Text by Jeremy Cuff/www.ja-universe.com
Photography by Jeremy & Amanda Cuff/www.ja-universe.com
East of Tana, an alien monoculture of eucalyptus binds the soil to the hills. Little native wildlife lives there. Further on, the increasingly isolated endemic oasises of Perinet and Mantady are a world apart. They’re just hanging on, but under extreme pressure.
That same pressure is exerting itself on the remainder of Madagascar’s pristine wilderness. Isolated stands of forest are everywhere, surrounded by denuded and degraded land, unable to support the agricultural practices that it was cleared for. Soil and nutrients have been leached away laying hillsides bare. Landslides compound the problem. The loose soil then clogs rivers and the run-off smothers coral reefs. The effects are numerous, wide reaching and often devastating.
The flight from Tana to Ile St. Marie highlighted this enormous impoverishment of the Malagasy environment. Lush rain forest ending abruptly, jolting the beholder with the suddenness of the transition – to a horizon of barren eroded hills.
South of Tana, through the central highlands, the story is the same. You could be forgiven for thinking that Madagascar always looked like this until a detour into Ranomafana tells the real story – that the whole eastern side of the highlands were once forested.
Looking out across the valley at Ranomafana, I watched another slash and burn incursion into the National Park. It’s an all too familiar problem. As one travels around Madagascar, it’s easy to become both sad and frustrated at the apparent wanton destruction of the very land the Malagasy depend upon. Can’t they see that deforestation has resulted in the sterility of their land? Can’t they take a different approach? Can’t they learn to farm in a sustainable way?
We saw fires everywhere, from the unprotected spiny forest near Ifaty in the southwest to the fragmented jungles of the northeast. On the edge of the remarkable Isalo National Park, at the Canyon des Singes, a recent fire had torched the edge of the gallery forest. Later, from atop the Isalo massif, the view across the Horombe plateau revealed the true extent of the burning, with large distant fires marring an otherwise perfect blue sky. I imagined what might have once roamed the plain below, perhaps an elephant bird or a giant ground dwelling lemur.
Madagascar’s environmental blues began with the arrival of man around 2000 years ago. Herculean efforts are being made to preserve what is left, with many projects underway to understand and break the complicated cycle that leads to environmental ruin. Answers are difficult to find, even more formidable to implement. Like our own complicated lives, Malagasy life isn’t as straightforward to unravel as it appears to outsiders and casual observers. Try telling the deprived farmer not to exercise his one and only choice for potential income by encroaching further into the forest.
Similar pressures afflict the marine environment, about which comparatively little is known. Divers will see many species familiar from the Red Sea and more visited areas of the Indian Ocean such as the Maldives, but in addition, many unfamiliar species are often encountered. Species of fish and invertebrates new to science are almost certainly awaiting discovery. These waters are also known to be home to the primitive coelacanth, specimens of which are caught sporadically – particularly around the south and west of the island.
The reserves in Madagascar don’t contain gigantic herds of browsing herbivores stalked by magnificent apex predators but they’re just as interesting as the Serengeti or the Masai Mara over on mainland Africa. Instead, elusive and secretive lemurs, eccentric chameleons, skulking birds, weird insects and exotic plants dominate the ecoscape.
Visits are to this fascinating island are extremely rewarding and there’s still a lot to see… The Indri can still be observed calling across the valleys of Mantadia and Perinet, announcing their presence to rival clans. It is the enduring voice of Madagascar. Friendly and enthusiastic guides will take you on night walks into the forest to spy nocturnal lemurs, giant moths, chameleons and calling frogs. All over the island, elusive Madagascan Nightjars are common and can be seen embarking tirelessly on their erratic sorties, scooping up the nascent life of insects in the short window of dusk. Insect lovers can watch in fascination as incandescent fireflies dance in the stillness of a muggy twilight after a storm. Or take a boat to cavorting Humpback whales, which visit the seas around Ile St. Marie and the Bay of Antongil from July to October.
Ecotourism may not be a perfect solution, but a visit to the national parks of Madagascar can create another small reason for the Malagasy to preserve what is left of their natural heritage. And lots of small reasons add up to one big reason. Let’s hope so.
