man with rice

One of the main local routes passed through and past our camp. Each morning and afternoon zebu would be herded past our tents, and throughout the day men, women and children would pass by with goods of various kinds - and often a chicken or two, which our kitchen staff would maybe purchase to add to Harry's clan.

The heavy clouds in the distance were becoming the usual fare over the hills, but it was still sunny at camp.

Harry was a black hen gifted to us by an old man and his family who we visited on our first day in Mahatalaky. We were passing and he invited us in to sit under his trees in the, very welcome, shade. As the chef de fokontany (mayor) was out of town, he welcomed us to the town, and gave us Harry. Chickens came, got fattened, and ended in the pot; but Harry was ours and so survived.