Volunteering in a Poor Country Changed My Understanding of Happiness

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id="6a91">I arrived in the country with a volunteer placement already lined up, teaching English in the morning to adults. I wanted to fill my spare time, though, and learned about Msamaria (which in Swahili means ‘Good Samaritan’) through a poster in a local café.When I contacted the center I was invited to a farewell party they were holding that afternoon. It was for a father and daughter from the UK who had raised a significant sum for much-needed mattresses. Straightaway, I was made to feel welcome and began volunteering the very next day.Whilst I was there, Msamaria was home to sixty street children from the ages of 6 to 16 who had run away or been abandoned.I’m ashamed to admit the first thing I felt for them was pity.They had few toys. And the rags they wore would automatically be consigned to the bin of any charity shop. Every child washed their own clothes and took part in daily chores. Only a few possessed a toothbrush. Shoes were often mismatched.Despite all this, I soon discovered they had something sadly lacking in the western world. Eckhart Tolle, th

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e bestselling author of The Power of Now, would be immensely proud, as they lived for the moment (as did most of the people I met in Tanzania).One of the things I remember most from volunteering at Msamaria is the sound of laughter.Of course, there were squabbles, but love and friendship ruled supreme. The children looked out for one another and what little they had was shared willingly. Games were expertly created from cardboard and bottle tops, and bows and arrows from twigs and old rope.The tiniest of things brought them delight.If you came with marbles or paper and colored pencils you were their best friend. I once returned from the market with some second-hand teddy bears. To my surprise, it was the teenage boys who played with them the most, their smiles priceless.Needless to say, my three months abroad passed quickly. I shed more than a few tears when it was time to leave. Tanzania may be the poorest country I’ve visited, but their people were certainly the happiest. And the children of Msamaria displayed that quality in abundance.</article></body>

Life is not about making money or having more stuff.

“If you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.” — Roald Dahl

It was whilst volunteering in Tanzania, one of the world’s poorest countries, that I learned the true meaning of happiness.

I had recently been made redundant at my job, and the thought of competing with hundreds of others for the same roles filled me with dread.

I deserved a break and, at the same time, thought it would be nice to give something back.

Little did I realize how rewarding my three months away would be.

I arrived in the country with a volunteer placement already lined up, teaching English in the morning to adults. I wanted to fill my spare time, though, and learned about Msamaria (which in Swahili means ‘Good Samaritan’) through a poster in a local café.

When I contacted the center I was invited to a farewell party they were holding that afternoon. It was for a father and daughter from the UK who had raised a significant sum for much-needed mattresses. Straightaway, I was made to feel welcome and began volunteering the very next day.

Whilst I was there, Msamaria was home to sixty street children from the ages of 6 to 16 who had run away or been abandoned.

I’m ashamed to admit the first thing I felt for them was pity.

They had few toys. And the rags they wore would automatically be consigned to the bin of any charity shop. Every child washed their own clothes and took part in daily chores. Only a few possessed a toothbrush. Shoes were often mismatched.

Despite all this, I soon discovered they had something sadly lacking in the western world. Eckhart Tolle, the bestselling author of The Power of Now, would be immensely proud, as they lived for the moment (as did most of the people I met in Tanzania).

One of the things I remember most from volunteering at Msamaria is the sound of laughter.

Of course, there were squabbles, but love and friendship ruled supreme. The children looked out for one another and what little they had was shared willingly. Games were expertly created from cardboard and bottle tops, and bows and arrows from twigs and old rope.

The tiniest of things brought them delight.

If you came with marbles or paper and colored pencils you were their best friend. I once returned from the market with some second-hand teddy bears. To my surprise, it was the teenage boys who played with them the most, their smiles priceless.

Needless to say, my three months abroad passed quickly. I shed more than a few tears when it was time to leave. Tanzania may be the poorest country I’ve visited, but their people were certainly the happiest. And the children of Msamaria displayed that quality in abundance.