I’m excited as the red hills of Tana come into view, though a bit apprehensive. I’m never really sure if my luggage will be here or sitting lost at one of my many stops along the way. And, if my bags have made the trip then what will the customs officials have in store for me this time? You just never know.
It’s raining heavily and I get soaked walking across the tarmac from the plane to the terminal. Once inside, I stand in the long sans visa line and watch the luggage carousel for my bags. They might be black, but since my husband strapped huge hot pink tags to the handles I really can’t miss them. They’re probably visible from space. With one eye on the bags, I watch as my passport is passed from one hand to the next. I’m distracted by a large wall poster over my head. I can’t read French but the picture of a young girl curled up in the fetal position on a bed tells me all I need to know. Sex trafficking is a huge problem here in Madagascar and the officials are doing what they can to get the word out.
The visa line moves quickly and soon I am heaving 140 pounds of black bag and hot pink tag onto a tiny cart. I take a deep breath and move toward customs, holding an official letter from Ancient Path in my hand. I greet the officer in Malagasy with a smile that says please be gentle. He returns both the greeting and the smile, asks me if I have anything to declare and waves me on without opening a suitcase. And people say there is no God.
Ibrahim and Cathy Ravoahangy are there to meet me and while we are hugging and kissing each other’s cheeks a swarm of men grab my cart and head for the door. Eight men for one cart and all are expecting a large tip. Cathy asks me to get into the car so she can handle it. I get into the car but a man opens my door and reaches his hand towards my purse. He wasn’t really reaching for my purse, he just had his hand out for a tip but I reacted instinctively and closed the door on the poor guy’s hand. I apologize profusely, he forgives generously and everyone gets a tip. Welcome to Madagascar:)
I love the ride through these familiar streets – rows upon rows of roadside stands filled with vegetables and sausages and bread. Oh this bread! I remark that nothing has changed but my friends say, yes but it is poorer now. It’s true, everything looks a bit shabbier, a bit hungrier.
We arrive at the Ravoahangy house which will be my base until I leave for Toliara. The bougainvillea is in full bloom outside my apartment door and the view of the Tana hills from my window is as beautiful as ever.
On Saturday, we leave to visit several villages where they have been working. Ibrahim shows me photos of the road to one of the villages involving a mountain pass and a river. A single log is the only thing between us and the water when we cross that river. Looks fun:)
God willing and if the river doesn’t rise, I’ll post more from Tana next week!
