The Little Things That Count

In my very first sociology class at Yale, we read a passage that said that every student goes into the major wanting to change the world. Every student then leaves the major more aware of how the world works, of how complicated the world’s problems really are, and realizes that it’s not that easy to change things. Despite the pessimistic introduction, I kept my (naïve? misguided?) hopefulness and studied societies and their problems. But there is only so much you can read and this Reach Out trip has allowed me to get out from behind my computer screen and books. Working here in South Africa, I have come to face everything I only thought about in theory. Also, and more importantly, it has been a wonderful opportunity to give back.

When I first got to Power Child and Women for Peace I really didn’t know what to expect. By volunteering on the ground level rather than in an NGO or in some type of administrative body I got to see how development work actually looks like on a day to day basis for the people receiving aid. Most of the day involves simple tasks like peeling fruits and vegetables or throwing a soccer ball back and forth with a group of kids. And it’s the little things that count – and that are sometimes surprisingly hard. One day, I spent an hour trying to get a little girl to read a short book, fighting my urge to yawn and always trying to sound encouraging. Another time I tried, in vain, not to fall as six or seven three-year-olds all jumped on top of me, each one wanting to be carried. I really wanted to pamper all of them but at times I was absolutely overwhelmed and exhausted.

And yet – call me corny – it’s also the little things that have made this experience so enriching. A couple of little boys showed me that puzzle pieces are not actually puzzle pieces but make for great steering wheels and imaginary car races. I gave paper and crayons to a group of giggling kindergarteners who all drew funny cartoons of me. On another day, we all learned how to play duck-duck-goose in Xhosa, the language spoken in the township we worked at. Actually, we didn’t learn it that well, we were all teased hopelessly for mispronouncing things and getting the clicking noise wrong. Still, it was the cultural similarities more than anything else that made this experience so special. I was struck by how easy it was to relate with and get close to the children at both the institutions we volunteered in. The world may be complicated and messy, these kids and I are incredibly different which is unfair and unjustifiable. But on the ground level, in the day to day, we’re all so similar that I feel less embarrassed to admit that I’m still optimistic that the world can change.

- Isabel Jijon