Last couple of days in Madagascar - Ambohimanga and goodbye to Tana

After a couple of days relaxing at Nosy Be, I flew back to Tana. The last two days in Madagascar were spent in a visit to Ambohimanga and strolling and shopping for souvenirs.

Ambohimanga is one of the sacred hills on the Antananarive plateau, the highest and most sacred of them all, the ancient capital of the Merina kingdom, under which the island was unified in the 18th century. These days, it’s a small village on top of the only hill that still keeps its ancient forest in the plateau (it was sacred, so the trees escaped the deforestation that consumed the neighboring country to produce coal), with the ancient fortified palace precincts, a UNESCO world heritage site. There were several doors in the ancient wall, one can see one of them today, and the heavy circular stone that used to close it, moved by 40 slaves. Before entering the palace precinct, one sees the place of sacrifices to the ancestors’ spirits, a flat stone by a huge ficus tree. The main Malagasy religion is still animism, and there are still frequent sacrifices there: chicken, ducks, zebus in special occasions, and several zebu skulls hang on the tree.

I hired a licensed guide, a short woman named Emma, that took me for the tour of the site, telling the stories of the place in her accented French – never have I heard so many times the word “sacré”. In Ambohimanga, literally everything is sacré. Theprecinct is an impressively beautiful place, with an incredible view over the plateau.

First, there are the ancient ficus trees (“l’arbre sacré!”), one of them surrounded by 12 stones, representing the king and his 12 wives (“douze, le numéro sacré!”), and the enclosure where the zebus are kept and fed before being sacrificed. Then, the king’s palace (king Andriambelomasina, and yes, she could say this word without hesitation), a modest wooden building (“c’était du luxe quand même!”), with pillars of huge palisanders (“le bois pour les rois – sacré!”); one cannot take pictures of the interior (“c’est sacré!”), where the king’s bed is by the eastern wall (“où le soleil se lève, c’est le côté sacré!”), and the king used to be perched on the ceiling while giving audience, so he wouldn’t be seen to be protected from potential attacks and would answer petitions by throwing pebbles from above, while the favorite wife entertained the guests. One should leave the palace walking backwards so one wouldn’t turn his back on the king – “mais vous pouvez sortir comme vous voulez”.

Next to the king’s palace, there’s the queen’s summer palace, a 19th century wooden building, a kind of European villa, built for the infamous queen Ranavalonna I, whose main residence was the “palais de la reine” in Tana. Small but comfortable, it’s a curious house, with the dining-room with a runaway trapdoor and cupboards with mirrors so she could watch if anyone would try to poison her, and her portraits in Victorian attire, on a stool to look taller (“elle avait seulemant 1.40m”) and heavily powdered (“elle voulait être blanche… comme Michael Jackson!”). She had lots of lovers (“meme des esclaves!”) and her son was deposed because suspected of not being of royal blood (“il est né 14 mois après la mort du roi”).

Up a few steps from the palaces, there are the royal tomb, and then the sacred pools, where the king had his annual sacred bath, with rain water carried by 40 virgins. There was a special staircase for the king, through a door crowned by a sculpted ficus leaf – “la feuille sacrée.

I loved Ambohimanga (the name means ”beautiful hill”), and after leaving Emma – who, in her dignified poise, was probably not much different from Ranavalonna – wondered in the woods watching the breathtaking view. Sacred places, here or anywhere else, are not chosen randomly; there’s always something impressive about them.

On my last day, I wondered through the city, feeling somewhat familiar with it, stopping for coffee at the Café de la Gare, having a drink with a new acquaintance, and buying some souvenirs. Chocolates, t-shirts, and beautiful wooden handicraft at the Marché de la Digue – a few sculptures and masks and a chess set.

So, all in all, it was quite a trip. Nature, culture, food and rest, and a lot of time by myself, something I hadn’t noticed how much I missed until enjoying it.