It rains on the city and that gives me waves with the heart. Seventeen hours minus twenty, one afternoon of southern at the end of September. The hour favourable with this cordial luminosity of the “masoandro mody” of Imerina. Since the “circular road”, two rainbows majestueusement streak the horizon behind the hill of Ambohitsoa-Mahazoarivo. Spectacle undoubtedly banal since plural exists for rainbow. But, of memory of the little boy that I am discovered still sometimes, what a innovation! This was not the decency of the age, I would have been extasié with my daughter: “It is too pretty! Live rainbow!”. Some share, I knew to keep intact my capacity of amazement since one could fear that only the capacity of indignation was daily sharpened on the stone remained rough. A book “collecto” is being prepared by a Belgian, Stefaan of Wolf author especially of unexpected lucky finds in a city, Antananarivo, which I really believed, and initially, mienne. “But, how does it make? ”. It quite simply kept the new eye, perhaps helped by the distance which inevitably its “alienity creates” (the automatic corrector of Microsoft Word tick terribly, but “strangeness” represents my thought imperfectly which thus exceeds the words). Such residence of character in front of which we spend the every day, and which we do not see even any more. Such innovating architecture which for a long time ceased astonishing us. The whole nested with the turning of improbable lanes, at the bottom of a dead end which as the Vazaha tourist his Malagasy photographer does not reach as easily, all in top of an abrupt staircase which tumbles down of the High-City. The new eye of the child who sommeille behind the adult stressed, always too in a hurry towards the useful one and never, finally, hastened towards the futile one. One did not finish travelling to two steps of on our premises but, like the very long tour of wise Chinese, it is necessary to take the first step. And with this intention, to especially take time over time. The time of a solitary walk from Anosimanjaka to Soarano while passing by Rova d' Ambohidratrimo; of another walk already more salutary in a daily newspaper from now on limed in sedentariness between Ambatoharanana and Andakana; of a climbing catch from Ambohitrangano to the top of Analamanitra: through only surveying Google and other gates Internet, the least movement borrows the “diagonal of insane”. Companies organize trekkings regularly side of the Tsiafajavona mount in Ambatolampy; others raiders regularly traverse two hundred kilometers in the desert savanna of a back-country that, definitely, I do not know. A foot in front of the other, it is still the rate/rhythm on human scale. The scale of the small things, of the banal things that one likes and with which it is necessary to learn how to fall in love again. This rainbow, in the heavy sky of rain of this afternoon of September, will have spared us a poetic pause which I did not have courage to be sulky.
source: The Express train of Madagascar Online |
