The next day dawned exceedingly bright
and very early, but we found we didn't mind. Since we had no electric
lights other than a couple of torches, we all happily adapted to a
sunrise-to-sunset clock – and when the sun rose at about
five-thirty, by six o'clock it was far too bright and hot to stay in
bed for long.
We breakfasted on fresh fruit and black
coffee, consoled Mark for his murderous sentiments towards the
chickens adjacent to his hut, and then it was all aboard the Salaama
Tsara for a morning of
snorkelling on the coast of South Afrika Island. I found a stingray
(happily some distance from me), Mark found pretty shells on the
beach, and Tim stayed in the water so long that we began to wonder if
he'd ever return. As we chugged back towards Russian Bay, we passed a
peculiar beehive-shaped island named Ankivonjy, and watched flocks of
beautiful white birds with long tails flying around the cliffs.
“What
are those called, Henri? The white-tailed birds”
“Them?
Called “white-tailed tropicbird””.
Yup.
So much for imaginative naming.
 |
| Boatlife |
After
lunch back in Russian Bay, Henri took us for a stroll through the
nearby village and up the hill. The first thing he showed us was a
large tree with a set of logs (for use as seating) arrayed around it.
This, Henri explained, was the village's sacred tree. When a boon was
required, one would come and tie a white cloth and a red cloth to the
tree, leave a case of beer, offer rum, and later one would return
(presumably after fulfilment of the boon) and pour the beer on the
ground with elaborate ritual. We listened in interest, and then,
aware that the Malagasy have many fady
(taboos) relating to their spiritual beliefs (such as not pointing at
tombs, or photographing them), we asked whether it was permitted to
photograph the tree, and walk as close to it as we were.
“But
of course,” replied Henri, looking bemused.
“Well,
we just don't want to offend anyone, so please tell us if we're about
to do anything inappropriate, since this sacred tree is right next to
our campsite. Is there anything we must be careful not to do?”
Henri thought for a
few seconds, before responding solemnly “Just don' mak' the toilet
on it, OK?”
Following
that revelation, the rest of the walk with burrowing crabs, a fish
sunbathing in a mangrove tree (mudskippers seem terribly confused
creatures), a sea eagle, and a plethora of children making rude
noises and laughing at the vahaza
had a lot to live up to.
 |
| Mudskipper. In a mangrove tree. |
But it managed it, with the addition of
further rum and fireflies on the beach near the sacred tree when we
got back to camp.
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