A poultry story

I thought I’d take up the theme of poultry again. It just seems to be an underlying theme in all my field work/travels. My first bus ride in Tanzania was immortalized by the presence of a lady holding a chicken, happily clucking away on her lap. Frankly, I think I could write a whole book on my poultry experiences… and I’m sure I would sell at least one: to my father.

Still, I am amazed by the number of poultry experiences I’ve encountered here in such a short period of time. Let’s list a few:

1. We are blessed on camp with the presence of Fabio – the relentless turkey. He is constantly parading to the genuinely uninterested female turkeys. And to the minibus. I wish I could sit him down and tell him to stop, or at least rethink his appearance, because frankly Fabio, you look a bit dishevelled.

2. In Manakara, while we were at the internet, a man stopped at the door. He was carrying a stick, holding chicken by their feet on either side. He was quite keen to sell them to us.

3. The geese and more importantly, the goslings. I think they are even better than baby bunnies… and anybody who was around when I was in the lab, knows that in itself is a feat.

4. The rooster in a bag. While waiting for our ride back to Kianjavato (scheduled at 8, leaving at 9:30), a lady tried stuffing a rooster in a plastic bag, to no avail. He was resisting greatly, though it really was for his safety. After a good 10 minutes, she resorted in lining a basket with said bag, and putting him in it. We laughed a bit, but then some 20 minutes later, we saw a basket being thrown from the office to one of the loaders. Megan questioned, “is that the chicken?”. Before I could answer, we heard an outraged cluck from the bag, confirming it was indeed the rooster. He then was tied onto the roof of the minibus. So really, the woman was simply trying to provide him with a windbreaker.

5. Calvin. Unexplicably, for a few days, there was a young rooster tied to a post in the kitchen, kind of like a dog on a peg. I assume he’d been naughty and they thought it was some form of adequate punishment.

6. My favorite – last night, while eating lunch, we heard a distressed cluck and turn around to discover a chicken on its back, frantically pedalling the air. It resembled some kind of grotesque beetly unable to turn back around. Luckily, whilst hilarity rippled through most of us, Henriette had the decency of helping to get it back on its feet. But it was funny.

7. Mass poultry transport – how do you get ducks and chickens back to Tana to sell on the market? By putting them in giant baskets tied to the top of taxi brousses of course.

Piece of advice - don't eat mangoes without washing them.

You may get a slight bout of food poisoning. And then have to take a taxi brousse. I've had better days.
So my time is running up in Madagascar. And this last week has been a strange one. Food poisoning rendered me unable to do field work on Tuesday. Tuesday night it rained... and rained... and rained. After kitting up for a wet day on the field and a breakfast of rice and peanut butter (2nd most awesome one after rice and chips), we get to Sangasanga to discover that the bridge is completely flooded and impassible. No field work for us that day either...
Yesterday, I had to be transported up in urgency to Tana because the Ministry of Foreign Affairs didn't want to give me my passport back. The plan was to have me stake out at the Ministry today, and not leaving the building before they gave it back to me. I had wild dreams of being the headline of international papers, along the line of "Vahza ties herself to the ministry's columns in protest". 5 minute fame, here I am!
But those dreams were crushed when 4 hours into my trip yesterday, got a call from the secretary saying that they conceded giving me my passport back. Ever so kind of them. Except that now I have 4 days to kill... in slight solitary confinement. But, I guess I will consider this is my last vacation in a long time (it took me a few hours of whinging on Skype to come to this conclusion).
The office is kindly harboring my poor lost soul for 2 nights. The setup - an actual bed built in 10 minutes in a tiny little office. My bag? on the balcony with giant spiders. And I mean giant.
The bonus? Internet, and the whole house to myself in the evenings. The pitfall? Nobody to talk to per say... Except you wonderful world of internet and no readers.

Anyway, enough ramblings, I've got pictures to put up.

The buck stops here

My travel companions and I will be cutting these adventures short. Some people already know, yet are probably feigning shock, “Hark, doth our ears deceive us?” style. For the others, here are the reasons:

Ducky, whilst bathing in the river, caught bilharzia… as a rubber ducky originating from the UK, it is very distraught about this.

Edgar, pulling his, “I’m Thai, I know about malaria” bullshit has contracted malaria because he forwent his doxy. Silly wooden elephant.

Bruce is doing fine, but because is a bit disappointed on his welcome here. The whole mainland Africa versus Madagascar rivalry.

So that leaves me 3 to 1. Some of you may say that those 3 are inanimate objects… but you know I’m right. I will provide more information on it for those who desire, but no need to bore you here.

Anyhoo, back to Europe I fly, with my 3 sick/whiney caballeros in 10 days. Thus ends chapter one Madagascar - oh, there will definitely be other parts...

The Wonderful Wacky World of Vatovavy

Last time I left you, I was finally going to discover the other site we work on… Vatovavy. After 3 weeks at Sangasanga, it came as a blessing. Little did I know…

The good:

The forest is more interesting – we heard a lot more birds, saw a lot of creepy crawlies – think big spiders, millipedes, and some really funky fluffy bugs. But the forest – it takes a half hour of uphill to get to the site which is, you guessed it, a small mountain. There are ravines, and hills, and gullies, and mahoosive trees with huge roots, sheer rocks to scramble up – Mountain Goat Helene’s dream. Especially if you count the lack of vines on the ground snagging me at my every step.

Top lemur moments:

1. Hanging out on a rock for an hour, at quasi same height as 4 Variecia and a group of fulves. Seriously love the fulves – they make piggie noises, and constantly are swinging their tails. Furthermore, they act like little tough guys, trying to intimidate you by cocking their heads, and running up and down vines while grunting at you. At times it creates a bit of a strange atmosphere, ominous almost, like little gremlins waiting for something bad to happen.
2. Having one of the said fulves bound by at less than a meter off the ground. Very kangaroo like.
3. Watching 3 lemurs chase each other around like little kids, going 3 times round the same circle of treetops… leading to two of them falling to the ground. The cutest was when the first one fell, it didn’t get up, which prompted its buddy to see if it was ok.
4. Absolute favorite – whilst I was GPSing a tree, I hear some scuffling along the ground, and lo and behold, one of the Varicia comes bounding along the ground. Seeing me, he stops, jumps onto a tree trunk, stares at me a few more seconds, then resumes this bounding, though this time along the trunks (though only a foot from the ground), in a more lemur appropriate way.

The bad:
See the above. 10 hours of running around on cliffs whilst it is roasting and having only peanuts and 2 liters of water to survive... Dehydration salts all the way. But really, not that bad.

Three little lemurs, sitting in a tree, G-R-O-O-MI-N-G...

This is a two parter : Lemur rant and taxi brousse.

Let’s start with the taxi brousse adventure. Now, taxi brousses are ‘dalla dalla’ for people familiar with Tanzania, or mini buses for the others… they should hold about 12 people decently, maybe 15 if your comfortable sharing your personal space. But, in my experience, people tend to be creative and fit up to 20 people…

So we flag one down and get in… all’s fine and dandy. Bit crammed but what’s new? Some 15 minutes in, the man next to megan starts retching out of the window. Lovely… but wait, so is somebody behind me… and in front of me… and 3 other people…

Half of the bus is spitting up either into flimsy plastic bags or out the window. While it made us feel slightly uneasy, my main reaction was just fits of laughter. It was so absurd… especially considering that this is a rice eating country – not really the food that makes you queasy, actually one given to people in times of stomach problems… and you'd think they'd know their roads.

What made it all so much better is that the one right next to Megan got out at a town that seemed to be known for its hospital... is there something they weren't telling us?

But fear not; the intrepid duo managed to get here without hurling our rice into a pink plastic bag.

Lemurs. I hate Mangakely. Who is Mangakely you ask?

One of the 3 males we follow at Sangasanga (not going there for two weeks, you have NO idea how happy my knees are) is such a loser. Think either Johnny Bravo/Jock who has no reason to be arrogant. He always tries to hang out with Blue and Yellow, but they just don't care... and wander off.

He then tails them, and yesterday actually watched them eat. Then he alarm calls for no god damn reason, and then, and this is the kicker, runs up to the top of the mountain, to promptly go back down. WHY?
Seriously, schizo little bugger.

So yes, off to Vatovavy next week and the week after... then hopefully an internet break, and then with November come the winds of change...

P.S. I saw an Aye aye... oh yes, I did.

And it was cool. Nay, beyond cool...

"Would you like some more beans? Yes? Here are some chips... to go with your rice."

Ah, the rice. I feel like I could just tell you stories about the rice. But nay, she shall restrain herself.
Instead, I will debut with my birthday story, which was epic and absurd as ever.

I get up and put on my disgustingly manky field clothes which only get washed once a week (oh it's beautiful, it really is) thinking, "ok, lemur time."
After my breakfast of ... rice... and a confused rendition of happy birthday from Christophe thanks to Megan's bullying, we head off to Sangasanga.
Having bought lunch (bread), we are then brought to the side by Shulu and told that, "uhhhhhh... I think... uhhhhhhhh.... you don't work in the forest today...mmmmmmmm"
Basically the head of the plantation where the lemurs like to hang below the forest was irked by the fact that apparently Megan and I didn't sufficiently acknowledge his greatness the other day when he walked by and he was having a (alcohol induced) hissy fit bout it. Ahhh, how I do love grown men tantrums.

Megan, in her brilliance, suggests that we head off to Manakara then instead of today. So we head back to camp, change out of our dirt sweat and blood covered clothes, and leave to Ubonto to get a "taxi brousse". Three hours of conversation with a 17 year old Malgash, we get offered a ride by a military man harbouring the biggest set of speakers in the back of his van ever. And no, that is no euphemism.

Noon - enter the seaside town of Manakara. Well African version of one. But oh, how it is refreshing to be outside of camp, to drink some beers, walk around, EAT PIZZA, and play cards in the dead of the night (way past 9, so cool!) in a room with disappearing cockroaches. This is why I travel.

Quick fact on lemurs: a. They sleep. A lot. I don't really like the whole sitting and waiting for mosquitoes to devour my hands 4 to 6 hours in a row.
b. We might have a preggers one... bring on the babies! She does a lot of sleeping.
c. They like going over to the dark side of the moon, or the cliff side of Sangasanga where no humans can venture... And they especially love doing it after making you scale the mountain when the day feels like a sauna. Strangely, I enjoy that more than a.
d. They squabble upside down... will get a picture up.
e. Purple is a poser.
f. Got a fleeting picture of a L. fulves with its baby on its back, and heard it being flung from tree to tree... doesn't sound like it really likes it frankly. Oh, lemurs throw their babies from tree to tree when they move around cuz the babies don't grip well. At least I'm told.
g. I have got some snazzy pictures...
h. Fulves sounds like a guinea pig. I love it.
i. Goslings kick ass. I love poultry.

Tsy tiaku moka/Tsy taiku moka

Translation : (“si tia-ku mooka”) I don’t like mosquitos/ (“si thai-ku mooka”) I don’t defecate mosquitos.

Tip: don’t get them confused. People look at you funny.

Well, I have been in Madagascar for about a week, and it already feels like a lifetime. Skipping through the plane ride (though the Reunion Island was lovely, and I wouldn’t mind actually spending some time there), I got to Tana (shortened from Antananarivo) feeling completely knackered. First impressions – Tanzania! While I think that Tana has more charm than Dar, spreading over a series of hills, the headquarters of MBP were a posher version of the HQ in Dar.

The drive down to Kianjivato (“Kian-zivatu”) was a snapshot of the country in a number of ways – first, I kept on dozing off so every alert moment was discontinuous with the former, and secondly it brought us from the high plateau of Tana through the meandering hills/mountains, to the lovely area of Ranomafana (“Ranu-mafana”- as you may have gathered o’s sound like u’s here), which is one of the biggest national parks in Mad.

Before rambling on, quick facts:

• Mad has the highest rice to person ratio… and imports 40% of it.
• Since the 2009 coup, there are 4 presidents, and over 120 political parties… not so stable.
• I have seen in a single tree, two species of lemur that both are on the 25 most endangered animal list.
• There is an aye aye project starting here. So not only will I see an aye aye, but I may even get to touch one! AAAAAHHHHHHHHH – very excited Helene.
• Mosquitoes suck balls. Fact.

Camp – I’m within biking distance of a small town, but 2 hours away from internet. It’s a posher version of the one in TZ, still bucket showers at the moment, and a lovely long drop for a toilet, but with grand designs for the future (think deck, bread machine, solar powered showers and a blender). I sleep in a sleeping bag, in a tent, in a box, just like a little Russian doll. As predicted, rice, rice, and a little bit more rice. There is a bit of novelty in that we have some meat, and, get ready for it: rice for breakfast…mmmmmmmmmm...

As for the work, it goes like this: imagine the steepest hills you can, like the one from Swanpool to Gylly for the Cornish folks, fill them with dirt, vines, thorns, spiderwebs, diagonal trees and whatnot. Then try to run through them at top speed while staring up at the treetops to see black and white flying squirrel/cat hybrids (or black and white ruffed lemurs) jump/sail swiftly from one to the other. It’s quite dry at the moment, so "feasible", but I think that the rainy season may more be along the lines of a board of "Snakes and Ladders"… Especially since currently the lemurs seem to be testing the new recruits' stamina by going straight up the hill, picking at a leaf, then deciding that actually the one at the bottom was much nicer. Oh yes, and you have to know where they are at all times seeing as every five minutes for 2 hours you have to note what they are doing. And this up to 4 times a day.

Now don’t get me wrong, like all animals, after a bit of running about, they rest and sunbathe (and I can't wait to get a good picture of them sunbathing); so sometimes you sit for hours at a time in one spot, staring at this little dude sleeping… while munching on bread, peanuts or petit beurre, talking shit, or learning Malagasy. And icing on the cake:unlike all the other behaviour studies I’ve done before, lemurs don’t seem to give a shit about how much noise you make.

The two girls who started this out, (having followed the little buggers for 10 weeks), are heading out today, leaving Megan and I completely to our own devices for the next 6 weeks until Ed comes back with 7 people including a 12 yr old American, a professional photographer, two other crazy people working on Prolemur simus for 9 months,… but until then, it will just be us two and a bunch of Malagasys (Malagasys, not people Simon). Way to land in the deep end. Hopefully, if we don’t die in between, we’ll be coming back to town (though one on the beach, woop!) on the 9^th, a day after my birthday with perhaps some slightly more exhilarating stories than “how to make your life go completely topsy turvy within two weeks”.

P.S. Mail should go through, packages apparently less so… Phone calls are to be pre-arranged using my O2 number (text) to set a date and time (preferably between 5 and 7 UK time), and calling my lovely little Malagash number: +261 344 168 650, and emails can be sent ad lib, but don’t expect a hasty answer. Also, skype without (maybe with) video will also be available at times... talk to me people!

P.P.S. GIANT LAND SNAILS!!!!

Black and White Ruffed Lemurs!

Bruce, Edgar and I are off to go watch Black and White Ruffed Lemurs... looking for some extra information on my little lemur friends, and holy crap, they make the best noises ever!

Enjoy, especially the squeaks and wail... oh the wail.