Madagascar history is a story told, it was never recorded but rather transformed to stories and tales, narrated by local tongues from generation to generation, elders to the young, promptly told as heard. One tale still gives me the shivers every time I pass by the old neighborhood where my parents’ house used to be. It tells the story of a creature half man half bull that dwelled in the presidential palace nearby. This centaur, as they called it, had a peculiar appetite: it ate kids.
[ a collaborative work and message with: Safidy Andrianantenaina ]