For two months I lived in a small town called Ambohidratrimo, just outside the capital city of Antananarivo, Madagascar. Life there was raw and real—no running water, barely any electricity, and bucket showers when it rained just to have enough water for the week. Most meals were rice with a little meat or vegetables, and every day felt like a balance between survival and gratitude. It was a place where comfort didn’t exist, but connection did.
I spent my time serving at a local school and helping mothers and families in need—people who had little, but gave everything they could. We played basketball and soccer on dirt courts, laughed through language barriers, and built something lasting through simplicity and faith. Those weeks stripped life down to its basics and taught me more about resilience, perspective, and what truly matters than any classroom or city ever could.
Later in the trip, we flew by helicopter deep into the bush—so remote that some villages had never seen a white person before. We helped provide dental and medical care, set up small clinics, and played universal soccer games that connected everyone despite language or background. It was the most rugged and uncomfortable part of the journey—hot, dirty, and isolated—but also the most powerful. In those moments, surrounded by pure humility and joy, I saw what true service and humanity look like.
