My deep rooted hate for people of privilege setting off to vulnerable communities to 'save the world', stems from nothing more than my very own privileged experience of such.
Through my academic studies, I've learned the critical importance of firsthand experiences, especially when it comes to topics within the development sector.
Development is a dynamic field that constantly evolves, and for meaningful change to occur, it’s essential to learn from past mistakes. With this in mind, I’d like to share my own story. I believe many others can relate to my experience or know someone who has faced similar challenges.
4o mini
At the end of 2015, I was an 18-year-old searching for direction. Like many others at that age, I felt lost and believed that traveling thousands of kilometers to 'help' those I perceived as less fortunate would provide the answers I sought.
The problem was, they hadn’t asked for my help.
With only a high school certificate to my name, I arrived in Tanzania brimming with naive hopes and aspirations. I had signed up with International Volunteer Headquarters (IVHQ), a program renowned for offering affordable volunteer trips that promised a transformative experience.
I was drawn in by emotionally charged videos—otherwise known as 'poverty porn'—and the allure of a rewarding holiday that promised to 'give back.'
It seemed like the perfect opportunity for someone young and eager but lacking in knowledge. In hindsight, it was a well-crafted business scheme known as 'voluntourism.'
At 18, I was placed in one of IVHQ Tanzania’s newer partnerships: an orphanage near Arusha. Alongside a friend, I was expected to work there for three weeks.
The orphanage housed 16 children aged 4 to 12, with more arriving daily for classes.
Summarizing my experience is challenging, but I’ll attempt to outline it clearly:
From the outset, we noticed severe issues: abuse, neglect, and exploitation. Our first red flag was discovering that the supplies we brought for the children had vanished, only to be found at the owner's home, intended for his daughter.
Soon, the teacher who had been conducting classes stopped showing up, leaving my friend and me responsible for over 30 children each day. I was only 18, with no training or experience to manage such a situation.
We quickly realized that the 'classes' were a facade—possibly a way to keep the orphanage operational or to attract more volunteers. This revelation highlighted the negative impact of our presence.
With the teacher gone, the children’s only meal—lunch—was no longer provided. We discovered that this was the sole meal they received. Our attempts to feed them resulted in basic, insufficient meals like a sugar and flour mix.
Nearby, a new building was under construction, funded by previous volunteers. We found chickens and cows—also donated by volunteers—but it was unclear where their produce was going, as the children were often unfed.
Neglect and abuse were prevalent, but the physical abuse from nighttime carers was harder to detect. We discovered a logbook showing that the children had only received beds and toothbrushes a month before our arrival, while the new construction had solar panels and elaborate plans in place. This disparity raised further questions.
One morning, we saw children scrubbing classroom floors with their own clothes, and hygiene issues were rampant. Children used dishwashing liquid to clean themselves, causing skin burns. A young girl suffering from severe ringworm had her treatment hidden to prevent it from being stolen.
We learned that most of the children had living parents or relatives, contrary to the orphanage’s claims. This was the case for every child except one.
The program also included a safari tour, which we were encouraged to take by IVHQ. This diverted us from our duties at the orphanage and was presented as part of the 'adventure' aspect of the program. The safari exposed the exploitation of Indigenous Masai tribes, who performed traditional dances and relied on tourist purchases for income—turning sacred cultural practices into tokenistic displays.
When our three weeks ended, I left with a broken heart—not because I couldn’t help, but because my presence had contributed to the children’s neglect. What was meant to be a rewarding experience for me had been at their expense, creating dependency and exacerbating their suffering.
I hope sharing my story doesn’t come across as just an isolated incident. Statistics reveal that 80% of orphans globally have at least one surviving parent or relative. In Nepal, 90% of orphanages are concentrated in Kathmandu, a popular tourist spot. Over the past decade, orphanages in Cambodia have increased by 75% due to voluntourism.
Western Australian Senator Linda Reynolds highlights the broader issue: "In Australia, we understand the negative impacts of children in residential care. We should not support similar institutions overseas when community-based options exist. Orphanage operators often coerce parents to give up their children, offering a better life than the parents can provide."
Australia has recognized orphanage tourism as a form of modern slavery under the 'Modern Slavery Act,' which requires businesses earning over $100 million to disclose anti-slavery procedures.
My volunteer experience was, in essence, a paid holiday. It perpetuated a cycle of dependency and supported corrupt practices. Greed and exploitation continue to thrive in such programs, and there’s little incentive for organizations like IVHQ to change.
Despite raising concerns with IVHQ, no action was taken, and the orphanage remains operational, possibly still receiving volunteers.
I rarely spoke of this experience due to the shame and emotional impact it had on me. However, it’s crucial to share these stories to combat destructive tourism. Children are not tourist attractions.
For more information about orphanage tourism please visit ReThink Orphanages- Orphanage Volunteering:
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