Outside the comfort zone
25 SUNDAY MAIL • November 27, 2011
special report
WinterTravel With colder climes the traditional destinations this season maybe it’s time to look further afield
Outside the comfort zone
All smiles: the children at the school in Karanaga
Travel can be so much more than visiting a stunning location and coming back with loads of photos. Zoe Christodoulides tries out a short term volunteering stint to get the true taste of Tanzania h his is a story that needs to begin at the n end. Because - as une wittingly clichéd as w - it’s the little it may sound s hands tthat wave goodbye to me as my trip trails to its that makes the whole finish th worthwhile. thing wo To my left, a colourful, handpainted map of the Afh ha ndpai continent glares back rican c me. To my right, the at m open window looks out towards fields of endless tow banana plantations ba nestled in a lush green ne landscape that makes la its way up to the foot of it Mt Kilimanjaro. Right M before me huddles a b group of exceptionally g excited children that e have little concept of h
T Tradition: a Maasai woman
life beyond the place known to them as home: a tiny village called Karanga in north east Tanzania. This marks my last day of a three-week volunteer placement at a Tanzanian nursery school and the smiling faces give me good reason to believe that family money, hundreds of toys and a cushy lifestyle bear little relation to true happiness. Perhaps this is the biggest lesson I’ve learnt in Africa. But to get to that point, it’s time to go back to the beginning. It was a rather quiet day during the August lull that got me thinking. Perhaps it was the slight boredom within me that pushed me to book the trip as I grew tired of the same old things in the
world around me. Itching with an insatiable travel bug, I wondered if this time round I could embark on a trip that wasn’t going to be like all the rest. And by saying that, I mean not just a journey to see another part of the world that involves taking colourful snapshots during the day while lazing in the comfort of a hotel room at night. Instead, I wished to totally immerse myself in a place outside my own comfort zone where I could possibly give a little something back. There are many times in life that I have found myself saying “if only I could make a difference”. But this time I thought, “I can at least try”. Perhaps one of the main reasons I unreservedly pressed
the “confirm” button on the volunteer placement out in Africa was to see what the wider world might have to teach me: to get down to the core in a place far from the cushioned lives we have become so accustomed to and see if there’s any real truth in the fact that we just don’t know how lucky we are until we’ve seen how the other half live. The plane flies high above the barren Ethiopian landscape, and while the greenery of Kenya is captivating, it’s the approach to Tanzania and a glance outside the window that prompts instant bewilderment. One by one, what appear to be
TURN TO PAGE 26
26 November 27, 2011 • SUNDAY MAIL
WinterTravel
Outside of the School of thought: children in the classroom in Karanaga
continued from page 25 massive crop circles catch my attention, interrupting a patchwork of brown and green flatland. Of course not what I first thought, the wide circles merely mark out the territories of the many tribes that reside in the endless, uncultivated fields of Tanzania. Then, looming monstrous over the horizon is the breathtaking Kilimanjaro with its snow capped peak rising high above the clouds. It’s now October 22. From day one I know there is just something incredibly different about this place. Maybe it’s the smell of the air punctuated by a musty earthiness, maybe it’s the kids that rush to smile and wave at the very sight of me on the bus postairport, or just maybe, it’s because I already know that
in rural Africa, every superficial and materialistic artefact that we hold dear to us in the west can suddenly seem so insignificant. I catch a glimpse of people living with no electricity in mud houses; reality already seems far away, almost like I’m living in a parallel universe where life back home is a complete blur. Some of the facts dished out to us upon arrival are daunting. With a life expectancy of 42 due to AIDS, it’s not unusual for kids to lose both parents before being abandoned on the street. Only some of them are lucky enough to make it into a shelter or orphanage. While the majority of women do not finish education, any young girl that falls pregnant will be kicked out of school instantly, whereas the man will be given the right to
continue as he wishes. In a culture that certainly doesn’t favour women, female circumcision is still a big cultural phenomenon although officially deemed illegal by the state. The unfathomable ‘reasons’ for this are many: it is not considered correct for a woman to enjoy sexual pleasure, some tribes suppose that if a girl is not circumcised she will not fall pregnant, while others believe an uncircumcised woman will not give birth to a healthy child. In a society so very different to ours, the school children have been told of my arrival and wait at the school gate anticipating the moment they’ll get to meet me. With no idea who I really am or where in the world Cyprus is, they gravitate towards me
With an average life expectancy of 42 due to AIDS, it’s not unusual for kids to lose both parents before being abandoned on the street like bees to honey as if the very sight of me is enough to brighten their day. “Mambo mambo. Teacher, teacher, teacher!” they belt out. Each of them scrambles to grab a hold of my hand while others reach to stroke my blonde hair. All of a sudden I know that this experience is one that will stay with me for the rest of my life. Nestled in a forested area, the school is attached to the catholic church of the village and teacher Mama Antonia juggles office work for the church with morning lessons. Teaching in Africa bears little resemblance to teaching as we know it. For a start, some kids will make it to school, other kids won’t. It all depends on how literate their families are and if they consider schooling a priority. Teaching times are unreliable, classes are overcrowded, and teachers struggle to get enough money from the parents to buy the basic exercise books required. And more often than not, the teacher may have other duties that mean abandoning the classroom for perhaps hours on end, leaving the kids to their own devices. The Karanga nursery school classroom is rather bare: the only colourful pictures on the walls are ones that have been placed there by previous volunteers. Exercise books are falling apart, pens are rationed, visual aids are non existent and the concept of learning through play is alien. The 20 children have one football and one mangy rope used for skipping between them. The barren ‘playground’ indicates there are simply no funds and no resources for more. The kids however are always smiling. The language barrier between us is of course huge but the affection and happiness that they show me defies description. And it goes without saying that one class fits all. Aged between three and six, they
Maasai: members of the Maasai (and above) who have resisted efforts to modernise their lifestyle
On safari: zebras are as stunning up close as expected all pile into one room as the teacher struggles to give them each a different exercise to stimulate them. An almost impossible task, my role is that of giving the kids more personal attention, especially to the slow learners that always get left behind. Most impressive is their passion and thirst for knowledge as they beg for attention and more exercises. They all need help of some kind but the teacher just doesn’t have the time. After much effort I encourage one little girl named Karen to write the letter ‘e’ and she is so happy that she twirls around the classroom
as I congratulate her. “One boy is very bad, he is so slow,” says Mama Antonia pointing to the six-year-old Coleman who sits at the very back of the room staring down at his book while scribbling randomly across empty pages. The young boy has been in the same class for three years and he can’t yet write a single letter. Although his parents have enough money to pay for his education, they think it’s just unfortunate he isn’t very bright and he’ll probably never make it into primary school. Working with him he seems to be dyslexic and is far more gifted in drawing than many of the other
27 SUNDAY MAIL • November 27, 2011
WinterTravel Cultural exchange: even short-term volunteering allows an insight into a country that ordinary tourism doesn’t offer
comfort zone
children. But unfortunately, special attention for children with learning difficulties is non-existent. The kids themselves are so grateful for the time I’m taking to be with them that many of them meet me outside their homes with a huge embrace as we walk the dirt track to school each day hand in hand as the captivating Kilimanjaro glistens beyond the immediate greenery. It’s a twenty minute walk
but even the three year olds know their way. As they run off to school, the parents just wave out to me in gratitude for my classroom assistance as I manage to engage in basic conversation with my broken Swahili making them giggle. Every day, come rain or shine, these simple village people go about their routine with a smile on their face. Some have to walk a couple of miles to get water, others are
struggling to keep their families fed and healthy, but they are all determined to make the most of what they’ve got. A visit to a local orphanage where five out of the 30 kids suffer from HIV - continues to put things in perspective. Their tatty muddy clothes are enough to shock any westerner, while their bare dark rooms and the lonesome rusty swing that sways in the distance would make any child here burst into
tears. But far from crying, these youngsters are proud to show me their beds and point towards the numerous stray puppies that have become their new friends. Jumping with sheer delight at the very sight of us, the afternoon is spent teaching them to dance the Macarena as they show off some of their moves. With the weekends and afternoons in between schoolwork packed with excursions and cultural activities, it dawns on me that most of these people have never experienced the things that tourists know Africa for. We go on to visit stunning national parks where animals roam wild in their natural habitats, we hike to magical waterfalls and help locals with their organic coffee production. We even get the chance to hop on a plane and lap up a weekend of sunshine on the soft white sands of Zanzibar with a stroll through the mesmerising streets of Stone Town. A while before depar-
ture we visit a colourful Maasai tribe who cling to traditional ional ways of life and actively ely resist modern changes despite government programmes grammes encouraging them hem to abandon their semi mi nomadic lifestyles. Living iving as they y have done e for centuries, their ir culture depends on their cattle providing for many y of their dietary needs. eeds. Beyond the e circular miniature earthen houses of ai, the beauthe Maasai, ty of the surrounding de is breathcountryside hile the crimtaking while ets are unforson sunsets gettable across the here giraffes vistas where ely on the side roam freely of streetss as they nibble rees. But truth be nearby trees. told, the beauty of this place is nothing without the people who seem to smile far more than we do and yet have so much less to call their own.
You can join a similar volunteer course in countries across the world through Cross Cultural Solutions: www.crossculturalsolutions.org
special report
WinterTravel With colder climes the traditional destinations this season maybe it’s time to look further afield
Outside the comfort zone
All smiles: the children at the school in Karanaga
Travel can be so much more than visiting a stunning location and coming back with loads of photos. Zoe Christodoulides tries out a short term volunteering stint to get the true taste of Tanzania h his is a story that needs to begin at the n end. Because - as une wittingly clichéd as w - it’s the little it may sound s hands tthat wave goodbye to me as my trip trails to its that makes the whole finish th worthwhile. thing wo To my left, a colourful, handpainted map of the Afh ha ndpai continent glares back rican c me. To my right, the at m open window looks out towards fields of endless tow banana plantations ba nestled in a lush green ne landscape that makes la its way up to the foot of it Mt Kilimanjaro. Right M before me huddles a b group of exceptionally g excited children that e have little concept of h
T Tradition: a Maasai woman
life beyond the place known to them as home: a tiny village called Karanga in north east Tanzania. This marks my last day of a three-week volunteer placement at a Tanzanian nursery school and the smiling faces give me good reason to believe that family money, hundreds of toys and a cushy lifestyle bear little relation to true happiness. Perhaps this is the biggest lesson I’ve learnt in Africa. But to get to that point, it’s time to go back to the beginning. It was a rather quiet day during the August lull that got me thinking. Perhaps it was the slight boredom within me that pushed me to book the trip as I grew tired of the same old things in the
world around me. Itching with an insatiable travel bug, I wondered if this time round I could embark on a trip that wasn’t going to be like all the rest. And by saying that, I mean not just a journey to see another part of the world that involves taking colourful snapshots during the day while lazing in the comfort of a hotel room at night. Instead, I wished to totally immerse myself in a place outside my own comfort zone where I could possibly give a little something back. There are many times in life that I have found myself saying “if only I could make a difference”. But this time I thought, “I can at least try”. Perhaps one of the main reasons I unreservedly pressed
the “confirm” button on the volunteer placement out in Africa was to see what the wider world might have to teach me: to get down to the core in a place far from the cushioned lives we have become so accustomed to and see if there’s any real truth in the fact that we just don’t know how lucky we are until we’ve seen how the other half live. The plane flies high above the barren Ethiopian landscape, and while the greenery of Kenya is captivating, it’s the approach to Tanzania and a glance outside the window that prompts instant bewilderment. One by one, what appear to be
TURN TO PAGE 26
26 November 27, 2011 • SUNDAY MAIL
WinterTravel
Outside of the School of thought: children in the classroom in Karanaga
continued from page 25 massive crop circles catch my attention, interrupting a patchwork of brown and green flatland. Of course not what I first thought, the wide circles merely mark out the territories of the many tribes that reside in the endless, uncultivated fields of Tanzania. Then, looming monstrous over the horizon is the breathtaking Kilimanjaro with its snow capped peak rising high above the clouds. It’s now October 22. From day one I know there is just something incredibly different about this place. Maybe it’s the smell of the air punctuated by a musty earthiness, maybe it’s the kids that rush to smile and wave at the very sight of me on the bus postairport, or just maybe, it’s because I already know that
in rural Africa, every superficial and materialistic artefact that we hold dear to us in the west can suddenly seem so insignificant. I catch a glimpse of people living with no electricity in mud houses; reality already seems far away, almost like I’m living in a parallel universe where life back home is a complete blur. Some of the facts dished out to us upon arrival are daunting. With a life expectancy of 42 due to AIDS, it’s not unusual for kids to lose both parents before being abandoned on the street. Only some of them are lucky enough to make it into a shelter or orphanage. While the majority of women do not finish education, any young girl that falls pregnant will be kicked out of school instantly, whereas the man will be given the right to
continue as he wishes. In a culture that certainly doesn’t favour women, female circumcision is still a big cultural phenomenon although officially deemed illegal by the state. The unfathomable ‘reasons’ for this are many: it is not considered correct for a woman to enjoy sexual pleasure, some tribes suppose that if a girl is not circumcised she will not fall pregnant, while others believe an uncircumcised woman will not give birth to a healthy child. In a society so very different to ours, the school children have been told of my arrival and wait at the school gate anticipating the moment they’ll get to meet me. With no idea who I really am or where in the world Cyprus is, they gravitate towards me
With an average life expectancy of 42 due to AIDS, it’s not unusual for kids to lose both parents before being abandoned on the street like bees to honey as if the very sight of me is enough to brighten their day. “Mambo mambo. Teacher, teacher, teacher!” they belt out. Each of them scrambles to grab a hold of my hand while others reach to stroke my blonde hair. All of a sudden I know that this experience is one that will stay with me for the rest of my life. Nestled in a forested area, the school is attached to the catholic church of the village and teacher Mama Antonia juggles office work for the church with morning lessons. Teaching in Africa bears little resemblance to teaching as we know it. For a start, some kids will make it to school, other kids won’t. It all depends on how literate their families are and if they consider schooling a priority. Teaching times are unreliable, classes are overcrowded, and teachers struggle to get enough money from the parents to buy the basic exercise books required. And more often than not, the teacher may have other duties that mean abandoning the classroom for perhaps hours on end, leaving the kids to their own devices. The Karanga nursery school classroom is rather bare: the only colourful pictures on the walls are ones that have been placed there by previous volunteers. Exercise books are falling apart, pens are rationed, visual aids are non existent and the concept of learning through play is alien. The 20 children have one football and one mangy rope used for skipping between them. The barren ‘playground’ indicates there are simply no funds and no resources for more. The kids however are always smiling. The language barrier between us is of course huge but the affection and happiness that they show me defies description. And it goes without saying that one class fits all. Aged between three and six, they
Maasai: members of the Maasai (and above) who have resisted efforts to modernise their lifestyle
On safari: zebras are as stunning up close as expected all pile into one room as the teacher struggles to give them each a different exercise to stimulate them. An almost impossible task, my role is that of giving the kids more personal attention, especially to the slow learners that always get left behind. Most impressive is their passion and thirst for knowledge as they beg for attention and more exercises. They all need help of some kind but the teacher just doesn’t have the time. After much effort I encourage one little girl named Karen to write the letter ‘e’ and she is so happy that she twirls around the classroom
as I congratulate her. “One boy is very bad, he is so slow,” says Mama Antonia pointing to the six-year-old Coleman who sits at the very back of the room staring down at his book while scribbling randomly across empty pages. The young boy has been in the same class for three years and he can’t yet write a single letter. Although his parents have enough money to pay for his education, they think it’s just unfortunate he isn’t very bright and he’ll probably never make it into primary school. Working with him he seems to be dyslexic and is far more gifted in drawing than many of the other
27 SUNDAY MAIL • November 27, 2011
WinterTravel Cultural exchange: even short-term volunteering allows an insight into a country that ordinary tourism doesn’t offer
comfort zone
children. But unfortunately, special attention for children with learning difficulties is non-existent. The kids themselves are so grateful for the time I’m taking to be with them that many of them meet me outside their homes with a huge embrace as we walk the dirt track to school each day hand in hand as the captivating Kilimanjaro glistens beyond the immediate greenery. It’s a twenty minute walk
but even the three year olds know their way. As they run off to school, the parents just wave out to me in gratitude for my classroom assistance as I manage to engage in basic conversation with my broken Swahili making them giggle. Every day, come rain or shine, these simple village people go about their routine with a smile on their face. Some have to walk a couple of miles to get water, others are
struggling to keep their families fed and healthy, but they are all determined to make the most of what they’ve got. A visit to a local orphanage where five out of the 30 kids suffer from HIV - continues to put things in perspective. Their tatty muddy clothes are enough to shock any westerner, while their bare dark rooms and the lonesome rusty swing that sways in the distance would make any child here burst into
tears. But far from crying, these youngsters are proud to show me their beds and point towards the numerous stray puppies that have become their new friends. Jumping with sheer delight at the very sight of us, the afternoon is spent teaching them to dance the Macarena as they show off some of their moves. With the weekends and afternoons in between schoolwork packed with excursions and cultural activities, it dawns on me that most of these people have never experienced the things that tourists know Africa for. We go on to visit stunning national parks where animals roam wild in their natural habitats, we hike to magical waterfalls and help locals with their organic coffee production. We even get the chance to hop on a plane and lap up a weekend of sunshine on the soft white sands of Zanzibar with a stroll through the mesmerising streets of Stone Town. A while before depar-
ture we visit a colourful Maasai tribe who cling to traditional ional ways of life and actively ely resist modern changes despite government programmes grammes encouraging them hem to abandon their semi mi nomadic lifestyles. Living iving as they y have done e for centuries, their ir culture depends on their cattle providing for many y of their dietary needs. eeds. Beyond the e circular miniature earthen houses of ai, the beauthe Maasai, ty of the surrounding de is breathcountryside hile the crimtaking while ets are unforson sunsets gettable across the here giraffes vistas where ely on the side roam freely of streetss as they nibble rees. But truth be nearby trees. told, the beauty of this place is nothing without the people who seem to smile far more than we do and yet have so much less to call their own.
You can join a similar volunteer course in countries across the world through Cross Cultural Solutions: www.crossculturalsolutions.org
