Jungle out there

MY BELOVED Madagascar suffered a crippling blow last year when political unrest led to the country being closed to most tourism.

Bloodshed and death in the streets of Antananarivo resulted in 'don't visit' warnings by the governments of Britain, the US and Canada.

I was due to visit four times on a cruise ship and to lead a two-week land-based tour. All were cancelled along with hundreds of other ships and group visits.

The troubles were soon over but not in time to reinstate the tours and reports from conservation groups said that starving people were eating bush-meat – the colloquial name for lemurs. If this is so, it will only hasten the demise of this fascinating group of animals and see Madagascar sink further into poverty.

I have long advised everyone who wants to visit this captivating island to go sooner rather than later. That advice still stands.

Lemurs are its best-known inhabitants: pretty, furry, monkey-like mammals with foxy faces, varying in size from mice to chimpanzees.

But the island also has about 100 endemic species of birds. Two-thirds of the world's chameleon species live there, around 10,000 different trees and plants grow on its varied terrain, and the Malagasy are more Asian than African.

Madagascar was once connected to Africa and India as part of the super-continent Gondwanaland. It separated from them 100 million years ago, although the channel between it and Africa is just 186 miles across.

The island is 1,000 miles long and 360 wide. And many of its natural habitats have been destroyed.

Look into the eyes of a lemur and there is something strangely familiar. Familiar as in family, for these animals are distant cousins.

Lemurs are found only in Madagascar and on one or two of its offshore islands. They are the equivalent of Africa's apes, South America's monkeys or Asia's orang-utans – all are descended from the same primate stock.

Although classed as one of the world's largest islands (fourth after Greenland, New Guinea and Borneo), Madagascar is really a mini-continent. Most of its animals, birds and plants are found nowhere else on earth.

Unlike some sailors, I do not have a wife in every port. But in Madagascar I do have an eight-year-old fiance.

Claudine is a little girl (in stature and age) who lives in a village on the edge of a spiny forest between Fort Dauphin and Berenty, a lemur sanctuary. Each time we go to Berenty I stop the bus at Claudine's village, where people supplement their incomes with the sale of hand-carved wooden animals and trees.

I met Claudine on several trips, latterly taking a parcel of gifts that she might find useful – clothes, school equipment and books.

The time before last she ran home with her presents and came back a few minutes later with a miniature spear with a metal head, which she presented to me. I was touched, as you can imagine, and there was much picture-taking and thanks given.

We drove on in silence for a while – I always wonder if I will see her again; infant mortality is so high that there has to be a doubt.

Mamy, my tour manager, broke the silence with an unforgettable quip: 'Now you are engaged to her you'll have to bring Claudine a Zebu cow next time.

'That spear is an engagement gift.'

We laughed, but the next time she was not there.

I found her uncle, who told me that the family had moved to the nearest town so that Claudine could attend school. He would ensure that my gifts (which did not include a Zebu) were delivered.

Our tour visits two mid-altitude rainforests at Perinet and Ranomafana, both wonderful stretches of leech-infested jungle. Leeches are still used in medicine, so the odd bite is nothing to worry about, although they are best avoided by using insect repellent.

As a nuisance they are well worth putting up with – the birds and animals in these jungles are quite spectacular.

We rub banana onto branches at a feeding station and are thrilled when, at dusk, tiny mouse lemurs run around in the trees, licking up the mashed fruit.

It is amazing to think that these minute creatures that look just like mice are indeed primates and share 96% of their genes with man.

We visit Berenty Forest in the south of the island on every trip I do to Madagascar to see ring-tailed lemurs and Verreaux's 'dancing' sifakas.

The ring-tailed lemurs usually ignore us as they move through trees on the edge of the forest, communicating through a complex language of quiet grunts and coughs.

The highlight, however, are Verreaux's sifakas, lemurs that live in extraordinary spiny forests, getting around by enormous leaps from one tree to another.

How they perform injury-free four-point landings on trees bristling with sharp thorns, nobody knows.

When crossing open land, they stand on their hind legs and leap sideways with their arms outstretched, hence the nickname of dancing sifaka. Happily, they are common in the camp and we usually see this manoeuvre several times.

Visits to remote and obscure islands are always thrilling and there are too many encounters with birds and animals in Madagascar for this column alone.

Madagascar's wildlife is under great threat.

Ecotourism is a fabulous way to help local people make money from wildlife but, nevertheless, the sooner a visit is planned, the better.