But then, she does every so often anyway. Madagascar Crisis Escalates, the Financial Times says. It reports both the president and the opposition leader claim to run the country. The opposition leader is the mayor of the capital, Antananarivo ("Tana"), and it appears his own constituents largely ignored his call for a debilitating strike as markets bustled on Monday. If nobody'll listen to him, well then, by golly, he'll sue.
We dropped in on the big weekly market in Tana back in 1995:
Zoma means Friday and it’s also the name for the positively teeming Friday market in Madagascar’s capital city, Antananarivo.
From the hill above Independence Avenue, a sea of white umbrellas washed out ahead in every direction, swallowing up the main square, flowing into busy little eddies beside stairways, up the hills as far as the eyes could see – up one hill, down the next.
Buy whatever you will. Locks and hinges. Grenadine drinks. Bright plastic jugs. Chicago Bulls caps. Greasy food rolls. Major motor parts. Michael Jackson T-shirts. A vast selection of wicker. Bon Bon Anglais Limonad. We stopped and bought a "Madagascar" ink-pad stamp that actually printed "Madagascap."
It's strange to prepare for theft, but that’s what the books say to do. You fix your bag to minimize what the thieves will get if they slash it open. The Bradt Guide to Madagascar: "The Zoma is notorious for thieves. It is safest to bring only a small amount of money in a money belt or neck pouch. Enticingly bulging pockets will be slashed."
Hubbub, amplified music and lots and lots of people. The symbols of power: the Central Bank, High Court, Ministry du Promotion de l'Industry. A band was set up to play on a flatbed but never did. All the way down L'Avenue de l'Indépendance to the distant train station - buzz and seethe and umbrellas, mostly white ones, way, way on down the street. This was big, sprawling, daunting and dramatic.
Must've been three or four hundred meters down one side. Too tight to turn, too close to walk two abreast. Baby clothes. The tiniest shoes you've ever seen. Embroidery. Crocheting - napkins and table covers embroidered with lemurs and scenes from traditional life.
The Malagasy are a little smaller than me in general and I was forever bumping my head on the edges of their big white umbrellas, knocking my sunglasses off my head.
Down by the train station, the varnished wooden trunk section. Turning back, furniture. Circuit boards. Tiny piles of tacks. Stacks of feed bags.
The classic trap: there is a Malagasy 5000 Franc note. Then there is another that says 5000 also in numbers, but instead of reading merely "arivo ariary," it reads "dimy arivo ariary," which I believe means five times five thousand and in any event definitely means 25000 FMG, even though in numbers it says 5000.
The feed bag guy wanted 1100 (27.5 cents) for a multicolored “Madagascar” bag. Realizing it just as the bill left my hand, I gave him not a proper 5000 but one of the 5000's that are really 25000. After a lot of consultation with a lot of people, I got the correct 23900.
By midday we had our backs to the wall (like in any good western) at the Hotel Colbert's terrace bar, already having seen a week’s worth in one morning. Hotel Colbert had a dubious five star rating, apparently not from any organization in particular.
*****
- From the eventual book, Common Sense and Whiskey.
Photo of the Zoma Market, Antananarivo, from EarthPhotos.com. See more photos in the Madagascar Gallery at EarthPhotos.com.
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