From 25,000 feet the view of the Tanzanian coastline with its coral reefs, long sandy bays and azure blue sea looks like a classic glossy travel brochure. And the 15-minute drive from Mtwara airport reveals tantalising glimpses of the Indian Ocean between the exotic display of palm and baobab trees. But as we enter Mikindani village I'm looking more carefully at the scenery – for me this isn't an exotic holiday destination; this is to be my home.

I've already been advised that the first two weeks will be in 'Homestay' i.e. living with a local family, so I'm interested to see what the local homes look like. I know that I won't be staying in one of the daub and wattle huts, but in one of the old stone houses. Sounds good. But the first stone houses that we pass, although inhabited, appear to be in total ruin..?

Becky introduces me to my host, Mr Sijaona. He is a small wiry man with a purposeful stride. He welcomes me into his house. I gaze around at the crumbling walls and the total lack of comfort. But then he says in halting English that his other house is better, (two wives, therefore two houses) – so I pick up my suitcase and follow him down the dusty street.

His other house is in a rather worse state of disrepair. The ceiling of the front room is in a pile behind the door. I can't see much detail, as the inside of the house is inky black after the bright sunshine outside. He pulls aside an old piece of cloth to show me to my quarters. I have arrived.

I can't deny that during that first evening I wonder what on earth I'm doing. Waves of panic alternate with interest, and frustration. I want to ask a hundred questions; which is your wife and who are all the other girls, children and women; what are we going to eat for dinner and how is it prepared, how does the family get water, how many people live in this house,…. but I can't seem to make myself understood, or at least the answers in halting English don't match my questions. I'm clutching my 'Teach Yourself Swahili' but at this stage it might as well be 'Astrophysics for Beginners'.

By Day Four I'm beginning to make a bit more sense of my surroundings. I've wandered around the Boma and its grounds, visited a couple of schools, explored the village, the waterfront and the yacht club, but more importantly had time to watch and chat to local people. 'Chatting' takes the form of sign language, my pathetic attempts at Swahili greetings, and local people's various standards of English. Mr Sijaona and his family are being wonderfully patient and helpful. I went with him yesterday to water his garden and help him plant sweet potatoes. Yesterday morning wife number 2 (you see, I am beginning to find things out) sat with me for over an hour teaching me how to plait grasses into a tape which forms the basis of a mat. And this morning Mr Sijaona showed me how to weave a basket from palm leaves.

They are delighted to teach me these things and are willing me to absorb the Swahili they keep throwing my way. If only I could absorb it all quickly. But it's “Pole pole catchy monkey”. I'll get there!