What Science Can’t Save: A Personal Battle in Madagascar’s Conservation Crisis

When Fieldwork Pushes You to the Edge

I’ve put off writing this for a long time. Not because I don’t want to talk about it, but because for a while, I couldn’t. Madagascar changed me in ways I never expected—some for the better, some in ways I’m still working through.

I went to Madagascar for my PhD research. I wanted to understand how lemurs navigate—whether they use simple route networks or more complex Euclidean maps, how factors like group size and seasonality affect their movement. The work itself was gruelling. I followed two groups of lemurs day and night, tracking their every move with a GPS. Some days, I woke at 4 a.m. and followed them from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m., returning to camp by 7 p.m. The next day, I’d switch—leaving at 4 p.m. to track them from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. It was relentless, exhausting, and completely isolating.

That would have been hard enough. But it wasn’t just the fieldwork that broke me.

The Reality of Academia in the Field

Academia tells you that this is normal. That it’s expected to work yourself to the bone, to sacrifice your physical and mental health for the sake of science. That if you struggle, it’s a personal failing, not a systemic issue. But the reality is—this isn’t normal.

I was isolated, not just by the lack of signal in the forest but by the very institutions that were supposed to support me. My university was thousands of miles away, disconnected from what was actually happening on the ground. The NGO I was working with—one that claimed to be dedicated to conservation and ethical research—wasn’t just absent; they became actively hostile.

When my high-tech tracking collars failed after just 10 days, I was left with no backup plan. The $20,000 we’d secured was meant to fund novel, automatic data collection. Without it, I had no choice but to push myself beyond my limits—manually collecting data every five minutes, running through dense forest for 12 hours straight. Instead of asking how they could support me, the response from both the university and the NGO was simple: keep going.

And I did. Because at the time, I thought I had to.

Corruption, Power, and Conservation

But then things got worse. The power imbalance in Madagascar’s conservation world is deep-rooted and dangerous. Foreign NGOs, often managed by wealthier Malagasy or with strong connections to extractive industries, hold enormous influence. They dictate what happens on the ground, regardless of what local communities actually want or need. Corruption runs deep—money and power stay in the hands of a few, while the people living alongside Madagascar’s wildlife see little to no benefit.

I saw it happening in real-time—and so did Tsiraiky.

We were in a position where we could see the cracks in the system. That made us a threat. The NGO I worked with turned against us. And when power structures start to topple, the ones at the bottom are the first to get hurt.

I won’t go into all the details, but I will say this: people got hurt. And it wasn’t just me.

By the time I left Madagascar, I wasn’t just exhausted—I was broken. I had spent 1.5 years collecting continuous data day and night, doing something no one else had done before. And for what? The research was groundbreaking, yes. But at what cost?

I came out of that experience with PTSD. The stress, the isolation, the gaslighting, the sheer mental and emotional weight of it all—it took a toll that I’m still recovering from.

But even in the darkest moments, there was one thing that kept me going—Tsiraiky.

The Person Who Held Me Together

When everything else crumbled, Tsiraiky gave me his heart and trust. He saw me at my lowest, at a time when I didn’t even recognise myself. When I felt abandoned by the very institutions that were supposed to support me, he stood by my side without hesitation.

It’s one thing to support someone in their best moments, but another entirely to hold them up when they’re breaking. He gave me strength when I had none left.

The Unstoppable Force of Industry

When you dedicate your life to conservation, you want to believe that science and research can protect an environment. That gathering data, publishing papers, and raising awareness will somehow be enough.

But the reality is—it isn’t.

No amount of research can stop a mine from coming in and destroying a habitat. Right now, a mine is set to rip through one of the last remaining patches of forest in southern Madagascar. It’s extracting ilmenite —a mineral used to make titanium, and make white paint, the kind that colours our walls, our cars, our technology.

To get ilmenite, the sandy topsoil that characterises the littoral forests of Madagascars east coast, is scraped away, leaving behind a wasteland. The landscape, the wildlife, the communities that have lived there for generations—it’s all wiped out. The destruction is massive and irreversible.

And here I am, writing this on my iPhone—made with titanium. I can’t change what the West wants, or even what I want. I like having an iPhone. But I’ve decided that if I can’t stop the mine, I can help the local communities who will be displaced when it arrives.

Because you’d think that at least the mine would provide jobs for them, right? But no—the jobs go to South Africans. The people who have lived on this land for generations will be left with nothing.

A New Approach to Conservation

That’s why we created Miremby.

Instead of chasing grants that disappear into foreign institutions, we wanted to build something that directly benefits the people of Madagascar. Something that gives them control over their own futures.

With Miremby, we don’t just run tours—we create experiences that centre local people, ensuring they benefit directly from tourism rather than being sidelined. We work with artisans, fishermen, and communities to develop sustainable ways to earn a living, so they don’t have to rely on foreign NGOs dictating their futures. Every part of what we do is designed to challenge the exploitative systems I saw firsthand.

And beyond tourism, we give back. Through the Miremby Foundation, we reinvest profits into local communities—whether it’s funding education, supporting sustainable initiatives, or responding to urgent needs. Our most recent project is helping Clarcine, a student from Sainte Luce, stay in school after losing her father. We’re also working to provide life jackets for fishermen in Sainte Luce, who risk their lives every day without proper safety equipment. Our achievements so far are, providing a roof for a school in Antanitsara, a pirogue with an outrigger in Sainte Luce and supporting artisan silversmith in Fort Dauphin.

We aim to help communities prepare for the inevitable displacement when the mine arrives. If they can’t stop it, they at least deserve the resources to rebuild their lives elsewhere.

This isn’t just travel. This is a movement to shift the power back to the people who actually live here.

Lessons Learned

I still believe in science. I still care deeply about lemurs, about movement ecology, about conservation. But I also know that no research, no paper, no grant is worth sacrificing your mental health, your safety, or your integrity.

If I’ve learned anything, it’s that resilience isn’t just about pushing through. It’s about recognising when the system itself is broken—and choosing to build something better instead.

Science gave me a foundation. Madagascar gave me a purpose. And Tsiraiky gave me the strength to turn it all into something meaningful.

Now, through Miremby, I’m working to make sure that what happened to us doesn’t happen to others. That researchers aren’t left to fend for themselves in impossible situations but are empowered to make connections with the local community. That communities aren’t overlooked, but are helped to take control of their own future. That real, ethical change isn’t just talked about—but actually happens.

And we’re just getting started.

How can you help

✅ Donate to our foundation and be part of real, community-led change (paypal.me/Miremby) or donate directly to our GoFundMe for Clarcine https://gofund.me/0e76a5f8

✅ Visit www.miremby.com to learn more or to book a tour.

✅ Share this post to spread the word about ethical travel that truly makes a difference!

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