...Mme Laza was a delightfully bright-eyed lady in her late forties (knocking at the gnarly portals of old age for a rural Malagasy).
She was the headwoman of a tiny hamlet deep in Madagascar's 'wild west' Bandit country. Even the wispy goatee that curled in a few long hairs from the tip of her chin seemed to sprout forth as a testament to her easygoing attitude. Chattering and laughing all the while she fixed us a meal of rice, cold shredded beef (with congealed lumps of something that I took to be stomach) and bitter cassava leaves. The beef tasted dubiously high and I was pleased when Eloi told me that this was the usual flavour of wild cattle meat.