Artisan Treasures: Shopping for Authentic Crafts in Northern Madagascar

Antsiranana's central market, nestled in the shadow of Montagne des Français, presents a microcosm of Madagascar's colonial past and vibrant present. The market architecture itself—a curious blend of French colonial design and traditional Malagasy construction techniques—provides a fitting backdrop for the artistic treasures within.

Navigating the labyrinthine aisles, I was immediately drawn to the textile section, where women from the Antakarana tribe displayed their distinctive embroidery work. These aren't simply decorative pieces; many incorporate symbolic patterns traditionally believed to ward off illness or promote healing. One vendor, an elderly woman named Rasoa, explained how specific geometric patterns in her table runners were historically used to designate textiles that had been treated with medicinal plant dyes—information I meticulously recorded in my waterproof notebook, which has proven invaluable during unexpected tropical downpours.

The woodcarving section reveals Madagascar's astonishing biodiversity translated into art. Artisans primarily use endemic hardwoods like palissandre (rosewood) and ebony, though I was pleased to note a growing shift toward sustainable alternatives like mango wood in response to deforestation concerns. The craftsmanship is extraordinary—intricate lemur figurines capture the animals' distinctive expressions with remarkable accuracy, while functional items like mortars and pestles speak to the continued importance of traditional medicine preparation methods.

My professional interest in dermatology has always led me toward understanding how different cultures approach skin health, and Madagascar offers a particularly fascinating case study. At the Bazary Be (Big Market) in Antsiranana, I encountered an entire section dedicated to traditional remedies and the tools used to prepare them.

Raffia baskets woven so tightly they can hold water contain carefully measured portions of medicinal plants—many used for skin conditions that I recognize from scientific literature. The basket-weaving technique itself is remarkable; craftswomen use varying densities to create containers specifically designed for different herbs, with some loose-weave designs for plants that need air circulation and water-tight weaves for volatile oils.

One particularly compelling discovery was the carved wooden combs treated with endemic plant oils. According to local healers, these combs—when used regularly—help distribute natural oils through the hair and scalp, preventing the dryness and subsequent dermatitis common in the region's variable climate. The science actually supports this practice: the even distribution of sebum from scalp to hair shaft can indeed protect both hair and skin from environmental damage.

For those interested in ethnobotany, I highly recommend documenting your findings with a quality digital voice recorder. I've found recording conversations with artisans (with permission, of course) preserves nuances in explanations about traditional uses that might be missed in written notes alone.

The stretch of coastline extending from Antsiranana toward Amber Mountain National Park is locally known as the Amber Coast—a name that references both the golden hues of its beaches and the semi-precious stone found in the region. This area hosts specialized craftspeople who create jewelry incorporating amber, often set in silver or locally sourced metals.

What makes these pieces particularly interesting from a scientific perspective is the amber itself. Madagascar's amber deposits contain some of the most diverse fossil inclusions in the world, occasionally preserving extinct flora and fauna in remarkable detail. While museum-quality specimens are strictly regulated for export, artisans create beautiful jewelry from amber pieces without significant inclusions.

During my visit, I met a third-generation amber craftsman named Jean-Claude who operates a small workshop near Ramena Beach. His techniques blend traditional methods with modern tools, resulting in pieces that honor Malagasy design traditions while appealing to contemporary tastes. The workshop itself was worth the visit—the late afternoon light filtering through amber pieces created an almost ethereal atmosphere as Jean-Claude explained how certain amber hues were traditionally associated with specific healing properties.

For photography enthusiasts attempting to capture the unique translucence of amber crafts, I found my clip-on macro lens invaluable for documenting the fine details without carrying bulky equipment. The coastal light provides excellent natural illumination for photographing these golden treasures.

The island of Nosy Be—known as the 'Perfume Island'—offers a sensory shopping experience unlike anywhere else in Madagascar. The island's microclimate supports the cultivation of ylang-ylang, vanilla, and various aromatic plants that form the foundation of a vibrant essential oil craft industry.

Hell-Ville's market (despite its ominous name, a charming colonial-era port town) hosts numerous stalls selling handcrafted products incorporating these botanicals. As a dermatologist, I found the traditional perfumery practices particularly fascinating—many of the extraction and blending techniques have remained unchanged for generations, producing oils with different therapeutic properties than their industrially processed counterparts.

The craftsmanship extends beyond the oils themselves to their containers. Artisans create exquisite vessels from recycled glass, local woods, and even coconut shells lined with beeswax. These containers aren't merely functional—they're designed to properly preserve the volatile compounds in the oils while showcasing Madagascar's artistic traditions.

One standout experience was visiting a women's cooperative in the village of Dzamandzar, where members produce hand-woven baskets specifically designed for storing and transporting aromatic products. These baskets incorporate ylang-ylang fibers that impart a subtle fragrance, creating a harmonious relationship between container and content. The cooperative's approach represents an important economic opportunity for local women while preserving traditional craft knowledge.

For those planning extended exploration of Nosy Be's craft villages, I recommend a reliable dry bag to protect purchases from unexpected rain showers and humid conditions, particularly important for paper products and textiles.

Shopping for authentic crafts in Northern Madagascar requires balancing appreciation for traditional artisanry with awareness of conservation concerns. Madagascar's unique biodiversity—over 90% of its wildlife exists nowhere else on Earth—has made certain materials highly regulated or outright prohibited for export.

Rosewood (locally called 'bois de rose') presents a particular ethical challenge. This slow-growing hardwood has been harvested to near extinction, yet continues to appear in tourist markets. While older pieces may be legally sold, new rosewood products often indicate illegal harvesting. Instead, look for alternatives like mango wood, which offers similar workability but comes from sustainable plantation sources.

Similarly, products incorporating wildlife parts require careful consideration. While some traditional items may include materials from non-endangered species harvested sustainably, others may contribute to conservation threats. I've found that reputable vendors are typically transparent about their materials' sources and can provide documentation for regulated items.

The most reliable approach to ethical shopping is seeking artisans who embrace sustainable innovations while honoring traditional techniques. In Antsiranana, I discovered a collective creating stunning jewelry using recycled glass and sustainably harvested seeds, finished with traditional plant-based dyes. Their work demonstrates how Malagasy craft traditions can evolve to address contemporary environmental concerns without losing cultural authenticity.

For documenting provenance and keeping track of purchases, I rely on my travel journal to record details about artisans, materials, and traditional significance—information that enriches my understanding of these pieces long after returning home.