My first impression and thoughts in rural Madagascar? I am far too vertically gifted to maintain any form of inconspicuous in a third world village…

I woke up to the sound of a chicken… Upstairs… The family living on the top level of this crowded building have a chicken… In the house…

I would soon realise that everything about life in Ambohitrakely will be questionable, ridiculous and absurd – to me. To the people here it is normal and within a few days of living in Ambohitrakely, having a chicken living in your house seemed normal in comparison to other things I witnessed in the village…

My first mornings in Ambohitrakely were overwhelming – and as I listened to the sounds of the locals – and their animals – starting their day with the sun I would have to quickly remind myself where I was – and what I was doing?

“What am I doing?”

The question that filled my every thought during my first few days in Ambohitrakely… Because what was I doing??

Why had I sacrificed the luxuries of the first world and ended up in the absolute middle of nowhere? Why had I decided to have my first experience volunteering in a country that only spoke English as a third language – a language that is hardly uttered in a village so far from city-life. What was I doing?

Here’s what I was doing…

I was throwing myself in the deep end. I was giving up some things so I could gain so much more. I was going to get to know a part of the world so different from my own that I had to experience it to believe it was even real. I was going to try and teach some English. I was going to try and learn some French (and maybe even a little Malagasy). I was going to give this opportunity my best shot – and I was going to keep in mind that I could give up at any moment and return to the little luxuries of electricity and running water. But I was firstly going to give this place my best shot. And I was going to learn some things along the way.

With good intentions fresh in my mind I was motivated and inspired by Ambohitrakely. I refused to let the chicken upstairs or the lack of (first-world) hygiene scare me. If so many people in the world can live their whole lives in circumstances like this – or much worse – I could certainly stick it out for under a month.

My first few days in Ambohitrakely were the building blocks of routine. Without routine my worst fear was boredom…

I would watch Maya, the seasoned volunteer, start the fire – wondering whether I would ever learn how to start it myself… Once the stove-fire was going I learnt how to wait half an hour to boil water and how to make the most of a meal out of minimal ingredients…

I learnt how to shop at the local stalls – where my groceries would be limited to: tomatoes, potatoes, carrots, bananas, peanuts, rice, coal and candles. If I wanted anything fancier the markets were an hour and a half’s walk away. A basic shop that was really a four-hour expedition – which would end up making my legs more toned than they have ever been…

I learnt how to collect water from the village water-pump – and then struggle with the bucket back home… And up the stairs.

I learnt how to wash my clothes, my body and my dishes with this bucket.

I learnt how to spend my evenings by candlelight – how to best position the candle next to the bed to have a well-lit novel… I learnt how to read for hours on end.

But most importantly – I learnt how to connect with the local people – both on the streets and in the library. I learnt how to amuse the younger kids and teach some English to the older kids and adults. I learnt some Malagasy to get by and I learnt how to live in Ambohitrakely.

In only a few days I had certainly learnt a lot…