In Madagascar, “farmers have always seen the state as an oppressive system”

“The president [of the Republic] talks about Laniera but he doesn’t know anything about what’s going on here. For him, Laniera is just a big space. But here we’re fighting,” Ly explains. He lives in the village of Sitabaomba, located in the vast swampy plain of Laniera, some fifteen kilometers from the Malagasy capital Antananarivo, and is one of the central characters in Sitabaomba, chez les zébus francophones (Papang Films, Endemika Films, Niko Film, Diam Production), Nantenaina Lova’s latest feature-length documentary, in French cinemas since October 23 2024.

In this new eye opening film, co-written with his wife and producer Eva Lova-Bély, the Madagascan director has set himself the same mission as in his previous two: to share the committed daily lives of those who rarely make the news, while also highlighting Madagascan culture. Ady Gasy (2014) showed the ingenuity of the most disadvantaged to survive, while Aza Kivy - Étoile du Matin (2020) focused on the mobilization of fishermen and farmers in Tuléar (southern Madagascar) against a foreign mining company threatening their environment and disrupting their lives.

With Sitabaomba, chez les zébus francophones, Nantenaina Lova, little hat still perched on his head, this time takes us alongside Ly and other small farmers from Laniera who find themselves confronted with road construction, and then the repeated assaults of wealthy land speculators from the city (see trailer below). For seven years, Nantenaina Lova filmed, with delicacy and empathy, their protests and their fight before the courts to preserve their fields and their way of life, while bulldozers attacked their verdant lands, destroying rice paddies and orange groves, so that buildings can emerge on this ground.

His story, which oscillates between seriousness and wry humor, is threefold. It is part of the country’s history, told by actress Claudia Tagbo, and unfolds through a tale staged with puppets by the children of Sitabaomba. It is also faithful to the tradition of kabary, the Malagasy art of oratory, and to the state of mind of the people of the Big Island. “In our language, to express despair in the face of the aberrant and sad situations we encounter on a daily basis, we are accustomed to saying ‘mampihomehy’, which literally translates as ‘it makes you laugh’. Laughing at injustice rather than crying is a form of modesty, and resisting rather than feeling sorry for oneself, is a form of courage. Modest, courageous and sometimes funny too, that’s how I see the members of Ly’s family, the leaders of the association [Laniera’s peasant association, of which Ly is a member], the village children and the artists I filmed”, says Nantenaina Lova in the film’s press kit.

“We often think that the road bring progress”

Fanny Pigeaud : How would you present Sitabaomba, chez les zébus francophones in a few sentences ?

Nantenaina Lova : My film chronicles a village struggling to resist the arrival of city dwellers and greedy speculators, who came with the construction of a road. We often think that roads bring progress and development. In our urban minds, it’s a positive thing. But in fact it upsets the balance, and in this case, that of this village, Sitabaomba. It’s this metamorphosis that interests me: how people keep their culture, their way of doing things, their identity, how they resist.

Fanny Pigeaud : Among the villagers featured in the film are Ly and his family. A hard-working farmer with luminous eyes, Ly is also a well-known speaker in his village. How did we meet ?

Nantenaina Lova : I first met Ly in 2007, when I shot a short film about a village festival in Sitabaomba. I had discovered this village, lost in the marshes of Antananarivo, where the houses still had thatched roofs and the inhabitants had preserved their peasant identity. And then, time flew by. In 2016, I heard about peasants protesting against real estate speculators. I went there to see what was going on. When I saw Ly, I realized that I knew this village ! I hadn’t recognized it at first, because the roadworks had already started and, nine years earlier, I’d taken a slightly different route to get there. I was very happy to find Ly, but also very sad to see that it was about to be invaded by city dwellers - of which I was one.

Fanny Pigeaud : The film questions the notion of land ownership. Can you tell us more ?

Nantenaina Lova : Land ownership means land title, and land title means papers... We’re dealing with a system inherited from colonial times: the colonial power decreed that all land belonged to France, except for land for which the State issued a title; this land was no longer State property, but private property. This system had traumatic effects. It is still in force and is the source of many administrative complications, particularly as the law is often modified and, in our culture, we are not used to having papers to claim a property.

I don’t know if there’s a single Malagasy family who hasn’t had land problems, because of the paperwork involved. To give you an idea: two-thirds of the cases handled by Malagasy courts are linked to land issues. That’s a lot ! And it sucks up so much energy and money for the State and for the people...

“Very few people manage to obtain a [land] title”

Fanny Pigeaud : What opportunities are there for small farmers to become plot owners ?

Nantenaina Lova : There is a provision in the land law which states that if someone has been developing a plot of land for more than five years, he or she is entitled to start the process of recognizing this development and applying for a land title. In practice, however, the process is so complicated and time-consuming that many people give up along the way. In advertisements for the sale of land on the Internet or in newspapers, it says: “We have a land certificate.” But the certificate is only a local recognition of a valuation. It’s just one of the things required to apply for a land title. Very few people manage to obtain a title: only 10 % of the country’s land is titled. This is how the State arrives at farmers’ homes, saying: “There are no titles here, we saw at the estates department that there was no one.” But that’s not true: there are peasants there who are putting the land to good use by cultivating it and producing enough to eat.

Fanny Pigeaud : Listening to the inhabitants of Sitabaomba, it’s easy to understand that in the past, the methods used to mark the ownership of a property were quite different...

Nantenaina Lova : In the film, you see cow dung, which is used to fuel the cooking fire. In the old days, if you spotted a cow pat drying out and wanted to use it, all you had to do was turn it over. The others understood that someone had been there and would come back to pick it up when it was quite dry. You didn’t need a title deed for that... There’s a proverb that says: “You don’t look at the deserted plain, you look at Zanahary (God) overhead.” This means that just because you’re alone, you don’t go stealing someone else’s cow dung. That’s how the ancients worked: there were relationships of trust and generosity. But the moment we introduced administration and money, everything was turned upside down. But in the farming world, those values are still alive and well: it’s still important to keep one’s word.

Fanny Pigeaud : In the film, the inhabitants of Sitabaomba address a worker hired by one of the speculators, criticizing his role in the spoliation of their land. He ends up saying that he himself has suffered a land grab in his locality... 

Nantenaina Lova : The problem is really widespread. Around 2020, Ly and I wanted to buy plots of land that were in good shape and, above all, far from the difficulties he was experiencing. But where we went, 300 kilometers from his home, we also found land-grabbing problems. On the spot, people thought we’d come on behalf of someone important. “He came last week to plant stakes all over our land and you, you’re working for him, taking photos to do your business in town and get land titles on our back !,”, we were told. As a result, Ly decided not to settle there: he didn’t want to go through the same problems he had back home...

I was mistaken for a topographer because my camera tripod looked like a surveying instrument. In fact, I’m going to have to make a T-shirt that says: “I’m a filmmaker, not a topographer !” It’s been sixty-four years since the country became independent, and we still haven’t put an end to this land administration mess. I get the impression that it suits some people that the problem hasn’t been resolved. It makes it easier for those who know how the “paperwork” works to take over land easily.

“No one trusts anyone anymore”

Fanny Pigeaud : Another aspect of the film is that farmers don’t always know who they’re dealing with in these land-grabbing processes. How common is this ?

Nantenaina Lova : The situation is often confused. Sometimes, the state apparatus is used by some people to impose things that are unfair. Then no one trusts anyone. There’s a distrust in people’s minds of anything administrative: farmers have always seen the state as an oppressive system that dispossesses them.

Fanny Pigeaud : When the farmers of Sitabaomba, united in an association, understand that they are up against powerful people, they don’t give the impression of being afraid to stand up to them. Why ?

Nantenaina Lova : It has to be said that some of them are educated and know their rights. They are “modern” farmers. They also always try to keep the collective together in the face of everything that comes from the outside, even when some of them end up betraying the cause and working for those on the other side. And that’s what interests me: following such a collective vibe. This collective, and it’s rare, wants to do things the legal way, going to court to make their case, paying lawyers. They’ve spent a lot of time getting association members to pay their dues to cover all the legal costs - which have cost them a fortune. Instead of farming, they spend their time going to court...

Fanny Pigeaud : The question of land raises the question of the place in society of these small farmers who practice family farming, using very simple means of production. What is their place ?

Nantenaina Lova : Some say they don’t bring about “development”. In the meantime, it is they and their family farming that feed the Malagasy people, since they represent 85 % of the population and feed the country to the tune of 75 %. It’s important to point this out, because it’s so easy for us urban experts to denigrate and belittle them. The film clearly shows that they have dreams, projects, that they invest - some sell their cattle to finance work in the fields. It’s a real economy. The fact that they help each other to work in the fields, for example, could be evaluated in terms of investment.

But the dream of the leaders remains to develop modern intensive agriculture, with tractors, banking systems... But that’s the danger, because it takes away all the independence of these farmers. Instead of taking away their land, we should be supporting them so that they can produce healthier, more competitive food.

“‘Development’, ‘progress’, are catchwords”

Fanny Pigeaud : Is this a discourse that can be heard today in Madagascar ?

Nantenaina Lova : When I present my films, I often come across city dwellers who criticize “these peasants and fishermen who are resistant to development, to projects that will bring in money”. But we’ve never assessed what we’re losing with these famous major projects. Take, for example, the project to build a port by the Australian mining company Base Toliara, in Tuléar, opposed by the fishermen I filmed in Aza Kivy - Étoile du matin : no account is taken of the number of jobs that will be destroyed by this port, the damage to the environment, the risks linked to the radioactivity emanating from the ilmenite (titanium-iron oxide mineral) extraction site...

The words “development” and “progress” are used as catchphrases, tossed around unchallenged. We get the impression that these words are used by city dwellers as an oppressive means of silencing others, of pushing through unacceptable things. But everyone has their own definition and their own aspirations. Today, we expect public policies to pay a little more attention to the fate of farmers, rather than imposing “major projects” that turn them into farm workers. We need to sit down around a table and choose what suits everyone. When a project is accepted by the whole community, you can really go a long way.

Fanny Pigeaud : What’s at stake with the land is also how we use it. We understand that Ly uses pesticides, but that his daughter has chosen a different path...

Nantenaina Lova : That’s how Ly was taught to farm. Before, farmers didn’t use these chemicals. But more and more, agents from the Ministry of Agriculture, who work with all sorts of partners selling agricultural inputs, are coming to explain to the farmers that they need to use such and such a product, such and such a seed... Ly’s daughter is a bit like the future from my point of view: she has long been convinced of the importance of organic farming and is gradually raising her father’s awareness. I filmed her a few weeks ago planting rice without using chemicals. The problem is that everyone around her plot uses pesticides. The day she finds healthier ground, she’ll really flourish in what she does.

She sees the direct consequences of chemicals on her family’s health. Ly has been known to get a little sick from spraying pesticides. He himself is aware of the problem. All this brings us back to the subject of the film: the need to question this “modernity” that’s coming our way. Is this appropriate for us ? When we see that some farmers in Europe are trying to bring back the farming methods of yesteryear, it should give us food for thought. But this message doesn’t get across at all in Madagascar.

“People who struggle give me hope”

Fanny Pigeaud : Your latest films focus on social struggles. Why this choice ?

Nantenaina Lova : I like to see people struggling because it gives me hope. But it was psychologically hard to watch all the things that were happening to the farmers of Sitabaomba over the years. It was a bit of a challenge for us to look at it with humor and a minimum of detachment. The filming took as long as it did, seven years, because I was waiting for them to achieve a definitive victory... which didn’t happen. They did, however, win against those who benefited from the fraudulent land titles at first and second instance courts - their opponents will surely go to the Supreme Court. It’s a story that’s not over yet. And all the more so as there are rumors that a motorway is going to pass through there and that there will be a development project to create a place for strolling, and swimming for city dwellers...

So the people of Sitabaomba are not at peace. But I hope that the film will raise awareness among the authorities. At the very least, it will have shown that there was a time when people dared to say loud and clear that they didn’t agree, that they had other proposals than this imposed vertical vision of development.

Fanny Pigeaud : Where does your sensitivity come from ?

Nantenaina Lova : Perhaps it’s the result of my university education, which meant that I was destined to work in development. I did a DUT [University diploma in technology] in social careers, majoring in “development and humanitarian action management”. But I also learned a lot from a more personal experience. At the age of 20, I managed small development projects as part of an association of young people, some of whom were French. We thought we were going to change the world. In particular, we had a small fund to help farmers in the east of the country. What kind of project could we take on ?

We sent an agronomist on site to identify the needs. He came back saying that in this village on the east coast, where it rains all the time, a duck farm would be the most suitable and least restrictive. But the villagers refused, and asked us to buy them two pigs instead, and not just any pigs: “We hang out with Vazaha [white people] like you, we want improved breed vazaha pigs, pink, big !,” they told us. “But you have to respect all kinds of standards to raise this type of pig, get them vaccinated, etc. It’s complicated ! It’s complicated !”, we tried to explain. They wouldn’t listen. So we bought what they asked for, a male and a female.

After a year, we asked if they had managed to have piglets. They replied: “No, no, we fattened them up and ate them on 26 June [national holiday]”. We were terribly disappointed. But the experience made us realise that we weren’t experts in anything. It’s the people themselves who know their situation and needs best. We also realised that there’s a desire to do things the way others do them, and that the appeal of so-called “modernity” is very strong.

The last big lesson we learned was that people invest in social ties. It is the most important thing to them. Having eaten and shared those pigs on June 26 to strengthen their bonds was more important than trying to multiply them. We understood this, Eva, my co-author, and I, when we were in our twenties, and this experience has guided us ever since as we seek to understand how the Malagasy reason.