On July 30, at the Dango market in the Faratsiho district, a man was attacked by a mob, accused of attempting to kidnap a child. He died, burned, before anyone had time to verify anything. In the following days, relatives and local officials indicated that he likely suffered from mental health issues, according to a statement from the Mouvement pour la Différence et d’Autisme Madagascar. The exact facts remain to be established. What is established is that a man paid with his life for an accusation that was never proven.
Let us first understand the fear that led to this act. Madagascar is going through a wave of kidnappings and disappearances that spares no family from anxiety. This fear is legitimate, it is not the fault of those who carry it, and we must commend the local authorities who are calling for calm and urging the population to report any suspicious behavior to law enforcement rather than taking justice into their own hands. This is the right reflex, the one that was cruelly missing at the Dango market that day.
Dango is unfortunately not an isolated case. A joint statement published on July 31 by Factivistes, Ilontsera, and other media education actors lists the same excesses in Ambohimena Antsirabe, Ankadindramamy, Antehiroka, and Analavory. There is a Malagasy expression that captures this well: “tondro molotra sy tsaho,” pointing fingers and spreading rumors. The mechanism is identical everywhere: an unverified suspicion circulates, amplifies on social networks, and turns into a popular verdict before any facts are established.
There is an ohabolana (proverb) that summarizes all this better than I could: “Teny zato, kabary arivo; fa iray ihany no marina.” A hundred words, a thousand speeches; only one is true. The problem, in Dango as elsewhere, is that the hundredth word always arrives before the truth, and it spreads faster because it is more frightening.
This tragedy speaks volumes about another subject, more discreet but just as urgent: how a society treats those who are different. A person who wanders, talks to themselves, or does not respond as expected is not automatically a threat. They may be living with a disability, a mental disorder, or a neurodevelopmental disorder, and already carry a burden that society refuses to see as long as it does not disturb. The day they do disturb, they find themselves alone facing a crowd that has decided, in a few minutes, that they are the monster they were looking for.
I see it every day in my work with families affected by autism: a child who does not respond to their name, who flaps their hands, or who screams for no apparent reason in a market or a taxi-brousse first attracts stares, then comments. But this child grows up. And it is especially adolescents and adults, those whose difference no longer makes anyone smile and who are no longer protected by a watchful gaze, who are most exposed to the violence of a crowd. It was an adult man who died in Dango, not a child. These families already live with this specific fear: that their child will become, as they grow up, the one who is pointed at before being understood.
The July 31 statement puts it better than I could: “A rumor does not just destroy the truth. It can also destroy lives.” Establishing facts before judging, protecting those who cannot defend themselves, learning to recognize difference without turning it into a danger: this is not complicated to state, only difficult to maintain in the heat of fear. A difference should never have cost a life.
Captured & Published at: 2026-08-08 06:23:45 (Madagascar Local Time EAT)
Original Source: https://www.lexpress.mg/2026/08/le-tort-detre-different.html