Here, women collect fresh water from the shallows of a river in long bamboo containers. The water is contained in the hollow area between bamboo sections. The vegetation and the women's clothing indicate the scene is coastal, probably from the Betsimisaraka (east coast). Ralambo's image is again the romanticized rural scene, and is reminiscent of European hand tinted botanical etchings.
Collection: Norwegian Missionary Society
Lemurian Sands, Seas, Grove
seas, endless seas, roll in, break, foam, on sand,
roll back, roar anguish, sigh pleasure
from rock to rockpool, teeming with life
sands filter time, as dreams sift sleep
leaves, whispers, trees, swayings, roots deep in earth
the mask hides
look at the eyes to see
madness sparks red-fire through sinister slits
the eyes you cannot hide
Sea Shell Dance Floor
Walking through the seashell door, I can't see where I'm going, because the entrance curves gently all the way around to the hidden interior, but the mother-of-pearl surface is smooth and sensuous to walk on.
It cools my sand-baked feet, and tempts me to join
the merry company of dancers already twirling and pirouetting to a lively
tune on the shell's curled rim.
Blue, turquoise and green sea-colours of the transparent, luminous shell-floor shimmer and change subtly with every step the dancers take, whirling madly like a kaleidoscope when the music is fast and demanding, softening to a mere glimmer when the tempo becomes slow, moody and deep with romance, and the dancers gaze into each others eyes to see what magic they can find there.
I drift in the arms of a dream-dancer, floating on a wash of sea-colours. We dance down through the shell, our faces barely touching.
Deep inside the shell, sea-sounds echo softly off delicate pearl-hued walls, translucent like fine bone china. When the dancing is over, the sea-music sings me to sleep, curled in the apex of the shell in my sea-lover's arms.