We were at the beach for an hour or so when a huge congregation of Malagasy people started to form about 300+ yards to the right of us. We figured it was just another thing that Malagasy people can create a good crowd for: a card game, a group of vazaha or something as equally unfascinating. We dismissed it and went back to swimming or chatting.
But the crowd kept getting larger and now all the people in this crowd were clearly looking out into the water. One of the girls in our group became compelled by curiosity and went to see what all the commotion was about. She came back a few minutes later with a much faster pace and stopped to tell some of our friends (who were still a distance away from me) what she saw. I figured they had seen a whale or something and she was rushing back to get our attention so we wouldn't miss it. I waved to them to find out what was going on but too lazy to get up. The group of PCVs broke up-most of them running towards the crowd themselves but one came to tell me and another guy that a Malagasy kid had drown and they were looking for his body.
At first, I was shocked and felt awful but thinking back now I dont think the gravity of the situation had really sunk in. I got up and ran over thinking maybe this kid wasn't actually dead - maybe he's just in trouble and we can get him out. As the water was washing up on the shore, the 7 of us tried to get more information. I asked one man what happened and he said a kid was dead in the water. I asked if he could swim but he said no. I asked if my friends and I could go in and look for him.
Foreigners are always seen as foreigners here so I didn't want to do anything that was going to piss a huge crowd of Malagasy people off (some french men were burned alive in a huge altercation/misunderstanding in Nosy Be last year).
Nevertheless, he said I could look. The girls stayed on the beach scanning the ocean while me and three other guys went into the ocean to find this kid.
The ocean in Manakara is no joke. It is always rough, there is always a huge undertow, relatively large waves and sometimes an unforgiving rip tide that, as a strong swimmer, kicked my ass. Most Malagasy people do not and can not swim. They are not afraid or ashamed to tell you they are terrified of the ocean. I'm assuming this kid was no different. He was probably playing by the shore, wandered to his knees and before he knew it was swept out into the actual ocean battling waves twice his size.
Within a few minutes of entering the water, the crowd roared and we could easily see what they were roaring about. About 10 feet from my friend and 15 feet from me was some body part of this kid rolling back out into the ocean after being swallowed up and battered by yet another wave. We both started half running, half swimming as hard as we could. I talked to my friend afterward and we both admitted that our hearts felt like they were going to beat out of our chests in anxiety because we were about to pull a dead person from the water. We didn't make it. Another wave came down and he was lost in the whitewash. We both started frantically scouring the water around us, but saw nothing. I didn't have to ask him but his face showed it all and I didn't have to tell him how I felt. We couldn't believe we missed him. We were so close.
Our disappointment and anxiety increased exponentially over the next 30 minutes or so as we looked but found nothing. We had to get out of the water and look from the shore because we were just getting constantly pounded by waves leaving us only a few seconds to search before having to duck the next one. I have had some incredibly deflating moments in this country and this was definitely one of, if not the worst. During that half hour I didn't know what to do-if we should stop or keep looking. I thought about professional search and rescue teams and how hopeless those guys must feel sometimes and what the families of those who are lost must feel. It's indescribable.
After this long while, another scream came from the spot on the beach where we originally had our towels and bikes 300+ yards back down the beach. We all bolted down the sand, quickly asked where they saw him and jumped in. Within seconds I saw a hand about 25 feet in front of me and my heart started racing again. The problem was we had 3 waves and a strong current to get by. One of the waves came over and absolutely wrecked all four of us guys. It was another 6-7 seconds before I was back on my feet. By the time I got my bearings I could not see this kid. I couldn't believe it. We missed our chance again.
What happened next seems incredible to think about, but one of my friends let out a small grunt and then yelled, "holy shit. I've got him. He hit my leg." We all came swimming over, grabbed a limb from under the water and hoisted him up. We had to fight a few waves to get him in but it felt like only seconds to the shore. Malagasy people quickly took him from all of us, but we tried to stay with him, especially the one of us who knows CPR. It was no use. The strength of the mob spit us out like the vazaha we are and at that point I yelled to everyone to just stay back to make sure whatever we did or were trying to do for the kid wasn't misconstrued for something else. We all wanted to do something but we all new as we brought in his limp, unresponsive body that he was probably well past saving. So we stood on the outside of the circle as they picked him up upside down by the ankles and pushed on his stomach - we can only assume in effort to push out all the sea water that he had ingested in however long he was stuck out there. Most of us couldn't watch anymore. Any chance that kid may have had (if he wasn't already dead) was lost in the seconds they wasted not letting us try CPR or bringing him directly to the hospital. We despondently walked back to our towels in complete shock by what had just happened-several Malagasy people trying to shake our hands along the way to say thank you.
In hindsight, we did do a great thing - we brought a young kid (his lifeless face looked like that of a teenager) out of the ocean giving his family the opportunity to bury him. It is especially important considering the dead are a really big part of Malagasy culture. You would not have convinced any of us of this at the time.
I don't believe in fate so I guess I would say its a great coincidence that the 7 of us were there to do something about what was happening. I had never seen a dead person before and I hope I never have to seen one again.
The ocean in Manakara on a nice, calm day. This is when I first arrived in the south east about 2 years ago.
