Madagascar is a wonderful, tumbledown Indian Ocean island where people laugh at hardship. The laughter is quieter in the highlands than on the coast, especially in the north, where it seems as natural as the days and nights of equal length the trade winds that blow off the ocean. The people of northern Madagascar are aware of their land's individually. The tip of the island is remote yet privileged. The temperature averages a balmy 77°F, freshwater is plentiful and anything grows in the fertile soil. But the Tsaratanana mountain range, which cuts the north off from the rest of the country, can be crossed only during the dry season, and the population has mistrusted the central government and the long-dominant highland ethnic groups for ages. With the Indian Ocean on one side and the Mozambique channel on the other, the north is open to the world. The cosmopolitan population includes Afro-Malays, Arabs, Comorians, Creoles, Indians, Pakistanis and Chinese - a human brew that fosters a bemused skepticism. 

The harbor of Diego-Suarez, named after two Portuguese explorers who "discovered" Madagascar, is on the island's northeastern end. Shaped like a four-leaf clover, the 300 square-foot natural body of water is lined with beaches, mangroves and cliffs. It is considered one of the world's most beautiful harbors. Merchants, traffickers and buccaneers from around the world have found refuge in Diego. 

A century before the French Revolution, a ragtag handful of pirates lorded by a Provencal gentleman and a defrocked Italian monk - Mission and Caracole - founded a multi-national, multi-racial, egalitarian republic, out of reach of the world's powers. Libertarian, as they called it, had a constitution, a parliament and a freely elected president. The adventure quickly ran a ground, but the dream is still alive. An account in Daniel Depoe’s General History of the Most Famous Pirates is the odysseys only written trace. Mission and Caracole recognized that Diego was strategically located and easy to defend. They were also aware of Madagascar's potential wealth. The French came to the same conclusion when they showed up uninvited two centuries later. The colonizers cleared the land for export crops, prospected for minerals and fortified the natural harbor at Diego. Diego is primarily a port. The city itself, a chaotic outgrowth of the harbor, is in dire need of planning. Turn-of-the century postcards show an eclectic mix of beautiful Indian mansions and, already, jumbled, ramshackle shanties made of wood and two Foreign Legion regiments. There was a ball every night, beer flowed like water, CFA francs were plentiful and men in French uniform were everywhere.

Eventually, the contrast with the indigenous islanders' poverty reached the breaking point. In 1972, student riots toppled the pro-French Tsiranana regime. Three years later, young nationalists seized power, bent on ending neo-colonialism and turning Madagascar into a Socialist-leaning republic with a third-world outlook.