The fresh-faced school leaver, still in her teens, was as excited as she was apprehensive to be arriving in the east African village. Recruited to teach in the community school, the young Briton would be using her holiday to make, she hoped, a genuine impact. But she quickly found herself shunned by the villagers, who refused to engage with her teaching.
After three distressing days, she packed up and left. Only later did it become apparent what had happened: to make space for this callow, enthusiastic and — most pertinently — free volunteer, the local teacher had been fired.
Tales such as this, relayed by an industry insider who helped handle the fallout and wanted to remain anonymous, may be mercifully rare. But, still, they serve as a reminder that, however well intentioned voluntourism may be at the point of inspiration, the reality on the ground is often much more nuanced. To subvert the popular supermarket slogan: every little doesn’t necessarily help.
Voluntourism first emerged at scale in the 1990s, partly as a reaction to the ubiquity and, to some, vacuity of mass-market package tourism. Like an abridged version of a gap year placement, the practice sees travellers augment or even supplant their getaway
