I arrived as a stranger but left as a friend

By Anne Moseley

Let me start at the beginning. I was widowed in October 2005 and had been used to travelling extensively with my husband. I came to realise that now did I not only have to live alone but would have to go on holiday alone too. But where to start?

While browsing Saga's website, two items were of particular interest to me: singles holidays and volunteer travel. To cut a long story short, I did both. My first venture alone was to Egypt in June. I returned thinking: "I can do this." My second 'holiday' was as a volunteer two months later in Port Elizabeth, South Africa.

My volunteer placement was at Missionvale Care Centre. Until a few days before leaving, I thought I was going to work with a large charitable organisation somewhere in Port Elizabeth. All I knew was that I would be doing some kind of social work along with a co-worker, Trisha, a nurse from the UK. On our arrival we met up with a third volunteer, Pam, who was to work in a local school. Eventually the three of us formed a formidable but supportive team, ready for almost anything. And that was just what we got.

Our first morning we saw the city sights and learned some of its history. We listened in awe to the conversation between our driver and tour guide chatting between themselves in Xhosa, our first introduction to the language. It was then that reality started to kick in: would I be able to understand and be understood? I needn't have worried, as most people I came into contact with spoke good, or at least some, English. Sign language is universal and came to the rescue on a number of occasions. Later in the day, tour rep Paul discussed our hopes and aspirations and generally gave us some very good advice. It was expected that I would work with Ellenees Carolus, a nursing sister who had recently been appointed to set up a home-based care programme.

Missionvale Care Centre is situated in the heart of a township of wooden shacks. There is abject poverty, hunger, high unemployment and disease such as tuberculosis and HIV. Water has to be carried to homes from standpipes; there is no electricity, while sanitation is primitive and communal. Cooking, if there is food to cook, is done on paraffin stoves. Fire is an ever-present threat. This is what met us on our second day and subsequent days until the end of our placement, but it quickly became obvious that Missionvale is a lifesaver in every sense of the word.

Over the past 18 years or so it has grown from Sister Ethel Normoyle dispensing what she had with love and compassion under a shady tree, to a vibrant set-up that includes a school, a clinic, a kitchen, an optometrist clinic, a clothes store, a workplace, a community hall and a church. Just before I arrived, 12 women from the local community had been on a three-month training course in basic nursing skills. For most of them it was their first job. My first week was spent finding out how Missionvale ticked and preparing the ground for new care-givers to start work the following week.

While life is hard for all who live in the Missionvale area, life is also difficult for those who work and volunteer there. As the centre is dependent on donations, every last resource is precious and used wisely. You work with what you have.

For the people who use the centre, the concept of 'something for nothing' is discouraged. For example, several hundred people are fed on soup and bread each day. However, this is not a direct handout; recipients are expected to bring along material for recycling. Simple things like drinks cans or small pieces of scrap metal are thrown into a skip in exchange for a token, which is then handed in at the kitchen.

Queues are a way of life at Missionvale. You queue for food, you queue for the clinic, you queue for the optometrist, and you queue to see Sister Ethel. But the overriding feeling is of mutual support, whether practical or spiritual. I felt thoroughly at home.

What did I do during my three weeks there? Difficult to say, really. Given my social work background, I had expected to do just that, but my role constantly changed and developed. I tried to use other skills which included supporting the care-givers, doing some admin, running the daily therapy group for those with HIV, and leading a support group in the church.

At times it was almost overwhelming to be so accepted by staff and clients. The final two days were particularly difficult because everyone wanted to say goodbye to us in a number of ways. Hugs say everything and yes, there were a few tears. One of the most touching moments was when Maggie in my therapy group sang a song she had composed, which told of how I had listened to them. I might have listened, but there wasn't much else I could do.

Would I do it all again? Absolutely. At Missionvale? Most certainly, if they would have me.