by Faun Rice
When Mother Ranavalona died and came to Ambondrombe, the andriana and
commoners on Ambondrombe were happy and rejoiced, and the people cried
out for joy, and soldiers stood in formation, and music played, and cannons fired
all around. The celebrations lasted over half a month. Many oxen were presented
to Mother Ranavalona, and many cannon, so even on Ambondrombe the whole
town was agog at the grandeur of the queen’s ascent. After a while some palace
attendants from Antananarivo came to Ambondrombe [presumably because they
had died], and told Mother Ranavalona, “Radama II and the people are praying.”
And Mother Ranavalona was furious and spoke with Radama, saying,
“They say that Ikotoseheno and my subjects in Antananarivo are praying.”
And, purportedly, Father Radama told her, “He belongs to both of us. Let
him do what he likes, because he’s our only child.”
When Mother Ranavalona heard what Radama said she cried out in a
rage, “So what mortal person is it who’s caused Ikotoseheno to start praying?”—
calling here to the people of Antananarivo.
Furious, she set out for the capital. Radama tried to stop her, but she
wouldn’t let him; Radama tried to block off the road, but he wasn’t able to block
it; Radama ordered the forest around the highway set on fire, but even then he
couldn’t stop her; she was determined to seize her son anyway, because there was
absolutely nothing she hated so much as praying.
And when she’d gone, Radama was frustrated, because he hadn’t been
given many soldiers, there were a mere handful consigned to follow him when
THE PEOPLE AS NURSEMAIDS OF THE KING
331
he set out for Antananarivo. So Mother Ranavalona in her anger said, “I put my
faith in you, you Army that follow me, and you others who refuse to abandon
your Mistress (referring to the small numbers of soldiers and civilians with her).
We must set out this very night!” (Callet 1908: 640)77
Neither monarch had, apparently, managed to scrounge up sufficient forces in
the land of the dead to support a march on the capital. The queen, however,
knew how to gather reinforcements; and so, the account goes on to say, when
the next day her followers began to flag under the weight of her baggage, she
ordered them to seize anyone they passed on the road as porters—apparently,
since Radama I plays no further part in the story, leaving her late husband lan-
guishing helplessly behind.
Before long, possessed women and their escorts were occupying the sites of
tombs and tops of sacred mountains, where they danced with bottles of water on
their heads, or flung themselves from heights, to return unscathed; others were
donning their finest apparel and marching in processions toward the capital,
snatching the hats of all men they passed, claiming they had to be removed out
of respect for the passing queen. Often they’d eat nothing for days on end, yet
still showed themselves capable of impossible feats of strength. Slaves joined the
77. “Raha tonga tao Ambondrombe Ranavalonareniny efa niamboho, dia faly sy ravo ny
andriana sy ny ambaniandro tao Ambondrombe; ary nihoby ny vahoaka, sy nilahatra ny
miaramila, sy velona ny mozika, ary nipoaka ny tafondro manodidina, ary izany fifaliana
izany naharitra tapabolana mahery. Ny omby betsaka no nentin- dRanavalonareniny,
ny tafondro betsaka, ka mahagaga tokoa tany an-tanana n’ Ambondrombe tamy ny
izany fiakarany ny andriana izany. Ka nony efa tonga elaela Ranavalonareniny, dia
misy olona tandapa taty Antananarivo tonga tany Ambondrombe, ka nilaza tamy ny
Ranavalonareniny:’fa mivavaka Radama II sy ny vahoaka.’ Dia tezitra Ranavalona,
ka niteny tamindRadamarainy hoe: ‘Mivavaka, hony, Kiotoseheno sy ny vahoaka ko any
Antananarivo.’ Dia niteny, hony, Radamarainy nanao hoe: ‘lny no antsika, ka avelao
izy hanao izay tia’ ny, fa zaza tokana amy ntsika.’—Raha nandre ny fitenindRadama
Ranavalonareniny, dia tezitra ka nanao hoe ‘Olombelona iza moa no hampivavaka
any Kiotoseheno!’ miantso ny olona aty Antananarivo. Dia tezitra izy, ka niezaka
hankaty Antananarivo; ka no sakanan-Radama, ka tsy azo no sakanana; ka nambenan-
dRadama ny lalana, ka tsy azo nambenana izy; nasain-dRadama no dorana ny ala
lalambe, ka tsy azo izy, fa miezaka haka ny zana’ ny hiany: fa tsy tia ny dia tsy tia’ ny
indrindra ny mivavaka. Ary nony efa nandeha izy, dia tezitra Radama, ka tsy nomena
miaramila betsaka, fa vitsy foana no nome’ny hanaraka azy hankaty Antananarivo. Ka
tezitra Ranavalonareniny ka nanao hoe: ‘Toky no ome’ ko anareo ry foloalindahy izay
manaraka ahy, sy hianareo tsy mahafoy Tompo, (miantso ny tsimandoa sy ny borizano
vitsivitsy), dia tsy maintsy handeha isika anio alina.’”
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ON KINGS
caravans, some shackled in invisible chains; others would suddenly fall writhing
as they were lashed by unseen overseers, stripes from spectral whips appearing
mysteriously on their flesh. Numerous raids were carried out on the new plan-
tations around the capital, cash crops were seized and deposited on tombs, and
dancers descended on the city from all directions carrying stalks of sugarcane.
Many converged on the plain of Mahamasina, a wide-open space at the foot
of the hill of Antananarivo, containing the sacred stone on which Merina kings
are traditionally invested in office. “This stone,” Davidson noted, “was a favorite
rendezvous for them. They danced here for hours on end, and concluded by
placing the sugarcane, as a sort of offering, upon the stone” (1867: 133).
The king, increasingly drug-addled and confused, wavered between pater-
nalistic indulgence and occasional ineffective attempts at police repression:
[The Ramanenjana] conveyed the fruits of the land, they seized whatever they
liked, whether oranges, or sugarcane, or bananas. And they didn’t have the slight-
est fear of the thorns, as often owners would surround such fields with thorny
hedges, but they just walked across the thorns, and no part of their bodies were
injured in the process; they did whatever was required to seize the fruit of the
land to carry to the king. Even if it was land guarded by its owner, they just took
it, and their kin would pay money later; because Radama II put out an edict:
“Whoever stands in the way of those who are sick, I declare guilty, do not stand
in their way, let them take what they want to take, for they are ill.” And there at
the sacred stone at Mahamasina they took the things they’d appropriated; they
didn’t eat it, not at all, they placed it atop the sacred stone, or on top of moun-
tains, or at the head of tombs; and every now and then, one would carry it home
to place in the Corner of the Ancestors. And when they presented the sugarcane
and other fruits of the land, sometimes, their fevers would abate.78
78. “Dia manatitra ny vokatry ny tany, ka maka voankazo na fary na akondro . . . . dia
tsy matahotra ny tsilo akory izy ireny; fa matetika mifefy ny saha n’olona ka be tsilo
manodidina, ka manitsaka ny tsilo be iny izy, ka tsy maratra ny tena ny rehetra amy
ny izany, fa atao ny izay ahazoa’ ny ny vokatra ny tany ho entina amy ny andriana; fa
raha tany miaro ny tompon
javatra, dia alain’ ny hiany, fa ny havana no mandoa vola;
fa tamy ny Radama II namoaka didy izy nanao hoe, ‘raha misakana ny marary dia atao
ko meloka, fa tsy sakanana izy, fa avela haka izay tia’ny halaina ireo, fa olona marary,’
dia eny amy ny vato masina eny Mahamasina, no mametraka ny zavatra alaina, fa tsy
dia hani’ny tsy akory, fa atao ny eny ambony ny vatomasina, eny antendrombohitra, eny
andoha fasana; indraindray enti’ny mody ka apetra’ny eo an-jorofirarazana; ary rahefa
manatitra ny fary na zavatra hafa vokatry ny tany, dia miafa ny sasany.”
THE PEOPLE AS NURSEMAIDS OF THE KING
333
And they say there were some, ill with the Ramanenjana, who entered the rova
[the royal compound] saying “Where is Radama II?”
And the guards said, “He’s here inside the rova.”
And the sick women spoke again, “Let us enter, as his mother has sent us
here to see him.”
The guards relayed those words to Radama, and he allowed the sick wom-
en to enter, and once before him the sick women said, “Be well, my Lord! Live
long, my Lord! May you grow old beside your mother!”
And Radama was taken aback by the words, “may you grow old beside your
mother.” But, he asked himself, isn’t my mother dead?
Then the sick woman spoke, and said, “My Lord! Your mother is waiting
for you over in Mahamasina.”
Radama II was shocked again to hear that, but then he ordered the woman
arrested, because there wasn’t anything at all at Mahamasina, aside from innu-
merable sick people around the sacred stone, and those singing for them. And
when Radama saw the sick woman, having been tied up, was on the point of
dying, her ordered her released . . . . (Callet 1908: 641)79
The “fruit of the land” referred to here were treated exactly as santatra, which
were conveyed to the king as a gesture of homage which also recognized him as
a child, nurtured by the people. In fact, every aspect of the proceedings—con-
ducted almost exclusively by the laboring classes—might have been designed
to reinforce the message that human labor is properly directed to that larger
ritual system which nourishes the sovereign (and not, presumably, toward inter-
nationally oriented commercial enterprise). The carrying of sugarcane, for in-
stance, recal s processions carried out during circumcision rituals—the prince’s
79. “Ary misy koa, hony, ny marary Ramanenjana niditra tany anaty rova nanao hoe:
‘Aiza Radama II?’—Dia niteny ny mpiambina nanao hoe: ‘Ato anaty rova.’—Dia
niteny indray ny marary: ‘Avelao aho hiditra, fa asain-dreny ny mankaty amy ny.’—
Dia lazainy ny mpiambina amindRadama izany teny izany; dia navela ny hiditra ny
marary; dia niteny ny marary eo anatrehan dRadama II nanao hoe: ‘Sarasara Tompo ko
e! trarantitra Tompo ko e! mifanantera amy ny reny nao.’—Dia taitra Radama amy ny
teny hoe mifanantera aminy reny nao.—‘Moa, hoy Radama anakampo ny, tsy maty ny
reny ko!’—Dia niteny ny marary nanao hoe: ‘Tompokolahy o!: reny nao etsy Mahamasina
miandry anao.’ Taitra indray Radama II nandre izany, ka nasai’ny ho samborina ny
marary, fa teo Mahamasina tsy nisy na inona na inona akory, afatsy ny marary be dia be
manodidina ny vato masina, sy ny mpihira ny marary. Ary rahefa voa fatotra ny marary,
dia saikia maty, dia nasain-dRadama nalefa . . . ”
334
ON KINGS
own circumcision, many years before, had been a nationwide festival of unpar-
alleled magnificence—but these were precisely the kinds of great public cer-
emonial he was currently abandoning. The fact that the women who now fil ed
the streets of the city, surrounding the palace, claimed to have been sent there
by the king’s own mother to admonish him only made the message unusual y
transparent.
Even when the king tried to propitiate the Ramanenjana, his gestures tend-
ed to backfire. According to one foreign observer, after the “crazy dancers” had
descended on the palace, Radama even issued an edict that all who passed them
on the road should, indeed, doff their hats as to his mother—an order which
then caused no slight indignation on the part of members of the elite now
obliged to render respect to what many considered mere mobs of rebellious
female slaves (S. P. Oliver 1866: 94–95).
Before long, the sampy guardians, stalwarts of the anti-Christian faction,
began to come out into the streets in support of the dancers. The Christians
tried to mobilize their own marches against them. The city began to experience
something like a general insurrection. Whole regiments of soldiers seized by
the “disease” marched on the city, bringing their guns and even toting pieces of
artillery; companies of workers summoned for fanompoana abandoned their as-
signments and converged on Mahamasina. The military high command—who
were mostly from the traditionalist faction—became increasingly restless as the
king’s behavior seemed to grow ever more unhinged and bizarre. Finally, in
mid-May 1863, they found a pretext in a royal order legalizing dueling: consid-
ering the state of the capital, this must have seemed like a veritable invitation
to civil war. The commander in chief, the later Prime Minister Rainilaiarivony,
ordered two thousand troops into the city to besiege the rova and slaughter the
Menamaso. A few days later, the king himself was strangled with a red silk cord,
and the kingship allowed to pass to his wife—but only on condition she agree to
reverse her late husband’s decision to allow foreigners to buy land in the country.
(Christians, however, were still allowed full freedom to pray and to proselytize.)
That August, the new queen Rasoherina duly appeared on the stone of Maha-
masina to accept the people’s vows.
So ended the brief reign of the last of Madagascar’s would-be Napoleonic
reformers. In a kabary held on April 24 of the next year, her new prime minister
introduced Rasoherina to the Ambanilanitra—the “below the sky,” or people of
the country—in the following fashion:
THE PEOPLE AS NURSEMAIDS OF THE KING
335
And as for the common people, whether white or black, may you live! But also,
do not be the nurses of many; because it is Queen Rasoherina who is the nursling
of the people. (Cousins 1873: 49)80
CONCLUSIONS
If half of wisdom is knowing how to ask the right questions, then we are, per-
haps, roughly halfway there.
It would seem that something about the integration of the Merina kingdom
into the larger world economy triggered a crisis in its very conception of sov-
ereignty. Traditionally, monarchs were seen as very much like children: willful,
egocentric, yet totally dependent on the people whose willingness to tend to
their needs made their lives possible, and whose willingness to obey even their
most arbitrary orders made them sovereigns. Infantilizing rulers in this way had
a double effect: on the one hand, it made it possible for their subjects to forgive
even the most occasionally brutal behavior; on the other, it provided a language
through which those subjects, as the king’s nursemaids, could intervene when a
c
onsensus arose among them that things had gone too far.
One might argue that it was really King Andrianampoinimerina who first
marked a break with this tradition. But matters seem to have really come to a
head in 1816, shortly after his death, once European missionaries and advisors
appeared on the scene. From that moment on, an unmistakable pattern appears.
All male sovereigns—including near- or apparent would-be ones like Andri-
amihaja—see themselves as Napoleonic reformers,81 and each is directly chal-
lenged by women: Radama I by the women’s assembly of 1822; Andriamihaja
by the former wives of Andrianampoinimerina who convinced Ranavalona to
destroy her ambitious lover; Radama II by the trance dancers of 1863. Radama
I seems to have been most effective in fending such challenges off, but in fact
it wasn’t long before he fell into the drunken malaise that destroyed him—one
80. “Ny ambani-lanitra, na ny fotsy, na ny mainty, veloma, koa aza maro fitaiza; fa
Rasoheri-manjaka no taizany ny ambani-lanitra.”
81. Radama II never self-consciously identified himself with Napoleon as far as we
know, but he actually entered into an alliance with one, Napoleon III, and clearly
saw himself as an Enlightenment reformer on the same model.
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ON KINGS
could argue, as a direct result of the dismantling of the ritual system which was,
ultimately, designed to nurture and sustain the king.
Why did this happen?
In the existing literature, such overly ambitious kings tend to be identified
with a mythic figure, derived from highland folktales, of the Andriambahoaka
or “universal sovereigns” from the center of the four quarters of the cosmos,82
and hence a revival of heroic figures of the past—even, kings who took seri-
ously the notion that they were “Gods seen by the eye.” They represent a kind
of bursting into the present of mythological times. Worldwide, this is not at
all an uncommon conception, but in this context it seems particularly inap-
propriate. What’s unusual about the vision of history that emerges from the
Tantara and other nineteenth-century texts is that it does not follow the com-