Many days had passed since Herimamy had confided his desire to his mother. Every morning, before going to market, he gazed at the distant hills, like a seeker of answers. The cool wind blowing through the valley seemed to bring him a message, an echo of ancestral voices: " Don't forget where you come from ."
One day, while strolling through the market, Herimamy noticed an old man selling wooden handicrafts. Among these objects, one particularly caught his attention: small sculptures full of meaning, representing the relationship between humans and nature and their ancestors. He stopped, fascinated, observing every detail. Then, he approached the man respectfully.
"Sir, who made these objects?" he asked.
"It's me, my son," the man replied with a smile. "But it's not just wood. Every piece tells a story. Whenever I cut down a tree, I first speak to it and ask permission. The spirits of our ancestors reside in the trees and in the earth."
Herimamy shuddered. No one had ever spoken to him like this. This was not a simple ritual, but a deep connection with nature and the spiritual .
"And what does homeland mean to you?" he asked curiously.
"My son," replied the old man, "homeland is not limited to trees and stones. It resides in your flesh and your spirit. To leave your homeland is to abandon yourself. To forget your language is to forget your blood. Not to honor your ancestors is to lose your roots."
A light breeze caressed his face, as if to confirm the wisdom of his words.
Herimamy took the sculpture of a young man carrying a mat on his shoulders and watching the sunrise. He bought it, took it home, and placed it on the desk in his room. Every time he looked at it, he remembered the old man's words: " Homeland is flesh and spirit."
Many times he reflected and whispered wisely:
— "My friend, it is not bad to speak a foreign language, but it is terrible to forget one's own. The Malagasy language is our soul. If we forget it, we are lost."
Sometimes Herimamy felt strange, as many of his friends imitated the behavior and mannerisms of foreigners: they spoke, acted, and thought like them. But Herimamy did not give up. He understood that the path to patriotism was not easy ; it required patience, perseverance, and determination.
The following month, he began participating in the school's cultural activities. He learned traditional songs, Malagasy dances, and ancient languages. He felt more alive than ever. His heart filled with joy when he heard the sound of the valiha , or violin, instruments that carried the history of his country.
One night, sitting by his bedroom window, he gazed at the starry sky. The silence and peace that reigned there seemed almost magical to him. He thought he heard a voice coming from the stars:
"Be careful, Herimamy . True patriotism lies not in words but in actions and lifestyle."
He smiled, and answered softly to that inner voice:
— "Yes, I understand. I'll start slowly, with the changes that are happening in my life."
He bent down and wrote in his notebook:
Patriotism is an unbreakable bond. If its foundations crumble, rebirth begins in the heart.
From that moment on, Herimamy understood that he was no longer a mere spectator of history, but an actor. His actions, thoughts, and choices began to shape his own understanding of his homeland.
In the following days, he began to put what he was learning into practice. He attended small gatherings with his classmates to share stories, learn songs, and practice traditional dances. Each activity reinforced his belief that the flesh and spirit must work together. to honor the homeland.
One day, a school teacher encouraged him:
— " Herimamy , what you do is not just for yourself. You are teaching your classmates respect and love for our culture. You are sowing seeds for the future."
Herimamy understood that patriotism was not limited to words or abstract concepts. It manifested itself in daily practice, in actions, learning, and transmission to others. He saw that young people could be a vector of change , provided they were given the tools and wisdom to understand their roots.
As the weeks went by, he noted in his notebook:
Flesh and spirit are inseparable. Together, they create strength, knowledge, and wisdom, capable of protecting and transmitting history and culture.
He began to see changes around him: children were learning to listen to their elders, respect their customs, and share knowledge with one another. The values he championed were taking shape in everyday life. Songs and dances were no longer distant memories, but living ways of connecting generations.
Herimamy also realized that he could not simply teach culture and history. He had to lead by example, through his daily actions and way of life. Patriotism was not a mere ideal, but a concrete and constant commitment.
One night, under the mango tree near his house, he wrote a final reflection for this chapter of his life:
Flesh and spirit, when united in heart and action, can transform a life and influence an entire community. True commitment to the homeland begins with practice and sharing, not mere words.
From that moment on, Herimamy felt fully involved in the life of his village and his country. He was no longer a passive young man; he had become an agent of change , aware that every action, every learning, and every gesture of love for his homeland counted. His journey toward patriotism had just taken on a new dimension: it was now rooted in the flesh, the mind, and the heart .