Madam, There's a Lemur on Your Femur.

Where to begin?

The AIDS and TB clinic in Tana was exactly what one would expect in such a poor country. It was set back, off the street, tucked away in a back alley, so as to hide the faces of those who come in to get tested or receive treatment. The understanding of HIV is so primitive, primarily because, up until now, the disease has not decimated the population the way it has in sub-Saharan Africa. Why? For starters, because it is an isolated island, and hasn’t been exposed (yet) to the factors that cause for the rapid spread. First, there are few roads, providing access across the country. Few roads have discouraged easy development. This means fewer truck drivers, which has been one of the major players of the spread of the disease in Africa – drivers traveling across the continent, having relations along the way, leaving a trail which can literally be tracked. So many more factors, but unfortunately, I don’t have much time here, so I’ll just say that Madagascar is standing at the precipice, about the explode, joining the pandemic. All the signs point in this direction, unless education, prevention and intervention are implemented now. This is a major part of the clinic’s mission.

After Tana, Luc, Jane and I piled into Luc’s truck and drove three hours to the coast, passing through spectacular mountains, rainforests, and started to see the bleak truth of Madagascar’s environmental challenges. More than 80% of the island has been deforested, leaving their rich, indigenous ecosystem out-of-balance. The areas that have been left are simply dripping with natural luxury – trees, birds, animals, waterfalls, rainforest… but they are struggling to exist in the small patches of lushness that have been protected.

Andasibe is one of the best rainforests to view the lemurs – they’re simply everywhere. We took a short canoe ride across a river, to an island serving as a preserve. We took only about 10 steps where we were greeted by huge, black and white lemurs, looking like a cross between a monkey and a panda bear. You can get so close to them, as they peer into your face, wondering “What the heck are YOU doing here?”

I must digress for a moment, to tell the story of Ramus, a Malagasy/Indian/Canadian man we met along the way, who invited us to his house for breakfast in Tana. His father came from India – was brought, is more like it – to work as a servant (slave) as a small child. His youth was spent serving the Malagasy and French aristocracy. Eventually, he had his son, Ramus, who, like all non-pureblood Malagasy, was denied Malagasy citizenship. In effect, he was without citizenship, denied a passport, stuck in a life and an identity in-between. He eventually realized that his life would be limited, so he sought exile in Canada, where he was given citizenship. He now works for CIDA, the Canadian International Development Agency, focusing on child labor in Madagascar.

Over breakfast, Ramus said to me, “You don’t want to get sick in Madagascar. If you do, you might as well forget about it.” The services are slim to nonexistent.

So this was the voice that was ringing in my ear, as I stepped onto the island and greeted the lemurs. And this was the voice that was ringing in my ear, as, not one, not two, but three lemurs jumped onto my head and shoulders, leaning over, peering into my eyes and picking through my hair. They pulled my ponytail out, held my hand and patted my face with the utmost curiosity, as I stood there silently screaming on the inside, begging, pleading, praying that they wouldn’t bite me. Our guide merely laughed, and told me to relax - they’re completely harmless. The acute anxiety eventually dissipated, but I spent the rest of the afternoon, wandering around the island, battling minor panic attacks (though with a smile on my face), as lemurs jumped from the trees onto my head, shimmying up and down my leg.

The next day, Luc dropped us off at the airport, where we caught a flight back to Johannesburg, where we were greeted by Tumelo – a dear friend from graduate school, who has agreed to host us for the rest of our time here in Africa. Tumelo grew up in Soweto, and has quite a story to tell…