‘Well, if you feel like you should go volunteer in South Africa, then go.’ I starred at the screen of my iPhone, reading the words from my mother over and over again in disbelief. I had been talking about volunteering in South Africa for months, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to spend the only extra money I had on a flight.
All it took was that one push, from the one person who could ever make me feel like I was brave enough to go through with one of my many crazy ideas. ‘Then go’, she said. So I did.
When I arrived in the small, shanty town of Muizenberg, I had no idea what I had gotten myself into. A million thoughts ran through my mind like, ‘What if the kids don’t like me?’, ‘What if the other volunteers don’t like me?’, ‘What if I don’t find whatever it is I came here to look for?’
Then I remembered something. I did it. I left my social bubble in L.A., scrounged up as much money as I could, and came to volunteer with kids in an impoverished area in Africa. Involuntarily, a smile made its way across my face as I lay in my bunk bed in the gravely cold volunteer house, waiting to meet the kids at school in the morning.
When we arrived, dark, threatening storm clouds made the already glum schoolyard look even more depressing, but something about the way the darkness contrasted with the building made it seem bright. I felt a pit of nervousness in my stomach as I realized I was about to meet the kids for the first time.
Diiiing! The shrill sound of a bell rang and suddenly, all the doors of the rickety school flew open, and out poured dozens and dozens of tiny uniform-clad children. My heart started racing, wondering how I was supposed to introduce myself to them.
“Teacha! Teacha!” Before I had time to think, a swarm of little kids surrounded my waist, grabbing my hands in theirs and latching onto me like I was their mother. They’re holding my hand! I thought, instantly filled with love and gratitude for these tiny people who I had only just met.
“Teacha! What is your name?”
After slowly annunciating my name and asking theirs in return, I spent the rest of recess doing the same for dozens of other kids that would run up and jump on me without thinking twice.
I had never felt such pure, unquestionable, undeniable love before in my entire life. I had also never felt love at first sight, but in that moment, I knew it was real. These kids, who live in tin shacks, who have one outfit to wear and hardly anything to eat, found happiness simply by holding my hand. They loved me without knowing anything about me; they loved me just because I was there. I admired them because they loved in general, and opened their hearts and minds to not just me, but people from all over the world that were there to volunteer as well.
Suddenly, there was nowhere else in the world I would have rather been than on that cold, gloomy, muddy playground.
I had felt love, and for the first time, I wasn’t afraid of not knowing where I was, or what I was doing, I just wanted to be there, with them. I had fallen in love with these kids, and I had fallen in love with South Africa.
I woke up every morning, in the numbingly cold and drizzling weather, excited to see the powerful mountains that prominently stood guard of the seemingly fragile town, and the smiling faces of the happiest kids I had ever met. The days flew by, my heart growing more and more by the minute.
On my last day at the school in Muizenberg, I walked along a row of half-buried tires, holding the hands of a small first-grade girl and boy as they tight-roped along the tires in the uttermost excitement. We didn’t speak other than the occasional, “Good job!” but they insisted on continuing to walk along the tires.
“You know,” the little girl said in a small, sweet voice, “you don’t have to leave, you can stay here with us!” My stomach wrenched and all of the air left my lungs as my heart broke into a million pieces. I glanced down at her tiny face, my blue eyes meeting her pleading, honey-brown eyes.
“I wish I could,” I choked, realizing that I really meant it, “I’ll come back one day.” I whispered, hating thinking that it might be a lie. But knowing it was enough to encourage me to try.
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