At the end of a day full of misunderstandings, when the taxi brousse left at 1, rather than 10 in the morning, and we ended up in St. Augustin rather than in Sarodrano, all that really isn’t a problem at all. We met Marcel, who is our friend now, in the way that people, especially those earning their living in tourism, become your friends within half an hour here. He takes us to the village cinema: A tiny enclosure with a reed fence. A black-and-white TV on a chair displays some martial arts film, the loud speaker on the chair next to it emits squeaking sounds. About 20 people sit on wooden benches or on the dirt as we sneak in. After a few minutes, I lift my head and prefer the spectacle of a million-stars-sky to that on the screen.