In the extreme south of Madagascar is a place called Berenty, where Tandroy tribesmen, French lords, mad scientists, and two or three species of lemurs may be found gathered peacefully under a tamarind tree. Forty years ago Alison Jolly went to Berenty to study lemurs, and she has been enthralled by it ever since. In Lords and Lemurs she tells the story of the place, its people, and its other animals. The owner of Berenty, Jean de Heaulme, arrived there in 1928 as a six-month-old baby, riding with his mother in the sidecar of his father's Harley-Davidson motorcycle. The de Heaulme family has lived at Berenty ever since, supporting Madagascar's fight for independence from France, serving in the government, and enduring economic turmoil, civil war, and even imprisonment. Although they are relics of a colonial system that seized land and tortured dissidents, the de Heaulmes also epitomize noblesse oblige in the best sense of the phrase, showing a remarkable sense of responsibility for both the people and the ecosystem of Berenty. Early on they set aside a large portion of their estate as a nature preserve, where lemurs and other animals have thrived over the years. Jean de Heaulme became a blood brother to one of the local Tandroy nobles -- the kings with spears. Traditionally the Tandroy were warriors who raided for women, cattle, and slaves. Now those who live at Berenty can take what they need from the modern world -- medical care, education, and a cash income -- without giving up their own customs and way of life. Many Tandroy still live in traditional villages surrounded by walls of thorn, and even the men who hold salaried jobs work hard so they can return to their clan with enough cattle to buy a bride or two. When a clan elder dies, the family offers a grandiose funeral where, amid gunfire and dancing and merrymaking and sex, a whole herd of zebu cattle is sacrificed to honor the new Ancestor -- even if he happens to be a Christian. Alison Jolly and her husband were honored to be invited to attend a Tandroy funeral. Poignant and colorful, tragic and funny, Lords and Lemurs is a remarkable tale of one of the last great places on earth and the extraordinary people who live there, a tale of marriage, birth, and death, of spear fights and stink fights and dancing. It shows how human warmth and dignity can reach out beyond any social system.
Alison Jolly (May 9, 1937 – February 6, 2014) was a primatologist, known for her studies of lemur biology. She wrote several books for both popular and scientific audiences and conducted extensive fieldwork on Lemurs in Madagascar, primarily at the Berenty Reserve, a small private reserve of gallery forest set in the semi-arid spiny desert area in the far south of Madagascar.
In 1987, my wife and I arrived in Antananarivo, Madagascar’s capital for a month’s stay. Fortuitously we had an introduction to a professor of Anthropology at the university and we wound up spending some time at his home before traveling (with great difficulty in those days of the country’s nadir) here and there. The professor had suggested that we visit a place in the far south, a special sanctuary where nature had been preserved. That place was called Berenty. We flew to the far south of the huge island and the small hotel sent a driver to pick us up at the airport, 53 miles away. We spent several days at Berenty, mostly walking in the riverine forest or in a patch of the unusual, tall, thorny plants of the dry south. A know-it-all Nobel prize winner and his crushed wife visited at the same time, with a honcho from the US and youthful hangers-on from France. Despite their antics, we met dozens of birds, some bats, and of course, the lemurs, the poster-animals of Madagascar. I was intrigued to learn that this was not a national park, but was part of a vast estate, run by a French family, where most of the land was used for growing sisal. While there, I didn’t learn much more.
Over 30 years later I ran across this book by Alison Jolly. I immediately bought it. Having read (and reviewed on GR) her book “A World Like Our Own”, I figured it would be good. I was not disappointed. For anyone interested in lemurs, in colonial history, and in stories of a remote place (from the point of view of almost everywhere else), “Lords & Lemurs” has a lot to offer. The main story is of the de Heaulme family whose members have been associated with the French activity in the western Indian Ocean for centuries. When many French people left the country when Madagascar became independent in 1960, this family decided to stay and carry on their sisal plantation. Their history is intimately linked to the Androy people of the area; with French colonial rule and life in a colony; and with the ups and downs of French history in the 20th century. At first, they continued to thrive after 1960, but as Madagascar turned to the left and soon crashed economically with state security being managed by the USSR, North Korea, and East Germany, the family underwent a number of trials including prison time for one. Jolly combines the story of this family with her observations of lemurs at Berenty, and the tribulations of the Androy, whose link to prickly pear cactus is one of the weird, but tragic, stories of history.
Madagascar is a unique place with the vast majority of its animals and plants found only there. At the same time, its growing population needs space, they need to earn a living in a land not blessed with valuable resources. The clash between economic necessity (human kingdom) and preservation of the natural kingdom is ongoing. Erosion is a major problem as is the desiccation of the already dry south. The efforts of these “lords” in one corner of the island are not enough. Conservation organizations often ignore the needs of local people. If you read this interesting, if chatty, book, you will gain a better understanding of the problems, which in some way mirror the problems of the whole world now.
Although I did not find every single page of this book to be fascinating, I deeply appreciated Alison Jolly's perspective on Madagascar's economic, political, and environmental history after years of working in the Androy region. As a lemur researcher, it must have been so difficult to remain balanced when discussing a period of 40 years in which the forests of Madagascar have rapidly eroded. Framing Madagascar's history of political unrest, poverty, and famines through stories (some her own, some from locals) made them seem more real to me.
I also loved that Jolly repeatedly acknowledged the role of women (and lack thereof) in Madagascar's history. Although I haven't read much historical non-fiction, when I do I'm usually unsatisfied with the token passages about what women were doing and what they were like. In this book, every woman seemed real and distinct-- just like the men.
I just wish there were more chapters about lemur behavior... I'm guessing that's in another book.
I may have went for this book with the wrong expectations... one of an intenser intertwine of nature and people. for this reason it disappointed me a bit. the narrative is also not always captivating. yet it is still a story worth reading.
"as economist amartya sen trumpets to the world, there is always food for those who can pay. famines are not about drought but about entitlement. even in Androy, people did not die because there was no food available; they died because they could not afford to buy it"
I stopped reading this last May after reading 107 pages. As I recall, I was really enjoying it, but I guess I bought/ got something that was more pressing.
The author first came to Madagascar to study lemurs in 1963, she’s been studying there ever since. One of the lords of the title is the de Heaulme family who came to southern Madagascar, Berenty to be exact, in 1928 and resolved immediately they would leave part of their land as a reserve. Each kilometer has over a thousand lemurs. Jolly says the de Heaulme family are a sort of feudal lords, then Tsiaketray is an Tandroy lord, the tribe that surrounds Berenty, he is plantation commander and one of the chief guides at Berenty.
Where this book bogs down is the 20th century history of Madagascar, its economics, its graft, its revolutions, famines and the development and lack of same in that century. I should have skimmed those parts of the book, I might have enjoyed the whole more if I had, but the book would have been less valuable had those portions not been there. I wanted to go to Madagascar before I read the book. Now I really want to go!
“If twenty lemurs promenade toward your living room television screen, and the sunlight haloes black-and-white ringed tails like swaying upraised question marks, that is Berenty. If you see a group of white sifaka leap between trees in aerial ballet or bounce over the ground with flailing arms, that is Berenty. In fact, it is likely to be Berenty’s parking lot, while the cameraman ties himself in knots to frame out the human side of the story.”
Although this book was classified as about lemurs, it's really more a combination of a personal memoir and a social and economic history of modern Madagascar, especially in the extreme south of the island. The focus is on the Berenty reserve where the author did most of her famous research on lemurs, and the de Heaulme family which established it, but she puts it in the context of the history of the region and its Tandroy as well as French inhabitants from the 1600s through the various conquests, rebellions and revolutions up to the droughts of recent years.
Unlike many conservation-oriented books I have read, Jolly has a real understanding that conservation is often a colonialist or neocolonialist endeavor carried out by foreign interests at the expense of the poorest native inhabitants, and that to last over the long term it must gain the support of the local population and involve considerations of sustainable development for the local economy.
The second half was much more interesting than the first. The first half should have been condensed greatly. It's a great way to learn about a land that most people don't know anything about, but there wasn't enough talk about the lemurs. But there never really is, is there?
just started this book, as we prepare, hopefully, for a trip to Madagascar from our home in Mozambique. i love the author's dense and somewhat surprising juxtaposition of words, lending the text a desirable non-fiction description of the land of the lemurs and an almost fantasy-like story. more to come....
Interesting, but not the most well written thing I've read. Reads a bit like something you'd have to read for a college class, rather than pleasure reading. It's the author's background as a scientist paired with the fact that she's trying to do some amateur anthropology here.
More of a history of Madagascar from the perspective of the South where the Tandroy live and the de Heaulme's Berenty Nature Reserve exists than a book about lemurs. A fascinating history of an incredible biodiverse country. I learned a lot!