Like many students, Philippa Robson took a gap year, but she could never have predicted how profoundly it would change her. She talks to Women's Editor Sarah Foster about her time in Ethiopia and how it's prompted a campaign to buy 3,000 pairs of shoes
IT'S clear from meeting Philippa Robson that she's still on quite a high. She's just come back from Addis Ababa, where she spent the best part of a year, and though her body may be here - she's at her parents' house in Saltburn - in her mind she's still immersed in the experiences she's had.
An open laptop on the table shows the pictures that she took and she does not take much persuading to go through her favourite ones. They show the things you would expect: a lot of happy, brownskinned children unconcerned by being poor, and those of Philippa herself portray her pleasure in the scenes. She'd never dreamt how much the trip would make a difference to her life, and yet it's plain from all she says that its effect has been profound.
Like many thousands of young people, when Philippa reached the end of school, she chose to put off university and take a gap year. She and her good friend, Sarah Ferry, planned to go travelling together, and first of all thought they would go with one of many specialist firms. But when they realised the cost, they quickly had a change of heart.
"Luckily, there's a woman who lives and works in Addis who does a lot of charity work who's like a friend of a friend of the family. We got in touch with her and she said there were places if we would like to go over and we wouldn't have to pay," says Philippa, who's 19.
"She found a school that was able to take us on as English teachers."
The pair flew out a year ago, on September 7, 2006, not knowing quite what to expect. It was a massive culture shock when they arrived there late at night.
"It was very overwhelming," recalls Philippa. "There were what looked like black plastic bin bags everywhere and then I realised they were people. There were street kids just laid on the road. It was really bizarre. For the first two days I just cried. I thought people shouldn't have to live like this'."
There wasn't time for her to dwell on this for very long, however, before being plunged into the work that she was there to carry out. She'd thought she'd just be an assistant - but soon discovered her mistake.
"I thought I would just be helping with pronunciation and things and then when I got there it was like this is your class'," says Philippa. "I started to panic big time because I'd had no kind of warning.
I had no resources or anything, but I managed to improvise - there was a lot of singing and telling stories."
Both she and Sarah were attached to what, by Ethiopian standards, was quite a rich and well-run school. They each were given a different age group but decided they would swap. "Sarah got given the older ones and I got the little ones and for the first week, Sarah kept coming home saying I hate it. I can't deal with the older ones,' and I was like I can't deal with the little ones', so at the end of the first week we decided to swap," says Philippa.
The girls eventually split up, with Sarah going to New Zealand, leaving Philippa alone. She stayed for eight months overall, in which she grew to love the country, then left to travel in Australia where some relatives are based. When she returned to Addis Ababa for a stint of three more months she saw a very different side to education and to life.
"There's a hospital called Alert which is a centre for TB, leprosy and HIV/Aids victims and I decided to work in its educational scheme for students between 16 and 20," says Philippa.
"They had gone to the government school and failed their national exams, which are a bit like GCSEs, which meant they couldn't get a job and were told that they were failures as well as one or both their parents being victims of leprosy, Aids or HIV. As well as looking after their parents, brothers and sisters, they had to think of how they were going to get on with the rest of their lives."
Unlike her previous set of students, who thought of schooling as their right, she found the youngsters she now taught were more than grateful for their lessons. She ended up a well-known face among the teachers and the children and, being white, was highly prized as a great asset to the scheme.
It's clear that Philippa in turn felt very privileged to be there.
"The students were brilliant - they really inspired me," she says. "If I invited a kid to come to the front of the classroom, first of all they would say thank you for teaching me'. One question I asked was if you had $1m, what would you spend it on?' and they all said I'd build an orphanage'."
The most distressing thing she saw was not while teaching at the centre but on a day trip to the country. She stopped to look around a school and was appalled by its condition.
"It was a primary school and there was nothing - the classrooms were just falling down - but the kids were just so happy," recalls Philippa.
"They all wanted to touch me and shake my hands because I was white, and I noticed that out of about 3,000 students, four or five were wearing shoes. I thought of the amount of shoes I have at home that these kids could have. On the way back to Addis Ababa I didn't speak because if I had spoken I would have cried. I thought this time next year I want to raise money for 3,000 pairs of shoes'."
Now that she's back in the UK she hopes to further this ambition. It costs just 50p a pair to purchase shoes in Ethiopia, and she would like to raise the funds so she can buy them over there.
She says if everyone could see how much their money would make a difference she'd have no shortage of donations.
"When you've been there and you know it costs 50p for a kid's pair of shoes you want everyone to understand," says Philippa.
While she is shortly due to start a brand new chapter as a student - she'll study counselling and psychology at the University of York St John - she won't forget her year abroad and plans another trip quite soon. She says that now she's had a taste of what it's like in Addis Ababa she feels compelled to stay involved.
"It's a place that you can't just visit once," explains Philippa. "I feel like if I don't go back I'm just wasting myself - I'm able to go out there and help these people so why waste that?"
* For more information on the shoe appeal or to make a donation, email piprobson@gmail.com
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