It was going to be a quiet day in Madagascar. People were supposed to vote in a referendum that would legitimise the rule of its controversial president, Andry Rajoelina. With opposition leaders in jail and the former presidents in exile, nobody expected any trouble.

By Annelie Rozeboom

So here I am, on my balcony, enjoying a novel and watching the orchids grow, when I receive a phone call from Holland. My editor asks me how things are. “Fine, quiet,” I answer.

In the morning we drove around the capital Antananarivo and there was hardly anyone on the road. The government had declared referendum day a national holiday and the sale of liquor was banned. Without traffic and drunks, the city seemed empty.

Popularity poll
The three main opposition movements encouraged people to boycott the referendum, so the turnout would say more about Mr Rajoelina’s popularity than the result itself.

Nobody really doubted the outcome of the referendum: the minimum age of the president would be brought back to 35 years, to accommodate Mr Rajoelina, who is 36. And the leader of the transition would be able to stay in power until the next election, whenever that might be.

Another coup
But now the editor tells me there has been another coup. Colonel Charles Andrianasoavina, who helped Andry Rajoelina come to power more than a year ago, has declared that he is taking over. Not by means of guns, apparently, but with a war of words.

From his barrack next to the airport, he has been making statements to Reuters. The press agency sent his message all around the world, but so far, this has escaped the people of Madagascar.

The radio, normally the lifeline of information here, is still broadcasting live reports from the polling stations. I start to call people who have connections to the army. They don’t know what I’m talking about either.

Off the hook
But in Holland everyone has rediscovered Madagascar. Since I’m the only Dutch journalist on the island, the phones are ringing off the hook. My daughter complains about having to pick up the phone all the time. “What if those people put me live on air?”

It’s not until a few hours later that the news of something happening at the airport is discussed locally. And then Ma-TV, an independent TV station, boldly broadcasts part of the statement of the colonel, followed by a declaration of Mr Rajoelina himself.

Murder threat
The president, flanked by some generals who are still on his side, says that a small group of mutineers have threatened to kill him, but that he will teach them a lesson soon. The colonel, on the other hand, plans to close the airport and attack the presidential palace tomorrow.

While most people in Antananarivo see this exchange of plans as a reason to stay inside, some opposition supporters flock to the barrack near the airport. There they put up a pitiful barrage of burning car tires, in order to prevent attacks on these military leaders.

Wash my hair
Considering they’re planning to take over the country tonight, one would think the generals were able to

take care of themselves. Later at night, the first rumours of shooting in front of the presidential palace are called in, and I go to wash my hair.

Just in case all this talk amounts to nothing and I have to go to work tomorrow. In a country like Madagascar, where talking is a traditional art, you have to be prepared for every eventuality.