the trees in front of me. Then, from the side of my eye, I detect a white fronted brown lemur, then another brown male lemur happily eating the fruits of a large pandanus tree just in front of our tent. If I have only known, I would have skipped the morning climb all together!
Andasibe National Park
The "road" from Tana, the capital, to Andasibe is one of the worst I've ever experienced. It has more potholes than paved areas. We are wobbling, swaying and fishtailing like a sack of potatoes in our car, while our guide and driver poke at us and say it is an "African massage". We pass by rice paddies, workers in straw hats wade through the water. We see people making mud bricks, quarries of granite, and laundry being dried on bushes and banks. 80% of Malagasy people are farmers, Rice is the main crop, and the people consume it in huge quantities, they eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Next morning we wake up with the song of the Indri lemurs penetrating through the forest and into our dreams. It is a weird sound, it's loud, eerie wailing ringing out through the trees. It is almost like a shofar on the day of atonement. We jump out of bed excited at the prospect of seeing these unique creatures. The Indri is the largest living lemur with long legs that allow them to leap up to 30 feet between trees. It is mix of a panda, a koala and a monkey. Indris are monogamous and live in a family group. Their "long call" can carry over two kilometers and this is how they communicate and defend their territory. Legend has it that a boy fell down from a tree while collecting honey, the Indri swooped in to catch him, saving his life. From that point on, the Indri is considered sacred and not to be harmed.
Watching our guide Liva, move through the forest, stepping soundlessly through the leaf litter, scouting the canopy of trees for a sign. A no nonsense kind a guy who keeps reminding us, me in particular, that in the forest you need to have patience. Mora, mora - slowly slowly. Liva mimics the Indri's call and in no time the Indris show up. They play in the canopy above us, they chase each other, tumble and leap from branch to branch in an energetic display. From here on it is an easy hike through the forest where four diurnal (during the day) lemur species reside. We find the diademed sifakas in a playful mood. We are struck by their unique appearances, long silky multi-color fur and "diadem" or crown of white fur around a dark face and "human-like" gestures. While on the ground, their two-legged sideways hop is also a unique and a charming sight.
Lemur Island is a sanctuary for lemurs that were lost or abused by the locals. Here, they are fed and nursed until they can take care of themselves and released back into the wild. Madagascar is one of the least developed countries in the world, trapped in a cycle of poverty, leading to issues like malnutrition, inadequate access to healthcare and education. The average monthly salary is 64 dollars per month. So it is no wonder that lemurs were captured in the wild and sold in the pet trade market. Since the lemurs feel protected here, they have gotten used to humans and don't feel threatened by us. A bunch of black and white ruffed lemurs come very close to me, they appraise me with their wide-eyed stare, then seemingly decide I pose no threat to them and they let me hang out with them - a close encounter. How lucky am I to have the privilege of the company of this serene life form?
Tsingy de Bemaraha
And then there are the landscapes – eccentric, colorful and full of contrasts, We are on route towards the Tsingy de Bemaraha, "the spiny forest", a UNESCO World Heritage site. This otherworldly landscape is composed of towering limestone pinnacles that appear to defy gravity. The name,“Tsingy,” is derived from the local Malagasy term for “where one cannot walk barefoot". Since I have a fear of heights, I don't sign up for hiking the grand circle as it involves walking through narrow, dark caves and crossing a suspended bridge. This is so nerve-wracking for chickens like me that I have to say no. Then the devil in me, against all logic and any common sense, persuaded me to try it nevertheless. As we take off, we are notified by our pilot that heavy rains are expected within a couple of hours and that it might cause flash floods in the Tsingy area. The fear is that if we stay too long on the ground, we might be trapped without being able to take off. All that means, that hiking the big circle which includes the suspended bridge, is out - I am saved. To sweeten the bitter pill, our pilot circles low around the Tsingy for fifteen minutes. From the plane's view point, the landscape is very dramatic, the jagged grey pinnacles blend into the overcast sky, giving it a monochromatic, silver grey tone, like ghostly towers rising from smoke. Down below, we are advised to take a short walk to the observation point and back before the rain starts. I try as best I can, not to step on the razor sharp limestones and not to get cut - a challenging task. On our short walk I have a close encounter with maybe thirty rufous brown lemurs playing on the rocks above us. The reddish brown females have babies wrapped around their middle. The babies are very curious about us and so cute. Finally we reach the observation point. While I imagined it to be a nice indoor cafe serving hot coffee and pastries overlooking the spectacular view, it turned out to be a panoramic observation point outside in the wind with no coffee or pastries to bite into. Alas, still spectacular.
According to legend, in the early 19th century, the Antankarana king Tsimiaro led his people into the Tsingy to escape capture. When they were finally cornered, they took refuge in a sacred cave, they prayed to their ancestors for protection and the cave collapsed behind them, sealing them inside. The cave is said to hold their bones and is treated as fady (taboo) to disturb.
Kirindy national park and the Baobab trees
People fly from all over the world to see the Baobab Avenue. These trees can live 1000 years and their trunks can store thousands of liters of water - vital to Madagascar's dry climate. For Malagasy people, the baobab is more than a tree, it is a being with spirit and memory. Legends say the gods planted them upside down in the sky because they forgot them, so their roots are in the air. Another story says the baobabs were so sad seeing their reflection in the lake that they were planted upside down to hide their shame.
So here we are. The road to the baobabs in the late afternoon light, dust greets us on the unpaved road that hopefully is leading towards something of a promise - a solitude among the giant trees. I imagine myself watching the sun go down behind their ancient silhouettes - a symbol of beauty and mystery. Alas, as we step outside the car, there are voices, laughter, footsteps. We find ourselves surrounded by hundreds of people, all looking west, striking the same sunset pose by the baobabs. it becomes a festival of tripods and selfie-sticks pointed at every direction - a harsh realization. But then, as the sun sinks, brushing the horizon with red colors, all of a sudden the noise softens. Hundreds of breaths catch all at once. For one single moment, it is quiet. We all stand there speechless, enjoying the moment that belongs to us all. We are one - one pulse - one gaze. Apparently, Baobab Avenue is one of the most photographed nature sites in the world... Tomorrow, we will get up at 4 am to be the first one at sunrise.
For people in Madagascar, zebu are far more than just cattle, they are a cornerstone of culture, economy, and daily life. Zebus are cows with a hump, they symbolizes wealth, are crucial for agriculture and transport and are central to many important rituals and ceremonies. They are a visible sign of social status, used for meat, milk, to pull heavy loads and even after death, their horns may be displayed on tombs to show the deceased's importance. In some communities, a man must offer zebu to his future father-in-law to ask for his daughter's hand in marriage.
We leave the coast of Morondava for the deeper interior. Throughout the three hour drive, the road narrows and grows rougher, then it opens to dry deciduous forest with gold light and bird calls. Our main interests here are the fossa and the jumping lemurs - the Verreaux's sifaka. The fossa is Madagascar’s apex predator that dines primarily on lemurs. Not a cat or a dog or a mongoose, it’s an evolutionary oddity - not entirely understood. We stay in the outskirts of Kirindy forest - a rustic bungalow, mosquito net, fan, an open air shower, already deep into the wilderness. By our global luxury standards it isn't glamorous. It is a pause in between day and night, late afternoon, when we rush to find the fossa. We know our chances are slim but as luck has it, we almost immediately spot one around the reserve's trash dump. There it is, barely three meters away from us, a fossa, looking up directly at... me. For a few seconds, our eyes meet - curious but cautious. I feel a rush of excitement coursing through my body at the sight of this muscular golden-eyed animal. Then the predator effortlessly jumps up and leaves without looking back.
A short walk through the forest outside our bungalow, we spot the graceful white form of Verreaux's sifaka dancing sideways across the ground. Those sifakas have unique bipedal movement, they hop sideways with their legs and arms stretched for balance and it looks like a dance to human observers. The better part is that they seem to pay absolutely no mind to our presence, then they decided to tease us and jump all around us and even touch Jason's behind before they jump up and disappeared.
Tragically, most of Madagascar's natural vegetation has already been destroyed over the past two millennia. This is due to a long standing need for farm land and firewood. Rough estimates indicate that 90% of the original natural vegetation is now gone - with only 10% of the original rain forest remaining. It is predicted that if deforestation continues this pace, within 20-30 years there will be no lemurs left.
Tsarabanjina
After leaving Kirindy, I couldn't stop thinking about how wild and alive this place really is. The calls of the night creatures, the dancing of the sifakas and the warm welcoming Malagasy people. In Tana, we say our goodbyes to Nandih, our guide extraordinaire, we fly and take a boat ride across a clear turquoise sea to Tsarabanjina - a tiny island in the Mitsio Archipelago, north of Nose Be. As we approach, the island appears like a green gem rising from the ocean surrounded by white sand and coral reefs. The crew standing on the beach waves to us in welcome. And all I can hear are the sound of the waves and some seabirds. What a contrast to the wild forest it is.
In our last days in Madagascar there was a coup. The president fled from the country and the army joined the protesters in a revolt that overthrew the president. The army took control over the country and Colonel Randrianirina was sworn in as the new president. Even though I wish them best of luck with all my heart and I hope the country finds it's way out from poverty and they get the human rights they deserve, once again, our flight has been canceled. And once again we anxiously have been looking to find a way out and back home.
What started with a travel-bug ended with a heart full of gratitude, for the people, the lemur calls, the dust that penetrated into my lungs and the stories that feel half myth, half- memory. I found rainforests humming with nocturnal lemurs the size of a tea cups. I chased the Indris at dawn and the baobabs at sunset. I heard the ancestors hiding among stone forests. I stepped into a world in which I was half guest, half explorer. I found tenderness in small encounters - how the sacred, practical and mythical coexist without contradiction. In the end, I have achieved something truly unique. Besides it being a physical accomplishment - it was my spirit that pushed me forward, that helped me move through my discomfort so I can discover possibilities I didn't know existed.
Photography by Jason McBride and Irit Raz-McBride
For more stories, please enter my website @iritraz.com