The SA Airlink plane had just entered Madagascan airspace when an air marshal in a neon-yellow vest emerged from the cockpit to give the passenger in seat 1F the bad news.

Marc Ravalomanana, the milkman-turned-millionaire who rose from obscurity to become president of Madagascar, only to be booted from power three years ago, would not be returning from exile in South Africa as planned.

As the small Avro RJ85 started banking in what felt unmistakably like a U-turn, snippets of the security officer's conversation with the overthrown president drifted toward the back of the plane.

The words "turn around" were clearly discernible, sending a crush of aides, journalists and curious fellow-passengers cramming into the aisle of the SA Airlink commercial flight to find out what was happening -- in plain violation of the illuminated fasten seatbelt sign.

Amid the fray came a message from the cockpit.

"Ladies and gentlemen, from the flight deck, we have turned around. We've just received word the airport's going to be closed for the next five to six hours, and unfortunately due to a limited fuel supply we don't have the luxury of time, so I've now had to turn back to Johannesburg," said the captain.

"I apologise for the inconvenience this has caused you."

What had started as a joyful homecoming, with Ravalomanana kissing his wife as the plane taxied from the terminal, descended into a heated discussion between the ex-president's aides and the SA Airlink security officer.

The aides accused the airline of caving to pressure from Ravalomanana's arch-rival and replacement, Andry Rajoelina, to abort the former leader's politically charged return.

The air marshal insisted SA Airlink, a regional shuttle carrier affiliated with South African Airways, had done nothing of the sort.

"We intended to land in Antananarivo. We did not receive any NOTAM (Notice to Airmen) indicating otherwise," the official said.

"Why is the man being denied rights to his own people, to his own home country?" demanded an outraged adviser.

"How can they be so afraid of one plane to close all the airports in the country?" asked Ravalomanana spokesman Mutumwa Mawere.

As the two-hour return trip dragged on, nerves began to calm.

A man in row four sighed that he would not be able to see his family that night. A passenger in row three placidly ate his lunch and sipped his red wine. A member of Ravalomanana's public relations team went back to reading his novel.

Four hours after take-off, the plane touched down back where it had started.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Johannesburg OR Tambo International Airport," said the flight attendant.