The race is dominated by former presidents.
If the health of a democracy were measured only by the number of candidates contesting a presidential election, Madagascar’s would be flourishing: a total of 36 were on the island state’s ballot on November 7th. Yet politics in Madagascar, beset by corruption, is far from healthy. Voters hoping for a change from the old elite may be sorely disappointed by the outcome of a race that has been completely dominated by two former presidents.
The most visible contender is Andry Rajoelina, who led a coup in 2009 and ruled until 2014. Morondava, a big city in south-west Madagascar, is a sea of posters and t-shirts emblazoned with Mr Rajoelina’s face and sporting his signature bright orange colours. Lorries blaring out his campaign messages are ubiquitous.
The outcome of the second round is harder to predict. Mr Rajoelina, who is 44 and once worked as a disc jockey, is popular with the young and with women. “I’m going to vote for Rajoelina because he is handsome, cute and young,” says an enthusiastic female voter. But many urbanites deride his madcap schemes, complete with glossy artists’ impressions, to rebuild the country. One proposes making Tamatave, the second-largest city, a new “Miami”.
Mr Ravalomanana may lack some of the appeal of his main rival, not to mention his lavish campaign budget, but he is seen as a safer pair of hands. One voter from Tsimafana, a village north of Morondava plagued by cattle rustlers and illegal deforestation, says he will vote for “Dada” (Mr Ravalomanana’s affectionate nickname) because the country felt safer during his term in office.
Yet few will feel safe until the run-off is over and the count is done. Madagascar has rarely enjoyed a smooth political transition. Many of its people fear that trouble is once again around the corner.
The outcome of the second round is harder to predict. Mr Rajoelina, who is 44 and once worked as a disc jockey, is popular with the young and with women. “I’m going to vote for Rajoelina because he is handsome, cute and young,” says an enthusiastic female voter. But many urbanites deride his madcap schemes, complete with glossy artists’ impressions, to rebuild the country. One proposes making Tamatave, the second-largest city, a new “Miami”.
Mr Ravalomanana may lack some of the appeal of his main rival, not to mention his lavish campaign budget, but he is seen as a safer pair of hands. One voter from Tsimafana, a village north of Morondava plagued by cattle rustlers and illegal deforestation, says he will vote for “Dada” (Mr Ravalomanana’s affectionate nickname) because the country felt safer during his term in office.
Yet few will feel safe until the run-off is over and the count is done. Madagascar has rarely enjoyed a smooth political transition. Many of its people fear that trouble is once again around the corner.
