My epic bus journey through central Madagascar

The journey (Fianar, Toliara – Fort Dauphin), Madagascar style – 1300km by road

One chapter in my Madagascar adventures (and indeed my life) is closed. I’ve left the fragments of eastern lowland rainforest around Kianjavato and am heading south. I will still be east - in the humid rainfall zone but the substrate and thus wildlife will be very different. The incredible diversity of this land is part of what makes Madagascar so interesting and unique on both a cultural and environmental perspective. 

Kianjavato, the town i was leaving behind

The journey I describe below took 4 days, for some of it I was asleep, staring wondrously out of the window or at times clinging on for dear life!  I have eluded to the haphazard nature of Malagasy public transport in my previous posts. The infrastructure here is so bad here that livelihood opportunities can depend heavily on whether there is a road somewhere near your village. People walk weeks with their produce to make a living all across the country The road in which I travelled south from Toliara takes 3 – 4 times longer in the wet season, yet it is one of 2 main routes for all imports to this huge area.

heavy load? 

It was such a crazy journey I thought I’d tell the story of my 2000km journey by road, in the deep Madagascan countryside.

13/07/15

It was a hopeful beginning; my new host had booked the journey, ticket paid for, what could go wrong? All is never quite that simple here! My bus was coming from the capital city and picking me up on its way through Fianar, a small city where I was comfortably recuperating. To make matters a little tricky  i had my only debit card swallowed by an ATM. Spending the previous 7 months in the jungle, i had no recollection of what my pin code was! So catching this bus was a big deal and my way to salvation as it only comes every 3-5 days.

On this day I was awaiting a phone call telling me what time the bus would be picking me up. With the help of a lovely receptionist i learned the bus would be passing through sometime between 4 – 8am, and I was to await yet another call when the bus was close to town! This is so typical of Madagascan public transport and unless you go private you have to prepare for things to take longer than planned! Erring on caution I went to bed early. 

14/07 

Deep in my slumber at 3.00am I’m woken by the drivers call. I can’t hear anything except the sound system (no bus is complete without music capabilities, even if the brakes don’t work)! I sleepily rush my ass to the station with my entire belongings and wait, hapless in the dark at 3.20 am. There is no sign of my bus. Feeling a little uneasy with the situation i was approached by a group of men asking wha i was doing here at this time of night! In a mirage of 3 different languages I was informed that the bus doesn’t pass here! I put my trust in the most capable english speaker and get in his taxi. Im told the pick up point is 5km out of town and off I go blindly into the night in hope of catching this damn bus 

We get to a petrol station where he asks for money, no fuel, no journey, these guys live hand to mouth. I oblige we then turn around and drive 10 minutes into the pitch black countryside. Still no sign of a bus, i am a little worried by now but ive never bee wronged by these people and take deep breaths. To my great relief the bus driver answers his phone and has a lengthy conversation taxi man, it turns out the guy is “25km” down the road! So for quite a high price he agrees to take me there, I spend nearly everything i have but what can I do? '5km' down the road and a big sigh of relief there’s my damn bus! The number plate and make of vehicle are different from stated-but  nevertheless I chuck my luggage on board, pay the taxi man less than quoted  and on our way we go (Its only around £6 but its more than he earns in a week or 2. 

Actually its quite a nice bus, im very happy, shit ill actually be able to get some sleep! The guys next to me are cool, chatty, the women next to me is uninterested, the bus goes at a considerable speed. Bingo I’m on my way to Fort Dauphin, or am I?

the scenic route!

After some French/English/Malagasy conversation with my 2 seat buddies I found out that I was in fact on route to Toliara, which is south but 500km on the other side of the fucking country! A slight feeling of dread did rise through my body, was this in fact the wrong bus? The guys said I would go onwards from Tulear so there was nothing more to do than settle down and have a kip. At some point in the hazy morning there was a large bang and the bus shuddered to a holt! Turns out one of the front wheels had almost fallen off! I took the time to take a few snaps of the Madagascar savannah. 

The big bang!

time to take in the wild country

I’m not sure what time I arrived in Toliara, it was dark and we’d been on the road for 16 hours. I was told to wait in the station office, soon my luggage was brought to me and I was told the bus was ‘broken’ and we would be leaving in the morning. I was escorted to a posh hotel as the white guy but i had barely £10 on me. So I went to a drearily trounced to a basic place, ate some street food and collapsed into bed. 

I awoke feeling excited to be in a new place and anxious on what awaited me and I was not prepared for the vehicle presented for the onward journey!

At first I flat refused to get on the bus - no fucking way i said! The seats were wooden, there are no sides, and it was packed to the hilt (or so I thought)! After a lot of waiting around the station and demanding to know what was going on some guy who was somehow responsible for me finally told me that this vehicle was the only way I could get to my destination. Aghast,  I was resigned to my fate.

what a special vehicle and it was not fully stocked! 

plenty of room for all!

I was presented my seat before boarding, half a place at the back, underneath a steel plaited speaker box. Ok well at least ill be able to stretch my legs, wrong! Partly my problem was that I was on the outer edge of a seat - where the gap for the passage way should be. Instead they balanced a piece of wood between the 2 benches and sat 2 people their! On the inside of me, one leg was jammed under a rice sack and the other one was jigging for position under my seat! Man was i uncomfortable and very irritable by this point, but the Malagasy people smiled at me, made jokes and laughed which lightened the mood considerably. They crammed around 125 people on this thing, 8 to a row, incredible! The last to be boarded on the roof were several goats and chickens! And so rammed in by shoulder to chest,we began literally to bump our way out of town. 

Before long, when we were reaching decent speeds along the highway, I was clinging on for dear life with all I had! Regularly my body (along with everyone else's) was flung violently into the air as the wagon bumped in to and out of large holes at speed. I had to lean my head forward so not to split my skull open on the blaring speaker frame, try not to land on someone else on swift return and make sure I didn’t bend too far forward and crack my forehead open on the steel seat handles! Needless to say, no I didn’t get much sleep and no I did not enjoy the ride!

I took some rest whenever i could when we stopped at the larger towns, most people were buying snacks through the ‘window’, I hopped out to try too stand up straight for 5 minutes! There were occasional longer stop where one could eat for 15 mins or so. I spent most of this time searching for a 'toilet' as i did indeed have diarrhoea from last nights meal. This added another unpleasant element to my journey and the search for a toilet is a story all of itself!

Well I really don’t know how long until we came to our first stop over but it was a very long time! I was out of it, had barely enough money for food and a place to stay but was looking forward to any kind of bed. I wearily ate some weird chicken while these Malagasy teenagers asked me questions and tucked into a strange looking sausage. I payed less than 50p for the half eaten meal and retired to my luxury £1 a night room. On the way to my hostel some 'ladies of the night' did befriend me and follow me. After fighting to get into my room without them I fell into a deep sleep for the next 12 hours.

The Ravenela palm, dotting the landscape through my entire journey

I awoke at 6 the next morning feeling rather unwell. I had to short change the hostel lady around 5p as somehow id lost a note, she was annoyed at first then smiled and sent me on my way. What warm and generous people they are. With no money for breakfast I sneaked on to the wagon and claimed a different seat at the front. The Wagon was then loaded up with more rice sacks and other random produce and we were underway although,  this time I could enjoy the journey. 

We drove though the spiny forest, I had to arch my neck to get a decent view but boy was it worth it. I never imagined it would be quite that beautiful, like a different planet – or more accurately, the only one of its kind on the planet. This cheered me up, the bumps were less harsh at the front and there was just 2 of us on one seat! We stopped variously and my marvellous diarrhoea adventures continued. This was not easy, I had to judge that the wagon would stop for long enough, guess if this particular place alone the dirt road highway had any form of facility, and find where that might just be. Each time I was assisted by villagers who escorted me there, each time it was a squat toilet (more than I had hoped) and usually children had missed the whole and left little packages to tip toe between. But hey I was just happy not to shit myself each time we went over a bump! At some point in the evening we rolled into town and id made it to Fort Dauphin in one piece.

The unique spiny forest

Just as i was not prepared for the crazy journey, neither was i aware just how fantastically beautiful Fort Dauphin and the southern eastern litoral rainforests were. I write about my experience here on another blog.

Sainte Luce coastline

Taking respite from New Delhi air in Swechha’s Airshed Park project

Taking reprieve from New Delhi in Swechha’s Airshed Park project

Standing among sub tropical and desert plants, watching bees feed on cactus flowers and butterflies dancing their rituals, i'm truly amazed how life can flourish so poignantly amongst the smog and bustle of a capital city.

me and the designer discussing park ecology in the 'dessert garden'

Just 3 months into their new Airshed Development project; Swechha have transformed a neglected rubbish heap of a park into a real community resource; where kids explore and adults sit among Delhi’s native flora.  

As I stepped into the park for the first time my immediate reaction was one of relief; being able to take deep breaths of fresh clean air; filtered by the myriad of lush green plant life the tiny park possesses. If you have been to Delhi in winter at the crop burning time of year you will know how rare it is to enjoy fresh air outside of closed walls.

Airshed Park

Delhi hosts an impressive array of parks, and is already a very green city, such is the respect Indians have for the humble tree. But its many dilapidated green spaces add to the mire of a highly polluted environment which takes the population ill with coughs and respiratory infections. This set of unfavourable conditions are not rare in the mega cities of the southern hemisphere. It seems we haven’t learnt much since the year of the ‘big smoke’’ , where 12,000 people died as a result. In 2018 WHO reported that 7 million people worldwide die annually from exposure to fine particles in polluted air.

'green' Dehli view from a central train station

A typical neglected park in New Delhi

Swechha wants to create an airshed of green spaces that will protect the roughly 30 million people that live and work here. That alone is worth supporting the project. Further more, these disused green spaces have multiple uses, not least a safe and usable areas for Delhi's destitute poor. Swechha is embedded into the community, its work force are relatable and passionate about the vibrance of Dehli and the social green movement flushing across India's middle class.

At main the first small park will provide residents:

• a clean and natural outside area
• a decent walking/jogging circuit
• nature views and wildlife walk
• butterfly garden and small woodland
• medicinal plants for free use
• fruit trees and a vegetable patch for local community use
• children's play area and a small sport pitch
• a group meeting area
• a tree and shrub nursery with access to water

The last bit of cleaning in the Airshed Park (~ 40 truck loads were loaded out by hand)

This project is in its infancy and so far struggling to sustain itself. As with most small grassroots social / environmental organisations money is very sparse. Government or private help is minimal and hard to garner. So The Airshed  Development Project will have to put in place a commercial element to first support this park and hopefully extend this model by garnering attention and partnership along the way.

A small team of dedicated employees, interns and volunteers are charged with making this project sustainable. Green the map Is Swechha's attempt to use Dehli's rubbish to fund environmental improvements across the city, with its Remakery and ethical spin at selling you green.
Hopefully, with your support (and only with the support of the wider community) this vision will become a reality.

Airshed Park kids play area and resident friendly dogs

Photos: Shyam Mohan

Writing: Lazer Woolf

An afternoon exploring the enchanting city of Antananarivo, Madagascar.

I am staying in an off the beaten track part of town called Manakambahiny (i can actually say this now!). The ‘street’ is off of a main road and is on very steep decline. It is is also extremely narrow which makes for many a congested situation for the ensuing traffic slash pedestrians. The slope also makes for a rather turgid river when ever it rains, flip flip flops of course are suitable foot where! Various mud and poorly constructed concrete houses line the street, with a spattering of local shops shops selling rice, fruit and veg. Every time I walk down it I am of great interest to all the locals whom smile and stare enthusiastically. In my week here have come to very much enjoy this little suburb. Unfortunately I haven't  taken photos  as im too embarrassed to take out my camera in front of these friendly and humble people.

 In order to get into town one must take a bus, there are a few that run along the main road but only one the takes me into the centre. This story starts off with my bus adventure and then my jaunt about town.

comfort isn't a priority in the national public transport!

Right from the off, getting into a Malagasy public bus (aka. - taxi brousse) is a great experience, especially on your own for the first time! These things are tiny, like little mini vans, some are bigger, like large transit vans in the UK, but these seem much fewer. The small ones can seat about 15 people comfortably(ish!), but I am told that 30 people can cram into one of these things! There is a bus conductor whom helped me on board and took my money. The poor guy rarely gets to sit down at all and is often bent in awkward positions to allow as many people on the bus as possible. These vehicles are the public transport for all of Madagascar no matter how long or far you travel. That I think is enough to put many a tourist off. Luckily my bus was not that full this day, it was 1pm on a sunny Sunday afternoon. I was ushered to the back and squeezed into half a seat space which was duly made larger by the other occupants – clearly used to the whole operation. I got many smiles and some giggles as the ‘vazaha’ (foreigner) that didn’t know what he was doing!

The mighty taxi brousse, the public transport, typical in the whole country

I had only made one trip into town before with the other volunteers and was a little trepidatious not to overrun my stop. Anxiously and excited I stared out the open window at the sprawling capital city of Madagascar. The brousse's don’t go very fast (partly because of large holes in the ground) and I eventually recognised some landmarks. First the zoo, then the football stadium and even some rare bits of dirty and littered grassy areas, adorned by the homeless massive cowering in the tree shade of the mid day sun. I arrived in the centre of town at the market kiosks, which are pretty unmistakeable. I squeezed my way back out of the vehicle and was very thankful to have arrived in the right place. The whole journey cost 400 Ariary, which is about 10 pence, what a bargain!

A tiny fragment of the market from above

So feeling good I was free to wonder around town. The bus stopped at the bottom of the market, which is a cluster of wooden huts that forms a small shanty town effect impenetrable to the eye and protected from the sun and rain by plastic tarps. I dive in and wiggle my way up and down the thin paths that separate each stall. It is split up in sections of food, electronics, clothing. I don’t find what i'm looking for here and begin feeling a bit claustrophobic. I meander on further to be confronted by the meat section, raw meat being sold under searing heat aloft table tops showered with flies. No thanks, this is rank, I don't want to breathe! I dart through a gap in the stalls to escape and begin walking down the centre of main street. It's lined with little tables and blankets full of pretty much everything you can think of .  Ive never seen anything like it, I'm fascinated at every turn.

no explanation required!

A tasty selection!

Dried fish, looks good, smells rank!

Fresh meat and veg

I have to take back my previous and first impressions of Tana (of which I have written about in this blog). It is actually quite a striking city (as you can see from the photos I hope), far from any conventional form I have ever seen. However, being a Sunday makes for a far less clustered and congested place so I really was able to appreciate all its quirks and beauties. Its such a shame that the chaos of a normal working week spoils it so much.

view from the beginning of the market, Antananarivo.

From what I see, Tana is situated at the base of a large flat valley, all around are hills and small mountains. The hills are covered in colourful buildings, none of which seem to have any real monotony about them. This sort of random layout certainly adds to its character considerably. The streets meander quite abruptly upwards from the centre and along the valley floor. I found myself wondering through bustling market areas, ambling curiously through hang out areas where men are playing gambling games Past street food stalls, some where locals and workers gather and others more for the passer by, I was reluctant to try. 

playful kids in the market

some form of gambling game

At any point there are random piles of rancid rubbish and you are sure to see homeless people sitting everywhere on the street. Again, none of it seems to have that much structure about it as you can be wondering up what looks like a posh street with security guards protecting cash machines; and then come across an area where homeless people are sleeping and there are skips full of stinking rubbish, rounding a corner to find posh jewellery shops and hotels.

One of the many streets winding its way down to the centre of town

It’s really quite hard to put into words that describe this place (I'm sure you’ve gathered!). Anyway at this point I'm really hungry, all I've had to eat are a few tasty bananas and plums. Its approaching 2.30 pm and I wonder up some of the posher streets looking to find some non traditional restaurants. I dodge a few young kids that have come running across the road to me and beg for money. Nothing appears to be open on Sunday and I wonder why someone hadn’t told me! 

These jars pack a punch at less than £1

All the towns people seem to be congregated around certain buildings which I take are churches. They are dressed in their Sunday best. Im a little too hungry to care much and wonder on. I turn into a familiar looking street and realise that I've become acquainted with this city rather quicker than I ever would have thought. I come across a restaurant called ‘The Carnivore’, its seriously westernised and not the sort of place I usually frequent. This place is pricey, but real nice with a great view of the city out of the window. I go for the cheapest meal of fried chicken, rice and salad. I pay a rather out of my budget 6 pound and get a free coffee!!

view from The Carnivore, Antananarivo

Now I'm feeling better its off to the market again, strolling back down the hill admiring the view on the way down. I pass many people lying on the street, some selling a little fruit and veg, some selling hand made trinkets, others just begging. I reach the market again and begin meandering through trying to locate the electronics section, I'm after a cheap mobile phone. I see lots of them, but I'm too embarrassed to approach anyone, I hardly speak the language and I'll probably get way over quoted. I smile at people, they look at me curiously and I move on.

I am then accosted by 2 young girls, they appear to be selling bags of the bag for life kind. This one particular, clean and less scruffily looking girl wont leave me alone and asks me where I'm from and what’s my name, how old am I etc. I speak to her a little and smile at her whilst trying to give them a wide birth. She persists to follow me and says that I'm good at French for someone who doesn’t speak it!

I decide to buy some vegetables from a particular stall. The lady tells me that 1 onion is 1000 ariary (25 pence) and I reckon its too high, I ask my new Malagasy friend if this is so and she says yes, not helping me at all! The market lady then smiles at me as I give her the money and gives me another onion! Meanwhile this girl (accompanied by her rather scruffy looking friend of the same age) keeps on at me about money so I tell them firmly no and they scurry off disappointed.

I wonder further into the market under the mid day sun, not feeling so great (I have for sure caught something although it does not seem to be too bad). I buy garlic, ginger an aubergine and a few green peppers.

2 beautiful girls in a side street market

I buy some water and am accosted by 2 very young kids, I ask them if they want some water, the little girl holds up a paper MacDonald’s cup and I fill it.. They both drink eagerly, smile at me and scamper off. I sit down in a shady spot to look over the market and take a rest. Within a few minutes I'm surrounded by kids looking ponderously at me, we exchange limited French at lots of smiles.

Now I'm looking to make haste for home and have given up buying my mobile phone! I wait at the bus stop but I'm accosted again by the same 2 kids I gave water to. I buy them some fruit, they are pushy but very thankful. After some meaningless conversations with some of the bus conductors I give in and get in a taxi home.  What a wondrous day I had just flitting around the market, Antananaivo is a very interesting city.

Seductive notes from Fianar

I am in Fianar, a small city in the central south of the Country. I have come here to send off data which Me and the volunteers (the team) have collated over the past 2 weeks. I found myself with a snippet of time and enough creativity to write a little of what I saw.

My team have just had lunch in a hotel and are just about to head to the bus station and await our departure. I am sitting on the steps adjacent to the street waiting for the others to finish. It seems like a normal part of town here and i enjoy watching people walking up and down the street. 

Its Sunday and people are walking back from church. I find it fascinating the different mix of folk walking by me. I dislike the traditional Christian dress and demeanour, it really invokes weird and negative emotions in me, from what i understand of missionaries and colonialism in Africa.  But despite this I like the peaceful Sunday vibe. As I sit on the step watching I notice a Malagasy shop owner observing me with equal fascination.

2 mango selling sisters catch my intrigue and I bashfully watch with fascination. They swanker up the road each carrying around 5kg of mangoes in a basket, balancing on there head, hands free. They walk with a pertinent pride, their clothes no more than rags, their postures straight and their faces stout. A family group of church owners stop them to buy some mangoes. I over hear that each one costs around 10 pence each, I'm tempted to buy one. I observe the older of the girls and watch the way she skilfully lifts the basket off her head and exchanges the money. I silently appreciate her muscular, voluptuous and feminine form. She casually lifts the basket back on to her head, then takes a few steps towards me and offers me to buy some Mangoes. I sheepishly reply 'no merci', she looks at me with a wry and curious smile knowing full well that I was not really interested in her basket of Mangoes! I hope that she understands / feels my appreciation for her as she seductively walks away.

Tropical reforestation, a volunteer perspctive, Madagascar

Welcome interested people! This post describes my experiences and explains how The MBP project practises reforestation in Kianjavato, Madagascar. If you find this kinda awesome, maybe you should volunteer and have a ago yourself!

This is only a brief summary of some of the main practical elements to planting trees, it in no way reflects the amount of good will and co-operation both from volunteers and especially the Malagasy community.

me and the staff from the largest resident tree nursery (they have a wiked sense of humour!)

My 7 month experience working for this NGO was very positive and life enhancing. I had a fantastic time, learnt lots about life, and myself and got really fit. It took place in a small collection of hamlets surrounded by disturbed forest distributed along a well paved highway in Kianjavato. The rolling hills, which characterise the tropical terrain here, are scattered with several bamboo species and 2 extravagant species of palm. Settlements, shaggy ferns, grass, cassava, or dry rice constitute the majority of space in between 2 small fragments of forest which are the target for the project. Rice paddies swell in between the slopes and lemurs bound in the remaining forest. A small NGO runs a conservation project to research lemurs and hopefully connect the 2 forest fragments.

In the distance you can see the forest which surrounds the mountain. This is the largest patch of forest for 200 miles.

The second, smaller fragment of intact forest.

My job is to help plant trees for the project in the surrounding area. Local land owners allow this to happen because their land in no longer productive enough to grow crops on. There are 2 - 5  volunteers on the reforestation team at any one time. Our main job is to overlook 6 tree nurseries, keep them stocked and guide the planting of 200,000 trees a year.

There are 2 contracted Malagasy nursery staff and 5 women in each nursery who do most of the practical nursery work. A huge team of other Malagasy men and women help us make all other aspects of getting the trees in the ground happen. 

worked closely with this awesome guy, Lamela

seeds, we need s lots of them, these are either collected from the forest (seasonally), collected from roadside and private land or bought from large national suppliers.

The seeds we collect from the forest are slow growing and hardwoods. This is what the climax community of the natural forest is mainly structured from. They only grow in specific conditions, preferring shade.

Many forest species ready for packing and planting

Pioneer species grow very quickly in disturbed and open areas. In 5 years a pioneer tree can reach 8 metres in height and a considerable circumference 50 dbh (cm2) - that’s crazy in temperate terms. We plant about 5 different exotic pioneer species, such as Acacia. All are nitrogen fixing to help improve the soil. Once there is a canopy, the shade environment will be favourable for those slower native forest species to grow.

Preperation and storage of the seeds is important, the latter being difficult with basic facilities. Rats, insects, fungi and bacteria continually eat our stored seed. Before sowing the seeds are soaked (in hot/cold water) or scarified to speed up germination. Scarifying means opening up the seed a little so that the sprout (cotyledon) can easily come out.

Some seeds are tiny and numerous with thin protective layers, these don’t need to be scarified. They are generally pioneer species. Bigger seeds often have a very hard coating (forest species), such like a walnut (containing ample protein inside). These can take months to germinate so careful preparation is required. 

digging tree roots out of our germination box

Germination chambers (about 30cm deep) with a mix of compost and local sand (from the side of a river) is the medium of growth. Once the first true leaves have grown (after the cotyledons) the seedlings are ready to be transplanted in to plastic pots.

Once transplanted seedlings require a different medium made from compost sand and red soil, to harden them up.  We transplant them all into small plastic pots.

The second critical material is Compost, ours comes from what are basically community waste piles. Some projects use top soil but that means stripping land of its fertile resource and it is not abundant. Organising compost production has taken, and continues to necessitate, lots of hard work and organisation. The fact we have enough to supply all 6 nurseries is a fantastic success of this project.

Unfortunately the compost comes full of plastic, metal, batteries glass and non-decomposed wood bits. The rubbish is separated from the organic material and then we have our germination and potting medium. Unfortunately the rubbish is all dumped at the side of a road or down a gutter. There is no government system for any kind of waste disposal. 

a typical steep and bare planting site

Planting happens after seedlings have been growing in pots from anything from 3 weeks to 3 months. The team estimates how many seedlings are ready from each of the 6 nurseries so we can plan logistics of the planting event. This happens a week in advance:

-         We hire men to dig holes

-         Each is filled with a compost mix 

-         More men are hired to transport the seedlings via basket to the planting site, each holds 25 - 30 seedlings.

Somehow the barefooted men carry 100 seedlings each over hills and through rice paddies to the often steep planting site.

these baskets are very heavy - it took me 3 months of training to be able to lift a basket a short distance!

Baskets of seedlings being unloaded road side, taking only one at a time up a 25 minute hill climb

-         Women plant 100 seedlings each. Its hard work in over bearing heat and or rainstorms, sometimes with small children on their backs. Often the planting  is rushed so that seedlings are not rooted in properly, many die in transport

-         Finally the plastic pots are collected 

After all this teamwork and organisation to nurture the seedlings, I estimate that 60% of those seedlings will die. The seedlings are simply not strong enough to survive in a  competitive grass and heathland. environment.

Unfortunately this is due to the project being underfunded, but as it grows more attention will be put on increasing the mortality rates in the field.

The generic fern which covers most land area and grows quicker than tree seedlings

Enga,  a strong exotic pioneer growing well