Living the Dream; A Madagascar Tale

Chapter: 5 months

**The Road Trip**

The 10 hour road trip from Antananarivo to Antsohihy is underway. Travelling along the RN6 and RN4 with half the original party. Surprisingly, the vet teams bags got left in Paris, en route to this very organised country. So they have stayed in Tana for an extra day (hopefully).

An hour out of Tana and the terrain changed significantly. It became flat, and brown. Or more frequently black, where there have been many tavy. There is a prominent burning smell throughout the journey. It's depressing how common this unsustainable, slash and burn method to clear the land, in preparation for farming, is still being used. In the distance, because we can see quite far, there were many pillows of smoke raising from the ground, as the dry vegetation smouldered away.

We drove through the hottest town in the country called Maevatanana, as well as the aptly named Morarano (Slow Water) and our first stop, before the Ankarafe field site in the Sahamalaza Peninsula, was Antsohihy, which ranks as the 2nd hottest place and while we sat melting in the 4x4, it felt quite believable.
The differences between the villages here and Kianjavato are broad. The zebu are used as beasts of burden here, 5 minutes did not pass before we swerved around another pair of large horned hoofstock, pulling a cart filled with a variety of produce, from vegetation, water containers, people or sacks of unidentified items, the locals aren't hanging about as much either, the villages seem deserted as we drive through, though on closer inspection, people were sheltering in the shade of trees or their mud/clay 'chalets,' another testament to the heat.
The chalets looked similar in style and size, though unlike the wooden structures and raffia frond roofs of the homes in the East, these are built with brick and clay, with grassed roofing.
It is also much more obvious that we are in the dry season here, as we drove across bridges with riverbeds which consisted of minimal water, "you can't see the [huge, bulbous] rocks in the wet season" said Bella.
That would take an awful lot of water to cover.

On entering Port Berge, it appeared zebu have been replaced by tractors, well I saw one tractor and no zebu, so it's a natural assumption.
In all of my time in Madagascar, I have only seen goats twice, in Mananjary. I assume they are the same group.
The further North we go, the more goats I have seen. African goats, wandering around the roads. They are commonly escorted by a single Malagasy, in the same way the zebu were in my previous fokotany. I have also seen sheep and 2 horses! Following our quaint meeting with the British ambassador a few days earlier, I now know these are 2 of only 400 horses in Madagascar.

After a 2 night stay in the sauna-like town of Antsohihy and the non bartered purchase of tonnes of rice, beans, peanuts, vegetables, flour, dried shrimp and dried fish (who knew, these wouldn't taste too bad) we caught up with our vet team, Michelle - the vet from Bristol Zoo and Zoe - a zoo keeper from their sister zoo, Wild Place, as well as an Italian tourist, Ramondo, who was joining us for the ride, but no one knew anymore of his plans.
(It turns out, he's a billionaire, planning to invest in developing the nearby tourist camp)
We continued on the journey North West, for a further 6hrs stopping briefly at Maromandia, for park entrance tickets and food.
My first rice meal since leaving KAFS, 8 days ago.
The tourist tickets were sorted for Zoe, the tourist and I, costing 10,000A per day, (£2) with us planning to be in the forest for 21 days. I'm not sure who did the math, but my ticket cost 150,000A, (£30) maybe it's buy 15 get 6 free??

As we turned into the Sahamalaza Peninsula, the smooth tarmac road disappeared, making way for an uneven, steep, red-dust filled, dirt track. For about 3 hrs we bumped our way towards camp. It was no worse then the average brousse ride, Bella laughed at my nonchalance, eating a Frego wafer biscuit, as her and Judith held on tight. "It's all about relaxing into the bumps" I replied.
Finally, much to the drivers relief, we arrived at the field site. With enough light to set up camp.
The entire journey cost us each 346,000A (£70) which covered the fuel and hire of 2 vehicles for 5 days.
This basic camp, is how I imagined KAFS would be, as it is situated in the middle of the forest. There are no villages closer than a 2 hr walk away and definitely no Joseph's cake shop at the bottom of the road. It does have a drop toilet, which is made of concrete (oddly with two bricks on either side of the hole, which makes it more of a challenge to aim) and has, so far hosted a number of unwelcome guests such as an extra large nightmare 'tick' spider, my old friends- the cockroach and two large skinks. The skinks were fine, once I realised what they were, it's always intimidating going into the darkened shack and disturbing something big, quick, scrabbly and unknown.
The tent site has 8 shelters, with corrugated tin roofing. My small borrowed tent just about fits on the bendy wooden floor boards and my belongings have formed a snug nest inside. Bellas' larger tent appears to hang off the sides of her shack, whereas Judith and Max's sites both have a small incline.
Max is a Malagasy student from 'Tana University. Bella, Juju and I visited the University a few days prior to departure, asking if there were any students available to assist with data collection and Malagasy/English translation, they would be needed for 6 months ... And ready to leave in 2 days. The staff at the Uni, discussed our request, disappeared and returned with Max, who also happened to have just finished working on fossa field work, with none other than Hot Sam! (He's another story...) "Are you sure it's not too short notice for you to join us?" We enquired, "it's ok" he replied.

The 5 of us spent the next day exploring the tent site and surrounding area, there are 2 store rooms, 1 used for tat and another for food, it's technically not rat proof, though I have seen no signs of rats yet, which is good as I have food in my tent. - If it were KAFS, the food would be gone already and my tent would have holes in it.
The dining area is under a shelter, with 2 wooden benches/tables, next to the kitchen. The kitchen, which consists of a wooden fire pit, placed at chest height is maintained by 2 Malagasy women, (usually just one, but we were a big group) an older lady Maleene and a younger one Tsiafindra. They smile a lot, but don't really speak.
There is no script here, like there was in Kianjavato. The only phrase the guides have used in response to anything, is tsy misy fisorana (you're welcome).
I miss the script:
"salama, akory abe"
"tsara be, enina no vao vao"
"tsi misy vao vao"

The 3 guides, Jackie, Patrice and Avitsar share a 'chalet' which has proper wooden beds, mosquito nets and the occasional sounds of Malagasy music. Barinjaka has just been playing, it makes me want to (attempt) the squat/kick dance.
In Antsohihy, Bella purchased 1.3 chickens "for eggs, because the cook won't cook them, as it's fady for her". For 3 days they were penned inside a mosquito net turned coop during the day, and a basket at night. On the 4th day, we let them loose "be free my pretties, be free", we're hoping fossa don't turn them into a 14,000A (£3) snack. - In the end, the chickens were so good at hiding, we never found their eggs.

As well as these introduced animals and the toilet occupants, there is an abundance of wildlife, from little black flies, which like to tickle as they land to feast on sweat. They seem harmless, but are irritating, I have at least ten of the mm long fiends currently flying around me, they are too quick to swat, lizards, which are a lot more entertaining. A glancing sweep across the field site and I can see 3 iguanids (spiny tailed, black collared, up to almost a foot long). 1 small (~8cm) youngster appears to enjoy relaxing outside my tent, he ranges from being overly alert, never taking his eyes of me, to flattened and relaxed. Until I move, then he hides.
There was also a dead chameleon amongst the trees, it looked like his tail got caught and he died mid move to a lower branch. The large ants made short work of him and any signs of his presence were gone within a couple of days.
Then there is the creme de la creme; the blue eyed black lemurs.
Every morning, they visit camp, always aware of us, glaring and grunting, daring us to make a move to catch them. If only they were Lepilemur, our job would be so much easier. Two adult females have newborn youngsters, which they aren't afraid to show us, briefly. They move around the outskirts of the camp, picking up papaya and chasing each other for a sample of the unripened fruit.
The only blue eyed black lemur I have seen in captivity (I forget which collection) was a greasy coated, emaciated male. In comparison, the fur of these wild individuals appears velvet thick and glossy, similar to 'rex rabbit' fur.

In some ways, the hygiene routine is so much better here than at KAFS. I can wash daily and no one complains about water shortage. There is a small stream, sheltered within the forest, close to camp, which is deep enough to submerge and swim. It's a beautiful sun trap of a spot, with a picturesque mini waterfall and half-a-foot long fish, though the risk of the snail-bourne disease Bilharzia, was drummed into me so much at KAFS, I can't get that fear out of my head. But, it is beautiful and so refreshing here, the risk is worth it, I think.
Dressed in our bikinis, Juju, Bella, Zoe and I head down daily for a bathe. It's just what we need after a sweaty trek into the forest. The hand washing facilities could be improved. A bucket of water is collected from the stream and the Malagasy women will pour the water over your hands as you rub them together. To avoid them wasting to much time helping you, you don't spend too long cleaning. Having alcohol gel is a benefit.
As well as our daily swim, the clear water is used to wash our grimy, sweaty clothes and also collected by the cooks for use in our food and drink, it's boiled, so in theory, it should be ok? My 'constitution' hasn't been affected yet, so I think it must be.

The days are long and hot, especially in the sun. The shade provides some relief to the heat and evenings brings a bit of chill, which is enough to get cosy in the sleeping bag. There is no set routine, as yet. Some days we head en masse, into the forest at around 10am, armed with blow gun, darts, nets, gloves, pillow cases and mosquito net; to use as a safety net, in case a Lepilemur falls from a great height. In theory, we should break it's fall with the net, so that no injuries occur ... In theory. The first lemur we caught, fell and missed the net by inches. She landed on the floor, belly first. The heavily pregnant female "Helena" didn't seem to suffer any bad effects, but I guess only time will tell.
Once we have the lemurs back at camp, Michelle processes them, first their weight, then measurements, microchipping, then samples are collected; faecal, blood, hair and if a male, urine (not female urine, as they could be pregnant), then the radio collar is fixed on, fluids and antibiotics are given as a precaution and the little sedated prosimian (apparently, this term is now outdated and the correct reference for this family is .....) is placed in a pillow case until the evening, when we trek back into the forest and release them by their sleeping tree.

Max has been designated dart master and although he had no prior experience, he's very mahay with his aim. I had a few practise shots and wasn't too shabby, though it's one thing darting a circle on a box and totally another to dart a living, breathing animal. I am the back up darter, I'm hoping Max stays healthy.
In this dry, deciduous forest, we scout around for the elusive sportive lemur for a couple of hrs, then if unsuccessful, we'll head back out again after lunch and occasionally in the evening. The guides are very good at spotting these guinea pig sized brown/grey blobs, hiding in tree holes or high up in the leaves. We attempt to be as useful as possible, though sneaking through the forest is an impossible feat as the floor is covered in a variety of shades of brown and beige dried leaves, rotten logs and a million trip hazards, we crunch our way through, getting caught in vines and bamboo, flicking twigs into each other's faces as we walk through the relatively flat terrain, zig zagging our way through the forest made up of a lot of mango trees and I'm pretty sure I've seen a couple of Ramy/Sandramy trees too, weaving between young saplings, that are growing in between the older generation of trees and getting easily distracted by the next cool thing.
We've seen chameleons, a uroplatus (just one and it was a lucky find) Frances sparrow hawk, pygmy kingfisher, coua, cuckoo, Malagasy bee eaters, green pigeons, crested drongo, paradise flycatchers, nightjars, giant ants, a large group of small hairy caterpillars and two really big ones, frogs, giant dwarf lemurs, blue eyed black lemurs and we have had amazing success, with catching and collaring the Lepilemur sahamalazensis.

1st day: Helena (pregnant), Irene (pregnant), Nicolas (after Nico) and Beth
2nd day: Annika
3rd day: Sansa
4th day: Martina (and ~1wk old baby)
5th day: Popeye (an older male, with an infected, ulcerated left eye - removed by the vet)
6th day: Day off
7th day: Recovering from day off
8th day: Lizzie
9th day: Xeno
10th day: 2 failed attempts (9:30-11:30am and 7-9:30pm)
11th day: Peter and Eddie (who was too little to radio collar - 460g)
12th day: Rabbit
13th day: Khaleesi
14th day: Louis the 14th (our last lepi)
15th day: BEACH Party
16th day: Head count of the 14
17th day: Bellas Birthday (and my sisters)
18th day: Goodbye Sahamalaza

Guy, (pronounced Gee) made the blow darting and capture of the first 4 lemurs look easy. "Wow, we're going to have all 12 lemurs in just a few days"
He left and we trundled into the forest 3-4 times a day, finding at least 2 uncollared individuals each time, but they are invariably in impossible positions. High up in the branches, hidden amongst thick foliage or with escape routes, deep inside hollowed trees. We have used questionable wooden ladders, which broke on the 2nd to top rung, extendable nets, bamboo poles, dart after dart and shaken the bejesus out of trees and vines, in an attempt to contain these little living coconuts. "As long as we catch at least 1 lemur a day, we'll be on target" was always the positive mantra.

It was pretty easy to stay positive in the forest, it was generally an easy and safe hike and we'd see something interesting daily, that is until we came across the wasps. The first time we saw them, it were an non event, Juju took a photo of these little green insects as the guides and us called a warning for her not make them mad.
Almost every day since then, someone has been stung. These crafty little crap bags are invisible assassins. They give no sign of their presence, there's no buzz off warning, nothing. Just a sting. And it hurts. And it's invariably followed by a couple of others. Max has been stung the most and he had a swollen reaction on his arm, which we treated with cream and he has become more wary in the forest. Zoe and I have had our fair share, though fortunately it only smarts for a few seconds.
Poor Juju, after she received 3 stings, one on her neck, arm and side, she spent 20minutes feeling itchy, all over. Initially, she didn't make a big deal of it so we proceeded into the forest and caught our 14th and final sportive lemur, before heading back to camp. At this point, Juju rushed ahead "I am so itchy, I just want to pull of my skin" she cried. Her face filled up with red swollen blotches, her eyes, ears and armpits became swollen, red and areas on her back, arms and stomach began to increase in size and colour. She looked awful. Fortunately I had supplies, 1 piritize allergy tablet, an enormous amount of anti itch cream and 30minutes later, her reaction lessened.
Now we all move pretty quick, if someone yells wasp, or screeches after being stung.

2 days off from darting "because we need a rest" and also, it's the annual lemur festival. This 10 year anniversary celebration was being hosted in the closest village to our camp, Antafiabe which would have been a 3 hour walk away, but 11 of us squeezed into the 4x4. A variety of activities were planned, including football, a concert, Malagasy boxing and a dance. There weren't an awful lot of references about lemurs, as far as I could tell, but I'm sure somewhere in the 3hour long speeches, someone must have mentioned them.

We arrived en masse, Guy appeared to be one of the main organisers and dished out t-shirts to some of our party, this proved useful in recognising who we were with. When we drove through the village a week ago, heading to the Ankarafa Field Site, it appeared deserted. Now, there were hundreds of Malagasy people milling about, they had walked for miles to attend the 3 day event.

There were also Durrell representatives (there's a pochard rehabilitation/breeding centre in Antsohihy) and a Peace Corp guy 'Noah'. (He knows people, who know Indri, but doesn't know the stroppy man himself) and our Italian tourist friend.
In total, there were 7 vazaha. Usually- in the East anyway, this would create a chorus of "Sala vazaha" but not here, they just starred, not even attempting to be subtle, they didn't smile or try to talk, the kids, the men and the women just gathered around us, starring.

Some of the staff we met in Antsohihy were also at the event, including Brano, who was very friendly, chatty and clearly happy to see us and another Malagasy guy, who was a part of our extended group, he approached me and said "you don't remember me, do you?" I looked at him and thought maybe he had been at the office too, but I couldn't be sure, I shook my head and said sorry, I didn't.

"We shared a ride from KAFS to Tana, 2 weeks ago. For 10 hours, with only 5 other people in the car"

"Oh! .... Oops"

I vaguely remember a guy sat in the back with Indri, me and Alina, but he never spoke a word of English for the whole journey - I assumed he couldn't.
But he was mahay miteny Anglais! "You never spoke !!" I accused, he replied that I had been asleep for the whole journey ... That's not totally true, I had not been well (very hungover) so I'd been ill too. Also, my attention was fixed on the stroppy, but cute Indri.
We ended up chatting lots for most of the night, so I think I'm forgiven for my ignorance.

One of the guides Jackie, invited us to watch him play football. We joined a hundred Malagasy under the shade of a jack fruit tree and watched the most hilariously rubbish game of football -EVER! 22 guys split between red and purple shirts and a ref, ran around the tavy prepared, dusty, red soil football pitch. Kicking, head-butting and passing the ball between each other in the sweltering heat. There were no coordination in the play, men kicked the ball, ran after it, over shot it, then had to run back. They'd kick it over the fence, where the poor ball boy would have to clamber over and search amongst the plantation of oil trees so it could be kicked back into play. It was a comedy sketch, I have never experienced a crowd of people laugh so much during a football match, it would have been made perfect with some 'Benny Hill' music.

"We should watch the Malagasy boxing" someone suggested, I had hoped to avoid this Northern Malagasy tradition called Maroangy, the thought of watching men beat each other up, is not my idea of fun, little did I know how wrong I could be.
If only all boxing/fighting events were structured like the Malagasy boxing, I'm positive the world would be a better place.
2 potentially serious competitive sports, are pure amusement in Madagascar. I think I can't love this country any more than I do, then it provides this amazing treat for the eyes.
The 'arena' for the fights were the grounds for the concert, there were no barriers between the spectators and the participants, that made me nervous, how do we stay out of the way? I shortly discovered their very effective way to control the crowd.
It seemed to take an age to get started, the red dust blew around in the breeze, as people payed their 2,000A entrance fee and sheltered under whatever shade they could. Random pairs of men started walking in a circle, around the centre of the area. Strutting around like turkey's, with their knuckles clenched.
Noa, the peace corp explained that this was how it got started.
"The men walk around, waiting for a suitable contender, if they pass each other and touch knuckles, they have agreed to fight."
Most of the time, these apparent tough guys avoided eye contact with each other, they just walked in a circle, left the area and joined the crowd, then went back into the circle again. They were joined by a very happy, dancey drunk guy, who we were sure would be the first to be punched, but he was mostly ignored.
Young boys were the ones who pulled the most punches. After around 30minutes of strutting, some of the men signalled they meant business, by taking off their shirts.
They'd squat down on the floor and their pal would press or thump their back, then touch their heal "why did they touch the heal?" I asked Noa
"it's Madagascar, why do they do anything??!"

A contender would imitate the same moves, with both sets of friends next to them, they would then perform a shuffle, to try and get close enough to swing a punch and to get far enough away that any swung punch would miss. It looked like a bizarre slow dance and minimal contact was made. Then, and this was by far the best bit, one of the fighters would signal to their friend that they didn't want to fight anymore and the friend would either scoop them up into their arms or the retreater would clamber onto their back.
Both fighters, big grown men, would be removed from the confrontation in this way.

I do not know if anyone 'won' a fight, there appears to be no rules other than hit and run. There were no blood shed, no knock outs, I highly doubt any bruises were even made. There was, however a lot of laughter.
The crowd received the most physical harm during the event as the crowd control method became apparent. The security/police would use a cane to whack anyone who was stood in front of the invisible line they had created, this ensured fighters and spectators didn't become too mingled.

The fighting went on for a few hours, with it reaching a peak of 'fights' at the same time as the concert started. It was difficult to know where to look, the artist on the stage wasn't one I was familiar with, but watching the inappropriate sexual moves of the dancers was like car crash viewing, the women twerked their behinds into the male dancers faces or crotches, the clearly gay dancer strummed on the crotch of his female dance partner, while Zoe and I gasped aloud, in a typically British way.

The band played for a total of 16hrs. Finishing off at around 6am. I'm unsure what time I headed back to my tent, I was very mamo. Judith and I stayed out drinking and dancing with Noa, Unknown Name; the quiet car guy and a number of others in our group, Bella, Max and Zoe left just after midnight. Juju experienced her first taste of Toaka Gasy and enjoyed it. She clearly is foka, foka (a little crazy). We visited the little food stalls and sampled a variety of snacks, including kasava root - it's the cheapest option for a root vegetable, the poorest Malagasy eat it often, but it's toxic if to much is eaten, I like the root a lot, but the leaves taste bitter and they look like chewed up cow food. - Extra large mouf gasy, this rice bread tasted exactly the same as the mini version in Kianjavato, dry! And a fried slab of potato, which was so good.
The concert was in full swing, the red ground had been soaked with buckets of water to reduce the clouds of dust filling the air, as always the Malagasy people were shaking their hips, their legs and their butts in equal measures, the traditional dance the 'Afindrafinfrao' started playing. My first introduction to this single file, hand holding, alternatively toe flicking out, Greek sounding song was with Fredo, this time I was coerced into it by Brino and I was much more prepared for the 6minutes of tortuous baby steps in a Congo line. "Mahay be" Brhino exclaimed, about my dancing abilities. It's great, that he thinks walking very slowly in a line is a sign of a good dancer.
I looked over at the 50+people involved in the dance and could make out Zoe and Bella toward the back, "wow, what a long song" they said afterwards.

Not everyone appeared to be having a fun night, a small commotion and crowd of people formed towards the stage, curious, we watched as the crowd parted, showing a guy on the floor "he's not well" someone said, perhaps he drank to much? Fainted? A group of security were around him, then he was pulled to his feet screaming and yelling, his legs had been tied up, like a chicken, as had his arms. Someone pointed underneath the stage as if that was where he had come from ... Or where he had been stored?! I looked in horror as the screaming, yelling man was escorted, still tied, away from the party "what the hell is that about???" I asked, "he's not well" was the simple reply.

3 bottles of rhum later and Juju went back to the tent, I followed shortly after and she was already asleep, it took a little time to work out, which tent I was in, as she mumbled "Bella is in here" umm, no she isn't, move over.

I slept like a log and woke up suddenly at 5:30am, groaning "why have they put the music back on??? It's so loud!!" Zoe laughed, "the music never stopped." We all got up, packed our already heated tents and joined the makafka be (very hungover) group for breakfast. Guy stood up and began another set of speeches, *cue internal groaning*. The conclusion to the speech was met with applause and a crate of THB (beers) and (more!) rhum appeared!!
It was only 8am.
Cue more groaning, from the vazaha and cheering from the Malagasy.

On the way back to camp, being squashed in with 11 people, driving along the uneven, gorge filled, dusty dirt track, we laughed and gossiped about the nights events, unintentionally mimicking dance moves as we were shaken and wobbled inside the vehicle. Suddenly the driver made a sharp turn, onto the flat grassland, he'd missed his turning and decided to take a detour back onto the right road, he regretted the decision immediately.
He pulled onto the right dirt track, stopped, got out of the 4x4 and groaned at the back right wheel. We all clambered out to have a look at the flat tyre.
Even though it was still early morning, the heat from the cloudless sky was overbearing, Bella and Zoe wrapped themselves in lambas, while Michelle and I headed for the shade.
30minutes later we were back on the road and heading to camp for a much needed bathe, lunch and sleep.

It was Max's 27th birthday, we were all still rerika be (very, very tired), from the festival, but we popped open the 2,000A Dzama amber rhum and a couple of cans of Three Horse Beer and sang him happy birthday, how does it feel to be a year older? "I'm ok" came his usual response.
This self taught guitarist played us a variety of Western music, while we sang poorly along. Bella and Juju sang the German version of 'Bare Necessities' and Lion King 'Can you feel the Love Tonight', while I intermittently joined in with the English version. We laughed and joked about our tone range (or lack of) and agreed our band name should be 'Rice Against the Machine.'

Talking of rice, the food here has been pretty good. The protein has been made up of tiny shrimps and peanut butter (I must learn how that's made!) we've had decent portions of vegetable, beans and grated carrot, unripened mango (don't knock it, till you've tried it) and uncooked cabbage (knock it, don't try it) and of course rice. Sweet white rice in the morning and rice supplemented with sakay, sweet chilli sauce, garlic powder and mixed dried herbs at lunch and dinner. It's been a taste sensation, though I am dying for a fried egg.
I had a hallucination when the tin of shiny, cooked shrimps were brought out the other day, it looked like, and I thought for a milli second, it was a cornflake cake.
A sweet, syrupy, jam covered pastry based, crunchy, tasty, cornflake cake.

*Drool*

We were one week into our stay and had so far caught the minimum requirement for Bellas study (8). We were doing well and were optimistic about catching the remaining 6.
We spotted Xeno, the 9th to be processed and our 3rd male. He was hiding in a tree hollow about 7m high, he looked out from the hole down at us as we patiently waited for him to forget we were there and could safely dart him.
He had other ideas.
Max sent off 2 darts, one which hit this Houdini of an animal through the tiniest hole in the wood. What a champion.
We waited 5minutes for the drugs to take effect. We gently shook the tree and the little beast moved further into his hole, unaffected by the anaesthetising drug at all.
"I'll climb up there" declared Juju. I think I've already clarified how crazy this Austrian is.
She shimmied up the tree, which fortunately had a close neighbouring tree and lianas, which she could utilise and rest on. She reached the hole, poked her fingers inside and he didn't react. "Yes! He's asleep .... OUCH! He bit me" she yelled and showed us her bleeding finger.
"Don't worry" said Bella, "I don't 'think' they can get rabies"
Hand injecting the little blighter was our next option, Michelle measured out 0.1ml of Zolatil (?) which we placed inside the extendable net for Juju to reach, she then blindly followed directions to the hole and attempted to inject. 5 times.
With each attempt, we held our breath, waited for 5 minutes and tested his reaction.
Each time this super strong prosimian demonstrated he was clearly wide awake. On the final attempt, he ran out of his hole, down the tree towards Zoe and her net, she thrust it over him "I've got him," as he slipped out from under it and headed back up the tree.
He was clearly a little affected with the drug and must have been having a weird trip, as he stared down at the 4 vazaha and 1 Malagasy (our guides had not returned from the festival yet) who were trying to contain him. He jumped back towards his hollowed tree, realised Juju was still there, made a bolt back down towards our waiting gloves, nets and pillow cases.
I grabbed him, with my non gloved hand, quickly amended the mistake and held him firmly. "It's a girl!" I wrongly commented, Michelle agreed as she gave him an injection and I quietly said "go to sleep!"
As he was processed, we quickly realised 'Xena the Warrior Princess', was in fact 'Xeno the Testicles had not yet Descended', she was an adolescent boy.

A few hours after sunset and with the eventual arrival of our AWOL guides, we returned the now radio collared, feisty critter to his sleeping tree and walked back through the dark forest, shining our torches on the path ahead, navigating the vines, lianas and bamboo and shining the lights into the trees, spotlighting for any signs of life. We heard a rustle in the undergrowth, it sounded big and we pointed our lights in the direction of the noise, maybe fossa, we thought excitedly. "Maybe bush pig?" Bella interjected, as the noise suddenly made a dash towards us. We shrieked, yelled and cried out, running for cover behind the guides and the blow dart, there were no darts in it, but it was the closest thing to protection against these masiaka (mean/spicy) beasts and we awaited our imminent death.
Whatever it was, retreated or stood still, hidden and unknown, watching as we quickly left the forest.

**4:55pm. Tuesday 29th September 2015**
Looking at the calendar, I realise I leave this amazing country in exactly 2 weeks. In 14 days, my 6 month visa expires, my bags, no longer filled with field survival equipment, will be crammed full with souvenirs, mementos and gifts, it will be loaded onto my flight, which will (maybe) leave at 16:55 on Tuesday 13th October 2015.
Exactly 2 weeks, to the minute.
6 months ago, I boarded the Kenyan Airways flight, with a vast unknown ahead of me, so much potential, so much promise and so much time.
6 months, in Madagascar seemed like an eternity.
6 months, in Madagascar has flown by, in the blink of an eye.
It's almost over.
It's almost just a memory.

In 15 days, I'll be home.

I'm sitting on a large rock, washing my filthy, dusty clothes in the tranquil stream, listening to the water glide over the small waterfall, which I have become accustomed to sitting underneath, with my head arched backwards, allowing the water to flow over my hair. I look around, into the forest and imagine what animals could be looking back at me, maybe the fossa? Daring itself to quench it's thirst, or the aye aye, tapping away quietly on a bamboo stalk, these elusive mammals, skulking in the shadows, unseen by me, but present.
This, I have decided is my favourite place. This quiet little stream, with crystal clear water, surrounded by green leafed trees, a raffia palm and dried leaf litter, with a multitude of unseen wildlife.
Closing my eyes, I listen to the rush of water, flowing around the smooth rocks past me, heading down stream towards the sea, I listen to the different birdsongs, I can pick out the squealing call of the sunbird, but the others are a mystery. I can hear, somewhere in the distance, the blue eyed black lemurs grunting away, keeping in contact with each other as they search the forest for food.
I love this place.

I love this place, unless I'm being kept awake from midnight to 4am because of some unknown bird, which is doing a very good impression of a car alarm. Non stop. At this point I am all for deforestation.
I should have been beyond tired as we'd spent the day at the beach in Marovato (the place of many rocks), which is the home of Maleene, our cook. We walked for 2hours on the dusty red road, our feet bright red by the time we arrived, we had to wade through a water logged area, which had suspicious looking floaters, "try not to think about them" I cried internally, though I was briefly distracted by the appearance of mudskippers, skipping along the surface of the water, coming to rest on the sandy bank or tree roots; wading through dirty water, seeing mudskippers - worth it.
We then spent a few more hours walking along the coral, crystal and shell covered sand, picking up various treasures as mementos and paddled in the warm Mozambique sea. "It's not a very nice beach" we were told before departing, which bit isn't the nice part wondered Juju and I.
It's a hell of a lot nicer than Mananjary and I loved that beach.

Maleene and her daughter had prepared our lunch, coconut beans, rice (of course) and fish. The best part of the meal was the lemon sakay. It was natsiro be! (very delicious). We were surrounded by the usual starring children who happily stood around in groups, whilst we clicked away on our cameras.
After a while, we all felt sun beat, full and ready for the cosy comforts of our tents, so we packed up our bags with bananas and fresh coconuts and headed back to camp for a well deserved swim in our fresh clean stream.

**Goodbye**
"Juju, Juju" Jackie, the always smiling field guide, excitedly called as we all sat around the table celebrating Bellas birthday and our departure the next day, with stream cooled THB, Amber rhum and a bit of toaka gasy.
"Juju, snake" he eventually said, just as the serpent slithered across my foot! "What the f%#" I screeched out as my brain processed these two pieces of information. Seriously, what is wrong with the snakes in a Madagascar? Do they not understand personal space??!
The snake was caught, handled and admired, before returning to the floor to find another vazaha to harrass and we continued with our mini party.
Whilst at KAFS, I copied some of my favourite Malagasy music and cheesy videos and we played these on Bellas laptop, everybody needs a bit of Gweta in their life and it makes me feel happy to know I have introduced it to a few more vazaha.
The dreaded day arrived for Michelle, Zoe and I to leave, the countdown has begun.
7days left.
Our driver Haja, fetched us at 8am and we set off for 3hrs of bumping and grinding along the dirt track, arriving in Antsohihy around 1:30pm, just in time for lunch, where we celebrated a job well done with two large bottles of cold coke and pizza - with egg! Oh how we have been craving eggs, as our chickens failed to produce any and failed to survive. The cockerel, after coming down with an illness, which after some antibiotics he recovered from, ended up being a fossa snack, the females succumbed to the illness, even the fossa turned his nose up at the sickly miaseka.
Whilst in Antsohihy, we planned to visit the Durrell run pochard breeding facility, which we had been told was near our Belle Vue hotel, we asked directions at the desk, but they didn't know. So in the blazing heat, we packed our Eau Vive water, lathered on the sun cream, insect repellant and trundled along the sun baked road, how hard could it be? An hour later, our optimism had sweated out of every pore. We stopped by an environment office and ask directions "follow this road until you come to Belle Vie Hotel, it's behind there" in true Fredo fashion we emphasised the HA in "What?!"
Sure enough, behind our hotel, hid the facility which holds 78 of these almost extinct in the wild ducks. The Malagasy guy kindly showed us around and spoke to us in broken English and French, in 2006 there were 25 Malagasy Pochards in the wild, they haven't released any yet as there aren't any protected areas for them to go, maybe in 2017, he said. The current wild count of these white eyed (males only) brown birds is still 25. At least it's stable...

Although their knowledge of the surrounding area is poor, our 120,000A (40,000A each) per night hotel, was a little piece of paradise, with it's enormous family room, air con, hot shower, flushing toilet and wifi, which all worked - most of the time. Nothing could spoil the excitement of being back in civilisation, especially as there was a swimming pool, which allowed us to reminisce about our stream, back in Ankarafa.

We had a surprise visit by Brano, the friendly, chatty Malagasy guy who works in the office in Antsohihy, he came strolling over with a huge grin on his face, clearly happy to see us again. "Manafo!" I exclaimed, also happy to see him before leaving the North of Madagascar for good.
We all said final goodbyes, jumped into our waiting ride and begun the 10hr car ride back to Tana.