International Women’s Day often catches me by surprise, when I receive kind messages of solidarity from both male and female friends, but after today the date of 8th of March will be etched in to my memory, as the day I was in Madagascar and learnt how the day really should be celebrated.

I can’t say that this happens all across Madagascar, but here in the small island of Nosy Komba the day is carnival day. Little work is done and several troupes of women from different villages on the island come together to dress up, dance and sing in front of – what looks like – all the islanders.

Today was to include a dance presentation by all the women volunteers from MRCI. Yah!!

We didn’t go in to the dance challenge completely un-prepared. If that is how you could describe two nightly, hour long run through, of two African dances, their complex steps and varying tempos.

We were to be up at 6am, breakfasted, ready for face painting and to be dressed in the African printed sarongs (bought for us in the week by the local staff) to complete the illusion. Then a 15 minute boat ride to Ampangorinana – the main village of the island, where we had walked on the first day.

By 9 am we were ready and assembled in the village square (that double as a basketball court), standing in what was already stifling sun to have each troupe announced to the gathering crowds over a loud PA system, just audible over the excited chatter.

Before the dancing started there was a quick flag raising ceremony and singing of the National Anthem, followed by a noisy music filled procession along the village paths. You felt the strong sense of community as you walked and jiggled your hips through the stilted bamboo huts.

It was such a marvellous photographic opportunity and I share only a few of my favourites.

Rumour had it that we would be the last troupe to dance, but fortunately for us, they put us half way between the 10 groups present, before we melted in to our coarse sarongs.

By the time we were called, the nerves were jangling. Would we totally embarrass ourselves? As it was we ‘took to the floor’ to a rapturous welcome of cheering and giggling as the hundreds of villagers tightened the cordon around us to get a better look.

It went really well. My dancing was rubbish (thankfully I am in background in pic below), but it was a great thrill to be there and a true honour to participate.

It was a once in a lifetime opportunity to people watch, with so much activity going on. Women in their best clothing, chatting, laughing, walking with their kids. Men present and supportive after ‘shooting hoops’ and playing boule. Children everywhere, of all sizes, dressed in frou frou frocks, their best hand – me- downs and football shirts. An amazing feast of loud print and vivid colour.

I will never forget International Women’s day again.