Sound cocoon and rice fields beauty

Jumping into the taxi-be

 

 

 

I almost fell twice taking the taxi-be. I’m doing some sport in coming for work. In the morning and now the afternoon, people are pushing to get into taxis-be. Everybody is pushing. I don’t dare to do it but after 20 minutes or so waiting, I have to join the trend. At least 6 or 7 taxis-be were impossible to get into because they were not even stopping because they were full or you had to be small and quick (I was almost refused!). Twice, I grabbed the joint of the door and I was about to fall because it disjointed. Passengers held their breath, fearing I would fall but finally, I was alright.

 

I even have bruises because of taxi-besque acrobatics.

 

 

 

The absolute necessity of escaping into the green

 

 

 

During the weekend, we walked to the extreme East of Antananarivo, further Itaosy. It was so good to properly breathe. This walk was also a poetic discovery of rural Antananarivo. After dusty streets, we walked into rice fields and went next to a place called the peninsula. During monsoon, it is a proper island, almost cut from the rest of the world.

 

It is actually austral winter and the weather is very dry. Rice fields are cracked ground that people are using to make bricks. This ground looks like clay with peat under. We crossed the path of zebus on paths which looked like giant dinosaur spin bone into these rice fields. We finally arrived to a branch of river where the water was ocker. We were facing few vegetable and fruit cultures and a little house. We sat there, next to the water and I’ve found back my beloved nature. Water and Wind were singing a harmonious and sweet song, the gentle Sun was caressing. I felt and saw my horizon wide. I could finally see houses, hills and different coloured houses forming a patchwork far away.

 

The weather is getting a bit warmer and I love it. It is even hot if you’re staying into the sun! However, some people still cough, maybe because of pollution.

 

 

 

Promiscuity

 

 

 

Walking into a street market at Itaosy, I feared to walk on a hen, a fish or a duck, not to see a hole and put my foot into brackish water or even feel zebu offal caressing my face. You always have to be careful of thousand of things in here, in urban areas. Pickpockets and other minor crimes are quite usual here. You always have to dispatch money everywhere on your outfits and have enough cash (as almost everything is paid in cash) but at the same time, not too much. The problem is that sometimes, I can forget how much I’ve got on my thousand caches. Anyway, the habit will come...

 

Promiscuity is a daily matter for me. My thighs could be inserted in someone’s else in taxis-be, I can smell the receiver’s breathe or feel ribs of my neighbour going up and down as he was breathing.

 

 

 

Sound cocoon

 

 

 

Our only link with the rest of the world at home is radio. It is my favourite media. I miss doing some radio...Recently, I stayed one hour listening to a program about a blind traveller on RFI (Radio France International). I was very interested by the theme for personal reasons. I was fascinated by his life and I was drinking his words. I would like to take some ambient sounds but it is a bit touchy as I had to be very discreet if I don’t want to attract thieves or other curious people. I really miss listening and doing music. Still no speakers because of no time...

 

 

 

Extremes

 

 

 

Sailing between extremes is not an easy task. Extreme poverty, extreme wealth. Everyday outfit can be a challenge. How to come at work with a corporate outfit and not been stared at into taxis-be? I’m thinking of leaving corporate clothes at work and getting into taxis-be with casual clothes. Especially from the day I felt something almost tearing my pants into a taxi-be...

 

Apparently, it is quite common in Canada to change when you arrive at work. Thinking back, I was already doing it in Adelaide when I was riding my bicycle and then going into cookery courses with my chef uniform.

 

 

 

Goodbye André...

 

 

 

I’ve heard about André Pangrani’s death this week. I was and I am still very sad about this news. I only had an exchange of emails with the founder of a Reunionnese comic magazine, Le Cri du Margouillat and founder of the excellent Reunionnese literature magazine Kanyar (which means bad boy in Reunionnese creol). When I was living in Australia, I was looking for a Reunionnese magazine and I’ve found Kanyar. I had one delivered in Australia and I was so proud to have it into my hands. I was so happy and proud to financially support this magazine. I even dared to ask if I could send a script to be published in Kanyar and he gently answered me that, yes, it was possible to join the team. I wanted to write for Kanyar. I wanted to be part of the team, discussing with him and all of them. I never dared to write. It looks like hiking Mount Everest and to be too noble activity for me. But finally, once my sorrow will be gone, I should-must write. Maybe André Pangrani would have told me to do it.

 

 

 

Dry clothes only

 

 

 

There are more and more military on streets during the day. All street vendors from the Ikopa’s bridge disappeared during the ‘Jeux de l’océan Indien’ (Indian ocean sport games) for a week. It sounds a bit like Rio de Janeiro...

 

The upcoming ‘Sommet de la Francophonie’(Francophonie Summit) is also bringing stories. A francophonie village is actually being built in the nearest suburbs but construction works are delayed and managers are thinking of hosting the event under tents! (local newspaper Midi Madagasiraka)

 

 

 

A new life starting

 

 

 

I finally will live half the week downtown. I will share a flat with a French couple. We are a bit sad, François and I, but we will see how things will go. I might have to get a taxi-be but I’m thinking of walking, if pollution is not too heavy. But the good news is that I will be able to work more hours per day and then, to come back earlier at Itaosy.

 

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