Volunteering in Tanzania

 Our former volunteer Ondra is looking back at his voluntary service in Tanzania...

8 months without stress?

Sci-fi!

But no, it's just a stay in Africa. However, this is only the memory of a person who jumped into the European way of life, but the story of a volunteer started elsewhere.

Few of us would probably call the period of covid completely lucky, and so it was for me. We know, however, that God's ways are erratic and so, one cold winter afternoon after the turn of the year, which was particularly pronounced among the melancholy days, the would-be volunteer trudges home from school and reflects. A friend has just posted photos from a trip to Ethiopia... "Africa... what is it like? If I could, I'd go right now." Little did I know that once I got home, this would become a near reality. The first post after opening the computer says "looking for volunteers for a year in Africa!" - I couldn't resist a call like that!

A few months later when I opened the email box with the message "Ondra, you have been selected" a thought popped up something along the lines of "Yay! I'm going to Africa for a year... "wait"... "damn it"... I'm going to Africa for a year?!?!" Before I could snap out of my amazement, another few months passed, the uncertain future became a reality and I remained in a constant state of amazement throughout my time in Tanzania.

The best thing about equatorial Africa is time and the different perception of it. Every day has 12 hours of night and 12 hours of light, always in the same rhythm. The days are pretty much the same. "Deadlines" do not exist. Is there no electricity today? Maybe it will be tomorrow? You don't get home today and you have to sleep in a hostel? Well, will you come tomorrow? In a certain rhythm, day after day, the work on the projects went by, the many friendships with the locals deepened, and the time of our stay was also cut short.

The emotions were overwhelming, from the euphoria of finding a forgotten cocoa Pikao left behind by former volunteers to the devastating sadness of a student's death, the feelings of hopelessness at the never-ending indigestion after consuming Ugali, and the dismay at bumping into a mamba on the way home from school. However, there was never a feeling of stress, and that was liberating. I can't wait to go again to see the amazing Dongobeshi people and this feeling.

Ondra Linhart