Through its nightlife, I've come to like Tana, the capital of Madagascar. Last night, I was taken out by a guy I met in a restaurant. As he put it, whenever he goes clubbing, he takes a new girl back to his hotel.
The first nightclub we went to was full of beautiful women, all ready to dance, all ready to speak, all ready to have fun. Some, many, expect a cadeau at the end of the night, but when I've avoided these girls, spoilt by rich vasahas, I've found normal Malagasy have the same love for life.
This world is different. In India, I could never go out, and in two months of travel, I spoke at length to two local women. In Australia, men women interactions are hindered by a strong Christian tradition. Only in Madagascar have I seen raw desire. Yes, desire for sex, but not anonymously. Women desire to dance, to have fun, to laugh, to talk; they live for a lust we westerners chose to ignore.
I am no longer shocked by the spectacle of old vahasa and young Malagasy women. Why? Because I see these girls enjoy themselves. If they like it, is there anything wrong with it? They know these men will love them for a week. They know that they have families back home.
Reading what I've written, I seem to imply I've accepted what happens here. I haven't, but I'm getting used to it.
Tomorrow I leave towards the Tsingy, the famous rock formations. It'll take me a week to get there. I will take taxi brousses, canoes, hitchike, and walk.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment