Rice is the primary crop here, supplying Madagascar with it’s main food.  Abundant rainfall bringing three harvests a year for some, the sweeping valleys are jig sawed with dark brown, golden or green paddy fields, rising into steep terraces. Flashes of red soil peek out from the green, with family clusters of clay houses perched on the ridges, and little basic steepled churches.  The missionaries have been busy here.  On either side of the road the soil is scarred and barren, eroding with each rainy season; sad evidence of ‘tavy’, the slash-and-burn farming that is prevalent all over Madagascar. Condemned by conservationists, it is an economic necessity for a people whose first priority is to feed their rapidly expanding families.  Back to our ever present query regarding birth control.

The key to success in these small local buses is location, location, location.  Joseph tries to snag us the front seats or he sits up at the front window and I happily claim the window seat behind the driver so I don’t have to do the “Chinese fire drill” movements; and wait as a steady stream of new companions cram in next to me.  The variety in the bus is like a colorful coffee table book on the faces, hats and smiles of these friendly Malagasy villagers.  At first they are almost shocked to see a ‘vahaza’ on board, let alone sitting next to one, as most tourists are just white faces peering out through the glass of private vehicles or in small tour busses.  In pods tourists are taken around to sample local life in a staged visit to a village, craft shop, market or school.   The real locals are waiting, with open arms to welcome you into their culture, just by taking the local transport or wandering back streets.  It is so easy here.  Before you know it you are learning new words, meeting babies and Grandmas, invited home with them, being asked to take their photo, sharing our pictures of home,”Here is Mama, our two kids, brother………………….” 

While walking the streets we are usually joined by curious onlookers or those wanting to practice their limited English and we are often dragged inside yards or houses to have a look and meet the whole family.  Occasionally a “wanna be” guide picks you up, desperate for work like everyone else here, but once told “Thanks, but we don’t use guides,” there is no pressure.  Groups of boys may ask politely for a football (soccer ball) or street urchins, dirty beyond belief, may ask for money or food but nothing compared to India.  One would never know how desperately poor these folks are as their bright shining smiles show a contentment and happiness seldom seen in the west.  Like we have asked in the past, “Who is richer?”  One of our favorite fellows in Fiana (Place where Good is Learned) was little Thomas.  Pushing a long stick with two tiny wheels on it through the market, he casually asked us how we were.  We invited him to walk along with us and we soon discovered that this ragged little guy was brilliant, knowing English better than some teachers we have met, all from his limited instruction at school.  He never once asked us for anything but stuck tight with us for hours as we bought vegetables for dinner, poked through the witchcraft and herbal medicine sections, shared oranges in the shade, talking the whole time and encouraging him to keep studying English, work hard, and someday he would have a job he enjoyed.   Our last stop was a store to surprise him with a writing tablet and pen for his studies.  With a shiny sticker placed in front, our names and website address inside, along with a paragraph of encouragement, he was so excited we thought the wide smile on his little mouth would burst.  Another genuine encounter, of the real kind.

The rolling hills and narrow streets of Anstiribe, are lined with market stalls and stands selling the festive local handicrafts.  Everything possible carved in wood from neckties to bowls to full on bedroom suites are displayed and if you listen carefully you can hear the tap tap tapping of the carvers in their workshops.  Since leaving the capitol we haven’t seen another traveler and it is soon apparent that there is no one to buy their wares.  We look and chat but buying a 4 foot tall bowl with lid, isn’t exactly what we can carry.  No pressure only smiles, even though we always want  to buy something from each craftsperson. All through the central highlands are the unique, brightly painted ‘pousse pousse’ rickshaws, pulled by one man power.  Strong drivers wearing tattered clothes, muscles rippling, RUN by at full speed, as if sprinting to the finish line of a race, hauling enormous loads or seats full of bouncing passengers.  Usually we walk everywhere, so at first we felt a little decadent being pulled along, but then noticed that this is the only mode of transport besides scarce private vehicles.  Everyone uses them and provides income for these hard working fellows.              

Arriving at dusk we settled into our hotel and had to walk down the completely dark main road to the only restaurant nearby.  Small stands with tiny oil lamps sell peanuts or skewers of bbq meat, as dark shapes and shadows pass you.  We didn’t feel the least bit threatened as the further you get from cities the more laid back things become.  Soon I was in the back kitchen of the restaurant pantomiming what I needed to cook our meal.  I turned up the lively Malagasy music blaring from the ever present radio and half a dozen or so cooks and helpers showed me the latest dance moves.  At one point, in their amazement that we didn’t want any meat, someone presented me with a small bouillon cube.  Enquiring what it was made of, I asked ‘poulette”? (remembering my kitchen French from Canada), followed by a rousing imitation of a chicken.  This just got the crowd going as one after another imitated cows, pigs, roosters, even fish.  What a hoot!  Whatever was in that magic cube had tears running down our faces with laughter.   When dinner was done they wouldn’t let me leave the kitchen until we danced another full song, dancing my way out to my poor hungry husband.  Cooking over wood fires, my heart as well as my hands were warmed on that dark, chilly night.

As we travel along mysteries unravel and answers are revealed.  We just need to remember to remain open.  Such is the case with our discovery of MMS.  We believe in prevention with health and are always on the look out for ways to boost our immune system, so that we can stay healthy and strong.  Good health is the key to happy and successful travel, and for that matter, life in general.  For us the simplest method is often the best and the closest to Nature the better.  We carry everything we own with us, and although one quarter of my 18 inch suitcase is filled with ‘health items’, there certainly isn’t extra room for bottles and bags of western health supplements.  We all know how the whole model of western medicine revolves around pharmaceuticals and surgery, which have their place occasionally.  We instead try to access the wisdom, often ancient, of the cultures we visit.  China and India were a cornucopia of health knowledge and Africa, with only one allopathic doctor for every 50,000 people, has revealed yet another health secret to these eager to learn travelers.  We gladly test out new options.  It is easy to be guinea pigs with herbs as they don’t have all the side effects of chemical drugs.   We hope that the new World Trade CODEX regulations taking effect the end of 2009 won’t limit everyone’s freedom of choice in health care and or supplements.  Any good news on this, drop us a line. (Pass the word around and become part of the solution to this problem).    

Simple organic chemistry explains the success of MMS drops in preventing and treating malaria, some forms of cancer, and a slew of other diseases.  The hard work and admirable determination of Jim Humble has presented this gift to the world.  ‘Discovered’ in a life and death situation, while prospecting in the jungles of South America, the lives of his Engineering colleagues were hanging by a thread.  Jim has overseen the cure of over 75,000 cases of malaria in Africa, the world’s largest killer.  Back home he has been amazed at the success in treating all sorts of health ailments, often life threatening, common in our lives.  There are NO side effects, although to get the proper results one should follow the initial week long detox, then simply 4-6 drops daily as maintenance.  Click here for info:  (www.mmsadvisor.com)   Marketed as a water purifier to avoid controversy, his only aim is to tell as many people as possible worldwide about his discovery, and at $20 for a years supply, this is obvious.  Interested? Not feeling as healthy and strong as you would like?  Go to the official website: (www.jimhumble.biz) or Click here: for more info on how we have used MMS traveling and other ideas on staying healthy in our recently updated  Thoughts on Health page.

And so it goes…………………………………..Next month more of this fascinating island, Madagascar.  Until then let’s remember to be flexible and embrace the changes in life.  Focus on changing ourselves, not those around us.  Again, thanks for sharing this website with friends.  Our circle of friends and viewers is growing monthly.    Keep Changing!  Keep Smiling!  Glad you stopped by.  Take care!