After lunch we continued on into a flat and arid zone with virtually no trees or vegetation to detract from the rock outcroppings. Along the way our guide, Vy, decided that we should stop at a very small village along the road, one of a dozen buildings at the most, all clustered around a shallow dug well. It was mid afternoon and the temperature was hot. The villagers were sitting in the shade of one of the larger huts. We greeted them, shared some of our cookie packets, and then had a tour of the village. As I have noted about other Malagasys, the people we met were friendly and welcoming. Despite the condition of the huts in which they lived - no running water, dirt floors, and no electricity - they were dressed very attractively in bright colors.
We saw a number of the small homes that were about as primitive as anything we could imagine. One in particular looked as if it had been deliberately destroyed. Its walls were rubble and its thatched roof sat a-kilter on the ground like the top of some giant fallen cake. Our guide explained to us that this house had belonged to a villager who had died recently. The custom is to destroy the house of a person after he or she has died.
