Madagascar: A journey into space

Rice paddies on the outskirts of the capital, Antananarivo

Christopher Baker

Rice paddies on the outskirts of Antananarivo

The sacred forest is a reminder of the strange and unique landscape that once dominated this harsh, drought-prone region. The enormous octopus trees found only in this part of the world (an astonishing 75 per cent of Madagascar's exotic flora and fauna is endemic) stand proud, their ramrod-straight, thorn-coated branches set against solid-blue skies; and the chubby arms of bulbous baobabs wave high above the palms and dense thicket on the forest floor. There are tombs everywhere: vast, whitewashed, concrete structures decorated with images (an aeroplane, a crocodile); imposing, dry-stone monoliths topped with enormous zebu horns; and simple mounds of rocks and stones heaped protectively on top of coffins. The family tomb is the one constant in every Malagasy's life, and it would be inconceivable to be buried anywhere else. Home is where loved ones lie buried; now elevated to ancestors in the afterlife, they are a direct link to the gods.