This daily log mentions Madagascar's roads so much because we spend so much time navigating them. Besides the mud, potholes, and rambling-wreck vehicles, the people themselves contribute to the tortoise pace. (one thing to note about Malagasy, they don't drive dangerously or aggressively). Our taxi brousse, which we shared with at least 12 other people, all crammed into a the back of a mini-van, pulled over many times on our all day journey to cover a mere 200 kilometers. One instance couldn't be helped: a passenger had an epileptic fit and the van pulled over to give him some breathing space. Another time we pulled over and waited for a girl to run to her village (several fields away from the road) to fetch money for the bus fare - she returned empty handed.