Madagascar Bike Ride memories by Jane Langdon. I have often heard it said that you should never return to somewhere special in case the magic of your first visit is broken. Well, I have now been fortunate enough to join the annual LEPRA cycle to Madagascar for the past three years and each time the island has become more special to me and the magic has never gone away. This year was no exception and the usual eclectic group of people gradually all gathered at Heathrow airport at some unearthly time of the morning, hauling our bags and bikes about and generally causing mayhem and amusement in the departure lounge. I met old friends and new with one trait in common – a desire to be part of a different world where our so called western standards held little value – to meet the generous, loving and untainted people of this land – to see for ourselves the incredible work achieved by the charity and, oh yes, to cycle over 500 kilometres so that we could tell our sponsors that we had achieved our aim. Or put another way, you have to be slightly ‘off the wall’ to take part in one of these adventures!

The richly fertile island of Madagascar is one of the poorest countries in the world with malnutrition and disease still prevalent in many areas. Here, LEPRA work with the French leprosy charity, Raoul Follereau and as we cycled through some of the remotest areas, we visited projects and missions supported by the charity and could see for ourselves not just how so much of their income is used, but also what an uphill struggle they have to reach some of the remote tribes and villages and indeed, the difficult decisions they are faced with on how to spend their limited resources. It’s so easy to judge and pass what you think is constructive criticism but until you see the enormous hurdles there are to overcome in third world countries, it is then that you can respect and admire all that LEPRA have achieved in their constant determination and fight to eradicate leprosy and help those affected by diseases of poverty. It is remarkable to see how they are restoring the hope and dignity to those inflicted with these horrible diseases.

Every year as I struggle to reach the top of the hills I question myself as to why on earth am I here again! So much for ‘what goes up must come down’ – trust me – the uphills in Madagascar always seem to be much longer than the downs… With little investment being made by the government there to improve the infrastructure, the roads in places are little more than farm tracks. The potholes were so big they had grass growing in them and the challenge of weaving around them felt at times, more like a BMX course. I, of course, didn’t quite avoid all of them and so was very appreciative of the springs in my saddle that absorbed some but by no means all of the bumps! On one day of rain, we arrived at our hotel resembling bedraggled rats but the euphoria of all making it through caused much celebration (and the odd glass of beer) that night. Other days we had wonderful sunshine and the opportunity to look around and soak up the magnificent panoramic views of this widely diverse countryside. To try and remember the magnificent colours of the wild bougainvillea and the sweet smell of the coffee beans and vanilla growing beside the road and to see the enormous bunches of sweet yellow bananas hanging in abundance from the many plants.

But for me the real memory of the cycle is the people who call out hello as we fly through their villages. The children’s faces, at first in utter bewilderment at the sight of mad cyclists, that then turn to the widest grins imaginable as they call out ‘ a kuriabi’ (good morning). Their big brown eyes twinkle as they accept a bonbon from us strangers. We took their photographs on our digital cameras and the amazement in both young and old as we showed them the screen caused much amusement and laughter. Many of our memories of the trip are held on these little discs but more importantly, are the memories we have in our minds. The special moments we shared with one another, at times so heart wrenching that you feel totally inadequate and angry and others when we can see how much has changed for the better and how conditions are slowly improving. A special bond is formed with your fellow cyclists as you know that they have experienced the same as you and question why these innocent, generously loving people do not have the simplest basics in life. The poverty is numbing here – but the richness in affection is overwhelming.

After our last day of cycling it was with a confused mind that I packed away my bike for the return. Great – no more hills and headwind – but also no more simple joy of just hearing the giggles and laughter of the children. No more cold showers or lumpy beds – but no more smiling faces of the severely handicapped children or the little hand slipped into yours whenever we stopped. It takes quite a bit to re-adjust to everyday life again without those simple pleasures. On the last night Lizzie and Stuart gave out certificates as a reward for completing the cycle. My award was to the only person who ever walked DOWN a hill – not my fault if I’m not a kamikaze cyclist on rough roads! At one point, after a particularly gruelling hill, I begged Lizzie not to accept a deposit from me to do another ride but as I sit at home re-reading my diary, my mind wanders back to those two special weeks in September and maybe, just maybe, if I go once more will the magic still be there? There’s only one way to find out………..!!!!! 04/11/2005.

Madagascar Bike Ride memories by Robert Littledale. On September 9th 2005 seventeen bikers set off for Madagascar to visit various church missions and other organisations which provide care and support for leprosy sufferers and their families with the assistance of Association Raoul Follerau, an ILEP charity supported by LEPRA.

Madagascar is a stunningly beautiful country and the initial ride down from Fianarantsoa in the Central Highlands was pure magic with every uphill grind – and there were plenty of them - being rewarded with an exhilarating downhill zoom in the gin clear air, with each corner producing a view more fantastic than the last. The villagers on our route gave a warm, if bemused, welcome to this motley bunch of cyclists.

Once down near the east coast we started our round of visits. The extreme poverty and poor living conditions in this part of the country produce much malnutrition and disease and we saw many cases of TB, polio and other diseases as well as the leprosy cases. There is only very limited government health service provision in this part of the country so the main resources are those provided by charities and the churches. The most impressive of these was the mission at Tanjemoha headed by Pere Emeric of the order of St Vincent de Paul whom a number of our group had been helping for some years. In all Pere Emeric has some 600 people under his care. The energy he put into this community and the love it returned him touched us all. We also had time on our "days off" to shop in the markets, swim in the ocean and have a relaxing time in good company.

We travelled as far as Faramangana and then returned back up the coast in considerable heat and a brisk headwind to Manakara where we took a magnificent ride in a very old train back to Fianarantsoa. The experience of cycling in such a beautiful country and being amongst such poor but good spirited people is hard to convey. The difference between the many hardships of their daily lives and the comforts we take for granted at home is stark indeed. It is a privilege to have been able to help these people in a small way. 04/11/2005.