At the end
of a day full of misunderstandings, when the taxi brousse left at 1, rather
than 10 in the morning, and we ended up in St. Augustin rather than in
Sarodrano, all that really isn’t a problem at all. We met Marcel, who is our
friend now, in the way that people, especially those earning their living in
tourism, become your friends within half an hour here. He takes us to the
village cinema: A tiny enclosure with a reed fence. A black-and-white TV on a
chair displays some martial arts film, the loud speaker on the chair next to it
emits squeaking sounds. About 20 people sit on wooden benches or on the dirt as
we sneak in. After a few minutes, I lift my head and prefer the spectacle of
a million-stars-sky to that on the screen.
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