ONE CAN'T FORGET

Onnie Taylor

We had traveled a long way to this exotic island in the Indian Ocean. The next morning, after our arrival, Charlie and I were eager to explore our immediate surroundings. We were houseguests of his daughter Nancy and her family in Antananarivo, the capitol of Madagascar. Nancy was Administrative Officer of the Peace Corps in Tana. Her husband Michael was taking a welcome time off from the corporate world in DC to write and manage the two children and the household.

Michael drew us a small map of their area in the outskirts of Tana which would indicate the paths through the rice fields and up into the neighboring village. We walked through their garden to the large heavy gate set in the 10 ft. high dense hedge around the house. Alfred, their friendly gardener, maintenance man and guard smiled and with a "Bon voyage" let us through the gate.

Off we went. It was already warm despite Tana's 4,200 elevation. Their short road, divided two rows of attractive ex-patriot homes, all enclosed with high protective hedges. The owners, all professionals, worked for NPOs such as AID, CARE, RED CROSS and medical facilities. Up the short road we walked and found ourselves between the rice fields. Farmers guiding and their oxen pulling wooden plows in the distance. Soon we were trudging up a dusty red earth hill partially shaded by big trees. Small red mud huts with thatched roofs scattered here and there and smiling Malagasies greeted us as they went about their chores.

Soon we sensed a presence behind us, and a heard a gentle female voice speak to us in a mix of Malagasi and French which we could not understand. We turned to look and saw a woman wrapped in a light earth colored blanket. Her dark hair neatly framed a finely featured, mocha colored face. She smiled shyly and murmured again and we responded with a smile, embarrassed that we could not understand her. We continued our walk and she followed. It was almost noon as we reached the top of the village. The sun got hotter. We decided to turn back. The woman stopped to chat with villagers but to our surprise she rejoined us, walking behind. As we headed down the hill she suddenly came around and faced us and to our amazement opened the blanket to expose her beautiful naked body (except for small panties) and a tiny infant held against her full breasts. We were speechless as she continued to communicate quietly. What was she telling us? Was it money she wanted? She obviously had only her baby and her blanket. We had not carried money with us. Madagascar is the poorest country per capita, in the world. We smiled and indicated we had no money and continued down hill. She wrapped the blanket around her, moved aside and continued to follow us all the way home.

Back at our gate, a smiling Alfred let us in and I immediately asked him to find out if she wanted money from us. He said "Yes, probably" but went out to see. After a moment he returned, looking quite serious and said, "Her husband has left her and took her clothes. She has nothing but her blanket and wants to give her baby to Charlie who can give it a good life," Charlie said, "Oh my God" .We looked at each other in disbelief and turned to walk in silence to the house. She had obviously wanted to show us that she and her baby were healthy and it needed a good home. We were sobered. In a few short hours we had already realized the depths and despair of poverty.