Working at Aanchal obviously requires great strength of character. Sudarshan Bhuhi, herself a victim of domestic violence, set up Aanchal as a volunteer to support other victims of domestic abuse, finding that the community was often turning a deaf ear, while families could be openly hostile to interference from outside the family unit.  Nearly 30 years and one MBE later, the organisation is highly respected for its work.

Not quite knowing what to expect from Aanchal’s offices, I wasn’t actually sure I’d found the right place when I rang the doorbell of a vaguely tumbledown terrace in Ilford.  Google Maps hadn’t deceived me this time though; Aanchal’s windows are purposefully not populated with posters advertising what they do. That way, clients can walk through the front door without publicising it to the street. When Aanchal began, men used to tell each other not to let their wives walk down that particular street, because “Aanchal would change them”.

Inside, Aanchal’s offices and counselling rooms are unglamorous but as bright and chipper as the staff I meet. There is a back garden with toys in it and an air of calm activity pervades that I think must be encouraging for clients. Often Aanchal helps women whose reputation has been discredited back at home by her spouse’s family – and acts as her only proponent. We hear about one client whose parents in India had ceased contact with their abused daughter because they believed the negative rumors about her and felt she had brought dishonour on the family.  It is only through Aanchal that this family has heard the other side of the story and come to believe their daughter and to take pride in what she has achieved in the UK on her own. Sudarshan now aspires to setting up an Aanchal education project in India to work with women before they leave for the UK.

Aanchal’s policy is ‘never to say no’ as they know that they have often been someone’s last hope, but they are stretched by the demand for their services. An increasing pool of volunteers helps, and enables their helpline – phone and online – to operate in seven languages. 

It is both a triumph and a great sadness that Aanchal is dealing with more cases than ever. Our client’s grant and other support from funders like Barclays Capital is clearly hugely appreciated by this organisation.

Dilbur Parakh, the founder of Aseema, began her career as a lawyer in Mumbai’s High Court. During a fellowship in Thailand, she undertook research on child trafficking in the region before joining the International Commission of Jurists in Geneva as their legal Officer for Asia and the Pacific. Here Dilbur participated in fact-finding missions to Burma, Kashmir, the Philippines, East Timor and Japan.

When she returned to India in 1995 to undertake research on child labour, it became clear to her that that although legislation to prohibit child labour existed, it was rarely implemented. Education, or rather the absence of it, was at the root of the problem. Dilbur sought to identify practical ways to tackle the issue by founding the Aseema Educational Trust.

Since then, Aseema has provided high quality education to Mumbai’s most vulnerable children, in particular, street children and those living in slum communities. I am eager to see what changes there have been and how the organisation has developed since I was last here.

Unfortunately,  I do not get to see Dilbur, Aseema’s founder, who is currently in Igatpuri, a rural area three hours from Mumbai. Aseema have established an education centre for tribal children there, to facilitate holistic learning and vocational training for 150 tribal children. Teacher training programmes are also offered. The initiative was implemented during my visit to ASEEMA, so it is wonderful to hear that it has developed so successfully.

In Dilbur’s absence, we are greeted by the extremely efficient, Saana. Before we visit Aseema’s initiatives, Saana explains the history and context of their work to bring Aparna fully up to speed and refresh my memory.

Half an hour later, we pile into the car and drive to Santa Cruz to visit the Khar-Danda Municipal School in which ASEEMA operate pre-primary, primary and secondary education programmes. They began operating here in 2007, building on the success of an earlier collaboration with the government in Pali-Chimbai Municipal School, which is now regarded as a model of good practice.

As in Pali-Chimbai, the school building was, before ASEEMA’s involvement, dilapidated. Today the school has been fully renovated to create an atmosphere that is vibrant, appealing, fun, relaxed, inspiring and safe. Children have been central to this process and their artwork is proudly displayed in the corridors.

We visit three classrooms, a chemistry laboratory and the staff room, speaking to teachers and students, before proceeding to the pre-primary programme.

It is their pre-primary programme that really sticks in my mind. Aseema opened the first Montessori Centre for street children in India in August 2000 to develop a strong educational foundation for children to enter mainstream education. Here, three classrooms of students between the ages of 3 and 6 ½ eat, play and learn.

Busy beading bee

They are wrapped in concentration building pink towers, pouring water from one cup into another and stringing beads with such concentration it looked as if the world might end if the little boy stringing a necklace was to miss the string. Saana explained the principles of Montessori and the methods we were seeing. The concentration and quietness, typical of Montessori classrooms, was like none I have seen in a pre-primary before.  It was mesmerising.

As we left the school and continued to ASEEMA’s product division, a ten-minute drive away, we learnt that children are offered a menu of extra curricular activities including art, yoga, music and judo. The intention behind this is to enhance children’s all round development and encourage them to remain in school.

We leave ASEEMA, stopping briefly at the Products Division where art is transformed into saleable products such as coasters, mouse mats and business card holders. The aim of this is to both generate funding for educational activities and to enhance the children’s self esteem. We are impressed by what we see and delighted to speak to a charming art teacher who is infectiously enthusiastic about the initiative and the products for sale here.

As we leave the project, three hours later and with a bag full of presents from the Products division, I reflect on the visit. It is so heartening to return to a project five years on and to see that it has not only retained its strengths, but also built on them. ASEEMA are, without a doubt, an exceptional organisation.

On route to project sites, about an hour from Krishnagiri, Tamil Nadu

72% of India’s population today are threatened by the unpredictability of agricultural yields owing to changing weather patterns. Agriculture accounts for 18% of India’s GDP.

Today we travelled 3 hours from Bangalore to visit the DHAN Foundation’s Rainfed Agriculture Project, helping local farmers increase their yields through better practices. It has been implemented in 12 locations in six states since 2002.

Rainfed agriculture refers to agricultural crops that are reliant on rainwater for their growth. In India, it covers 68% of the total net sown area in 177 districts. Others use irrigation methods which exploit groundwater deposits. Before one wouldn’t have to dig more than ten inches below the surface and now, wells 20 feet deep are stone dry.

Knowing it would be a real day in the field, I prepared myself by slathering anti-mosquito lotion on, packing tissues and hand sanitizer.

The most arduous part of the drive out was getting out of Bangalore city. Once on the

Highly nutritious millet that Dhan is encouraging farmers to grow again with the support of a Canadian university

highway, the roads cleared and the journey was fast. Upon coming into Tamil Nadu, the flavour of South India wafted through the abundance of palm trees and small hills on either side of the highway.

We arrived in Krishnagiri where Dhan’s main office is after two hours and stopped to speak with some of the office staff. I was introduced to Kalaivani, one of the project managers, a young girl who would be taking me around the project sites in the field.

On route to the projects sites I chatted to Kalaivani. An engineer by trade, she found the job with DHAN after graduation. She spoke about the work she does and how she loves working in the field, meeting with the farmers and helping them.

Once we arrived we met with about four other team members and headed into the fields. We walked past beautiful mud huts with thatched roofs, some painted light blue and others with the natural red colour of the mud. We met with some of the project associates. These are people from the village that the community appoints as leaders of the DHAN programme. DHAN liaises with them, teaches them the skills and appoints them to create farmer groups. We met over fresh coconuts, watermelon and biscuits.

I was then shown around the farms. They pointed out the areas which DHAN had supported them with. There were stone bunds, land levelling sites, a rainwater catchment pond and fields of different crops.

Dhan Foundation

One of the defining aspects of DHAN’s work is its community engagement. It focuses on poverty eradication and the democratization of people at a grassroots level. This means that the community is given responsibility over the project that DHAN helps implement.

With the agricultural support programme, the farmers approach DHAN with issues they are having and then receive support. This programme works with a total of 3,000 families. 50% of the farmers are women.

We stopped for lunch at one of the houses. Banana leaves were laid out in front of us and rice and sambar was served. I looked around as everyone started eating – without cutlery. So as not to make a fuss, I tried to copy. After about ten minutes someone handed me a spoon.

We finished lunch in true Indian style by about 3pm then attended one of DHAN’s microfinance group meetings. The participants of the group were all from farmer families and mostly women. They were happy to speak of the benefits of the programme. It helped them save money – about Rs.3550 per year per family and saved them from paying the high interest rates that loan sharks would charge them.

The knock on effect of having sustainable agricultural production is huge. Parents are nourished which in turn leads to children being nourished; healthy children are then able to learn effectively in school, theoretically leading them to a good job. The educated youth can then perpetuate the cycle of health, nourishment and education.

Olivia Smart

Michael Cinco

We were overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of every designer we approached to participate in the show. All were so happy to give their time and lend clothing to help the disadvantaged children in their country. Having met with many of the designers whilst we were in Manila, we then contacted others who have developed their businesses abroad: in New York, London and Dubai. Again the same wonderful, kind and generous response. Josie Natori Couture sent from New York, not so far for our London-based designers: Jasper Garvida, Lesley Mobo and Mich Dulce. Our wonderful team in Manila – Jackie Aquino and Mia Borromeo – brought most of the Manila-based designers’ clothing, but we were especially honoured that Lulu Tan Gan and Wynn Wynn Ong made the journey themselves to be with us for the occasion. And last – but by no means least – Michael Cinco came with his stunning couture from Dubai.

Wynn Wynn Ong

The show was divided into two parts: the first section was modelled by professional models, who came from both London and Manila. This showcased the stunning and luxurious quality of Filipino design. Opening the show was the magical world of Wynn Wynn Ong. Her breath-taking collection of jewellery and bags, inspired by her adopted country (she’s originally from Burma), soon had many new devotees who were happy to find it was also for sale on the night. Her collections usually sell out immediately when launched in Manila – we can certainly see why.

Lulu Tan Gan’s luxurious resortwear followed. Her innovative

Lulu Tan Gan

creations using pina, a fibre originating from the pineapple plant, together with her trademark knitwear soon has us all contemplating our next travels to warmer climes. A perfect example of how to look effortlessly chic when traveling, at home or abroad.

Next up was Lesley Mobo – a cutting edge young designer now based in London. His exquisite use of lace and tulle in fresh summery colours brought a young and playful vibe to the catwalk. No wonder the celebrities all love to wear his designs!

Leslie Mobo

Hot on his heels came the other London based designers: Jasper Garvida showed a strong collection in black and white with metallic hues of silver and oversized pockets. His clever use of sequin embroidery created a 3D effect. Topping off his designs was the extraordinary millinery of Mich Dulce. Much loved the world over – and with one of her celebrated fans there on the night, Adam Ant – her masterpieces perfectly symbolised the spirit of the evening.

Jasper Garvida, Mich Dulce

The show simply would not have been complete without Rajo Laurel, the most in demand fashion designer in the Philippines. His gorgeous eveningwear taken from his Russian inspired collection left us all wishing we could run out and buy. He also designed the coolest barongs with hues of grey for our male models and a beautiful collection of chic cocktail wear for our female models for one night, which was shown in the second part of the show.

Rajo Laurel

A sumptuous capsule collection of eveningwear followed from Randy Ortiz, one of Manila’s most exciting and innovative leading designers. Famed for providing glamour, his designs were equally at home on our white catwalk as they usually are on a red carpet.

Randy Ortiz

Michael Cinco

The next designer to appear quite literally took everyone’s breath away. Dubai-based Michael Cinco’s laser cut and embroidered gowns proved that haute couture is alive and well far away from the streets of Paris. Mesmerising, electrifying and utterly breath-taking – these exquisite, hand-crafted and labour-intensive dresses won an army of fans who clamoured to find out where they could buy.

Cebu-based couturier Cary Santiago closed the show with another jaw dropping collection of stunning eveningwear. His exquisite collection of black heavily embroidered long evening dresses were the perfect ending to what had been an incredible display of Philippine design and had shown that it had its own place on the world stage of leading fashion design.

Cary Santiago

The second part of the show had a more fun and light hearted feel as our sponsored models took to the catwalk. Designers who also provided eye catching outfits for them to wear included Lulu Tan Gan and Rajo Laurel. New to the catwalk however was Josie Natori Couture, who sent beautiful embroidered kaftans from New York in a vibrant display

Josie Natori

of colours. From pink and orange, to yellow and purple with gold sequin embroidery, they instantly banished the grey from London.

Bergamo and Silk Cocoon ensured our dashing gentlemen looked every bit as glamorous as the ladies in their wonderful barong tagalogs. Whether infused with colour or taking on a more natural palette, these outfits were so loved by the guys that they were asking to buy them afterwards. However we were delighted to see that they didn’t constrain their ability to move on the catwalk and their choreographed routines brought smiles to all who watched.

The last designer to show his collection was Jun Escario. He dressed our lovely ladies in a beautiful collection of short and long

Jun Escario

eveningwear, showing why he is so popular amongst the society set back home.

Bergamo

The finale of the evening encapsulated all the preceding elements in a fun, fabulous and fashionable finish. Angela and Leigh wowed the audience in their exquisite short white laser cut dresses by Michael Cinco, but it was James Roditi, who had so bravely agreed to wear Michael’s white tuxedo jacket with crystal embroidered neckpiece, who was about to steal the show. The playful choreography saw Leigh and Angela remove James’ jacket to reveal the silver codpiece that had caught our attention at Michael’s show in Manila all those months ago. A true testament to the versatility of Filipino design!

Michael Cinco

Slum Housing made of Bamboo, Navotas 2010

The idea for the London Philippine Fashion Show was inspired by a field trip to the Philippines in 2010. Prospero’s reseach team went to Manila to  learn about microfinance and to visit a range of charities, amongst others,  the Ayala Foundation. Their outstanding education projects immediately captured our imagination. The fieldtrip led to a partnership with the Ayala Foundation and we wished to raise their profile in the UK while also generating funds for their projects.

During our research, we had a brief moment of respite visiting some Philippine designer shops in the Greenbelt 5 shopping mall. This surprising interlude is what led, a year and a half later, to the realization that London had little idea of the beauty and originality of Philippine design, and that we could change this by putting on a fashion show.

James Roditi

Veera Johnson and Katie Booth, Templewood Merchant Bank

The idea to have ‘real’ models help us with fundraising and to become Ambassadors for the cause was a result of meetings with Katie Booth, formerly at Butterfield Private Bank, now a partner at Templewood Merchant Bank. We realized she was someone who could lead the way, as long as she thought it was a good enough idea: fortunately, she did!

These were the seeds of the project. We started work in earnest in September 2011 and went back to Manila during the Philippine Fashion week, this time to elicit the participation of the designers. During this week, we went to the Michael Cinco Show, sponsored by L’Oreal. As we sat, watching the sparkling princess gowns floating by and the men in silver codpieces, I remember thinking that this was a far cry from our last trip, where we had walked past the many white coffins in Tondo, where the victims of the previous typhoon lay while members of their families and friends gambled in order to raise enough money for funeral costs. When, during the finale of the Cinco show, golden flakes fell in showers from the ceiling, and the L’Oreal man sitting to my right turned to me and said ‘Welcome to Manila’, I thought how brilliant it would be if we could bring this experience to London, while still helping the poverty-stricken in the farther reaches of the country. The extremes of our experience could be brought together and benefit all involved.

Leigh Carcel Deutsche Bank Manila, in Michael Cinco

8 months after this, we had got together a stupendous group of supporters and sponsors, and when ticket sales went live, they were sold out in a week: both the VIP tickets at £1000 and the £150 standard tickets.

Christian Sommerhalder, Credit Suisse

Our Gold sponsor was Nokia, Silver sponsors were Credit Suisse Singapore and the Broadwall Foundation, UK, with Ethihad Airways, Huawei and Amdocs coming in as Bronze sponsors. Much additional support was provided by the fashion industry with free hair, make-up and goodie bags provided by leading companies in their field.

The 12 sponsored models who helped us to fundraise, came from all over the city of London, apart from two who came from Singapore and Manila.

Many said afterwards that it was one of the best days of their lives. Dr Victoria Owen was overheard saying how she enjoyed having her arms creamed before stepping up on the catwalk and Richard McShee was particularly pleased to have his own dresser and make-up artist.

Richard McShee, London Business School

Leigh Carcel flew in from Manila the same morning as the show, and was rather dazzling and at ease in black  Jun Escario and white Michael Cinco.

Anton Alvarez, no stranger to performance, did not need as much encouragement as some of the shy-er volunteers, such as Anna Louisa Psarras, Prospero World, who normally wears Ugg boots and has been known to dress like a sprite.

Alex Gaillard from J.P Morgan private bank has been, it appears, converted and ready for more modelling assignments.

Alex Gaillard, J.P Morgan Private bank

What is truly brilliant however, is that the 12 models between them, raised £55,000 and in the process, learned about Philippine design and have been exposed to the excellent work of the Ayala Foundation. All this was possible because of the participation of the outstanding Filippino designers who all generously gave their collections and their time in aid of the Centex programme.

After the fashion show, Philip Mould, a stalwart friend of Prospero’s, led the auction. Comapanies such as Amman resorts, Six Senses, Small Luxury Hotels of the World, Shangrila Hotsl, Cerno Capital, Policy Exchange, Galleria Conti and many others showed their support by offering prizes. The Bank of Singapore guests outdid themselves and outbid most other bidders, winning amongst other things, a field trip to Burma with Prospero.  The total raised is estimated at £150,000 with the last costs being dealt with as we write. That means we have helped around 450 children to either access or remain in first-class, life-changing education.

Katie Booth wearing Lulu Tan Gan

The fashion show was a way of trying to engage people from all different walks of life. We had designers, education specialists, companies interested in being known in Asia, companies wishing to show their support of their clients in the Philippines. It was a perfect illustration of the whole being more than the sum of the parts.

Prospero is now launching its Cornucopia Club bringing  people together who have in common the desire to create change, to improve lives around them, and to stay in touch with the latest creative implementations in the world of development. Part of the offering of The Cornucopia Club are the quarterly

Angela Grant

Philanthropic Salons, exclusive sociable gatherings where expert insights, intellectual debate and artistic inspiration illuminate contemporary issues.

The organization was founded in 1984 by Joycus Joyce and his wife Philomena to promote the rights of children. Specifically, their aim was to help street children and child labourers. Today, they remain true to their roots but have expanded their work to three areas of Karnataka where, as well as working with children, their programmes seek to empower women, promote health and foster grassroots democracy in urban slums and rural areas.

The cynical side of me doubts that their work and mission will differ significantly from thousands of other NGOs boasting similar claims. Yet instinctively, I feel that there is something special about RLHP.

I am not disappointed.

When we arrive, Joycus leads us to a dimly lit, shabbily painted, electric blue office where he patiently explains the work and history of RLHP to us. An hour later, he leads us to a large, hot, scuffed room, one floor up. Here we are presented firstly, with bunches of roses and then with cups of lime tea. Twenty  or so staff members are sitting in a semi circle, patiently waiting to present their work formally to us. Each has benefitted from the organisation’s work. All are Dalit’s, members of the Untouchable caste.

Members of RHLP's Women's Empowerment Sangha

Today, the team work in 56 slums and 25 villages in Mysore, Madya and Chamaranjanagar. Of the 56 slums, 51 are now free of child labour as a result of RLHP’s work. Through two residential rehabilitation homes for street children, resource and training centres, as well as through their outreach and slum clean-up programmes, RLHP works in communities of 65,000 Dalit’s each year.

I am impressed by the extraordinary efforts of this modest team. Their expenditure last year was in the region of £100,000.

As we leave the centre, we pass through the first slum RLHP cleaned up in 1984. It looks in truth, more like a Mediterranean Disneyland Paradise than a slum, with its brightly coloured buildings, clean passageways and plant pots. It is extraordinary. Unlike any slum I have ever seen.

Thirty minutes and 10km later, we are back in more familiar territory. Open sewers, lean to shacks, improvised shelters and piles of rubbish define, what is referred to as “Block C”. As I am led to a non-formal pre primary school, children leap about in the centre’s shade. Slum parents bring their children here daily while they are out working.

Leaving the centre, we walk around the slum and I learn that RLHP are campaigning to improve facilities in the slum and have permanent housing built. Their efforts have already paid off.

Water taps have been put in, in Block C providing the community with fresh drinking water, albeit available for only a few hours a week. It is a start.

There is much to be done. But thinking of the Disneyland paradise we have just left, I have no doubt that RLHP will replicate their impressive efforts here.

We leave the putrifying heat and travel on to the Girl’s Residential Home a further 15km away. Here, 20 of the girls are waiting to greet us and share their experiences. Some have been abandoned. Some orphaned. Others abused.

Mysore's Slums

600 children like them have been rehabilitated by RLHP since it began, through interventions such as these. I sit down as the girls share their stories with me. I am struck by the familial environment in which they live and the confidence with which they speak. They dance. They sing. They laugh. And one hides behind a curtain.

After two hours, I leave the centre and return home to pack my suitcase once again. Later that night, as I bounce from side to side, this time in my bunk on the overnight train to Chennai, I turn over in my head exactly WHAT the magic ingredient in RHLP’s work is. Because despite my suspicions, they ARE different. They ARE special. I was wrong.

It isn’t just that they have rescued 3,500 child labourers. Or that they have coordinated 10,000 women into empowerment groups.

It is not even that they have improved the literacy rates in the slums in which they work from 3% in 1989 to 97.5% in 2008.

Beyond it all, RLHP are special because their campaigns, advocacy and lobbying are integral to their work. Simply put, they will settle for no less than significant, lasting change. Sometimes to the detriment of themselves as Joycyus highlighted when he was arrested for protesting against child labour and exploitation in 2001.

For this he was imprisoned and grounded when the government confiscated his passport. Eleven years later, his passport has not been returned. But this, Joycyus takes in his stride. His response? “If they wont let me travel abroad, I will put all my energy into the work I do here”. And that he has.

The city of Bangalore is the first stop on the agenda for Prospero’s second fieldtrip to India.

I am working with photographer and close friend John Isaac for this week in Bangalore as he is from the South of India, and was keen to show me an organisation here. In the car he tells me about one of his visits to a city called Tirunelveli, a place where people from the lowest ranks of the untouchable or ‘dalit’ caste live. They are not allowed to be seen and can only leave their villages to come out to work at night.

The caste system prevails strongly here. Between 15-22% of Bangalore’s population of 8.5 million is made up of scheduled tribes, compared to none registered in Delhi.

Women here are still at risk of falling into the ‘devadasi’ system where girls are forced to dedicate themselves to a temple deity: these girls live in the temple, learn to dance and sexually service the village men. Any chance to leave and work elsewhere is virtually nil, unless it is for prostitution. It is estimated that over 250,000 of the women dedicated to temples in Maharashtra and Karnataka are Dalits.

Visthar is a charity working in the outskirts of Bangalore and dedicated to fighting the social structures that perpetuate discrimination. The organisation’s 6 acres of land have an incredible peace and calm to them. Mirroring their belief of sustainable development, the buildings are 90% made of mud. Indigenous paintings decorate the walls and symbolise an integral relationship with nature.
Primarily an educational NGO, Visthar has numerous programmes. Its income generating activities consist of courses for students from all over the world on gender issues, discrimination and child rights. These courses last from three days to three months. Fees from these courses subsidise Visthar’s work with children rescued from the Devadasi system and a new community college for Dalit teens.

The Bhandavi programme has rescued about 100 girls from being forced into the devadasi and houses about 70 of them on campus. They attend school and extracurricular activities at Visthar. During our visit to the campus the girls put on an exceptional theatre performance illustrating the life of a Devadasi girl as a child pre-puberty and then as a teen, post-puberty. It illustrated the brutality and exploitation of early marriage and isolation during menstruation. The girls, not more than nine years old, understood that what was going on in their villages was not right. They were determined to get an education and not be forced into marriage.

We also had the chance to meet and speak with the students from the community college. They are the first batch of students as the project is only six months old. Mostly girls, the students were about 17-18 years old. All of them had come from a Dalit family and experienced tremendous injustice and discrimination growing up. They spoke of how they used to believe the caste system was their fate; after studying at Visthar, they all had dreams of changing the system and fighting in the struggle for liberation and equality.

When reading about the social injustice in India, it is easy to feel overwhelmed and helpless in the face of its deep-rooted traditions. Meeting the students at Visthar however put India’s future in a new light. The students were fearless, passionate and determined. They had aspirations, dreams of a revolutionary struggle and they saw themselves in their heroes. Most poignant to me was the boys’ reaction to women’s rights. Boys whom had never questioned girls’ status as second-class citizens admitted to feeling disbelief and empathy when studying women’s issues.

Every two years Visthar will graduate about 20 students determined to change the evils in Indian society. It is a small number in the face of the 200 million dalits in the country, but it’s a start. One social entrepreneur can change the lives of thousands.

Anyone who has spent time in the developing world will be familiar with what I decided to term the Pied Piper effect, the involuntary entourages of small children, who tug enthusiastically away at coat tails with one hand, whilst upturning their other in a gesture of optimistic supplication. Stock phrases such as ‘Gimme Pen’ or ’ One Dollar’ pepper the African, Asian and South American air. Giving does little to relieve the frustration. It was during a recent trip to Northern Ethiopia that I began to think seriously about what “charity” means for me. It is not about alleviating guilt. The true source of charity lies in the idea of community.

Everyone develops their own method of dissolving the clusters of children who pursue them like Hamlyn’s entourage. Some ignore and push through the hoards, hoping the children will tire of the baiting and return to playing with their friends. Others shoo them away. In moments of sympathy, small change is tipped out of pockets into tiny hands. Then there are the moments of extreme generosity when free hotel pens may even be exchanged.

But this is not genuine charity. Giving to these children is born of frustration. Of wanting to be left alone. It is the same urge that makes me avoid the clipboard toting chuggers (charity muggers) soliciting for direct debits on Fleet Street. Whether on the streets of London or the streets of Africa, giving in this way is neither genuine nor heart-felt.

I, like others, care little for the umpteenth child I have seen that day. Nor for whatever cause is being touted by the clipboard activist. If I give small change, a pen or even my bank details, the exchange is born of guilt, not philanthropy.

‘They go and spend it on a Coca-Cola’ I was told by a city tour-guide ‘ Either that or on sweets. They are just kids, they don’t know any better.’ I understood immediately. There is nothing wrong with children chasing after tourists. It is a universal trait in children toseek out the opportunity for a treat. But for many adults in Ethiopia, the practice is an affront not simply to their pride as parents, but as Ethiopians.

I misjudged my budget for a weekend trip to the Monolithic Churches of Lalibela. With the remainder of my money nestling in the safe of my hotel room back in Addis, some 200km away, I found myself walking 15km, in the rain, to the airport the morning of my flight.

By chance the town’s guides were driving to the airport that morning to collect clients. On their way, they saw me staggering down the road, soaked. They picked me up, took me to the airport, fed me a hearty breakfast of injeera (Ethiopian sour bread) and lentils outside the terminal, before proceeding to have a whip round. Between the fifteen guides, they collected just over $15 which they handed to me for a taxi ride from the Airport in Addis Ababa and food during my journey. It was a striking gesture; it was clear that I didn’t need the money but would have caused offence had I not accepted it. As a stranger in their country, the community saw to it that I was safe. It was a sincere group act of charity towards a stranger.

That experience taught me that for me, charitable giving is not about being backed into a corner and guiltily dishing out pennies because you can. Charity is the coming together of people as a group to support someone or something that has neither the means nor proclivity to do so themselves. It’s about a community supporting strangers in need. This act can in itself, bind communities together.

There will always be children tugging on sleeves to see if they can get a dollar, and it most likely does little harm to give one. But that is not charity. Binding people together with a common outlook creates communities. It is through these communities that the true spirit of charity is able to resonate.

The journey to Snaresbrook takes 40 minutes from Notting Hill. As we speed east to Snaresbrook on the rush hour Central line, sipping our morning coffees and pressed up against legions of other commuters, Sita rummages through her handbag for her phone before looking up aghast, shocked to discover a hammer lurking in the bottom of her bag. Thankfully, out of the tunnels of the underground, Murray is phoned immediately! He says he will speak to the security guards to explain that the hammer wielding lady is a friend of his and should not be arrested.

As we walk up the sweeping driveway to Snaresbrook Court, we are struck by the power of the building’s purpose. Originally built as an Infant Orphan Asylum in 1843, the building was first converted into a school before it became a court of law.

I am overcome with a sense of nervousness and tension looking at this building whose walls contain history’s life-changing verdicts. For some, this building stands as strong a symbol of justice, for others, it may be the last glimpse of freedom before being locked away.

The building has great poise and elegance. Its magnificence is initially shrouded by the foliage around it, but eventually its faded grandeur is revealed. Surrounded by Snaresbrook’s impressive grounds, I almost forget I am in London,

Cases at these public criminal courts range from petty theft to drugs and murder. They also have been known to host high profile and celebrity cases including. Boy George and Pete Doherty have both stood trial within Snarebrook’s walls.

We arrive at 9:45am. Sita, the hammer and I glide through security with no problems before being escorted to Murray’s chambers via the courtroom where a handful of people mill about, waiting for the first case of the day to begin.

I am immediately struck by the room’s austerity. There are no windows. The carpets, chairs, walls and desks are a monochrome of brown. Seats are immaculately aligned to face the centre of the room, where the prosecutor and defender make their cases. The judge’s bench is slightly elevated at the front of the room, giving a birds eye view of proceedings.

We arrive at Murray’s chambers to find him sipping his espresso behind his desk in his robes, which to me strongly resemble royal Bhutanese robes. The welcoming smell of musky incense and coffee makes us feel right at home.

With wigs and gowns in tow, we enter the courtroom before Murray to await his arrival. This first case is against a middle-aged Bengali worker who had applied for and received benefits he was not entitled to in the amount of £18,000. The prosecutor investigates his assets to see if he can pay for his crime. The defendant has already received a suspended sentence of 15 weeks and now is claiming he does not have the money to pay his debt. His lawyer goes through every transaction of the defendant’s bank statement while playing with the curls on his Victorian wig. During the proceedings the defendant sits behind a glass pane, patiently as he watches as his case unfold.

The more gripping case was the next trial. As the story told by the prosecution witnesses unfolded, it seemed that in a housing complex on valentines day this year, some friends were having a quiet drink when a known, but not amicable, man forced his way into their apartment and threatened them with two knives and an empty wine bottle (likely to have been emptied into his stomach earlier that night). The motive was unclear. It was a classic case of drunk violence, though involved older men and a rather young girl, apparently 17 or 18. Upon seeing the defendant, it was apparent he’d had a tough life. He looked old beyond his years and his mannerisms indicated to a life of not only alcohol but possibly other intoxicants. He was claiming however that all the accusations against him were incorrect. His lawyer was painfully questioning all eye-witnesses, forcing alcohol as an excuse for them to not remember details of the night, despite the fact that there was more than one eye-witness that saw the defendant with knives. It made my wonder what the defence barrister herself really thought. Could one defend a defendant whose position you were unclear on?

Following the cross-examination, proceedings ran smoothly. We watched three witnesses testify before lunch.

When you hear of cases of corruption within courts of law in countries such as Cambodia, bribing behind backs and poking and prodding of defendants in front of the judges, one can only praise the British for bringing their gracious system to the countries of the commonwealth. Though many have unfortunately done away with the wigs…

Incidentally, I am told that the man whose trial we watched was found not guilty by the jury on Monday morning.

Maiti Nepal have brought me here to visit their transit home, a temporary shelter for women and children who are  trafficked and intercepted on the border. On average, three girls are brought to the shelter each day.

As I arrive, two girls are brought in.  They are emotional and scared. Beyond that, they are upset to have been “caught” by Maiti Nepal.

The older girl, who claims to be 17, has been intercepted before. The implication, though it is not explicitly stated, is that the girls parents have encouraged them to seek illegal employment in India.

Both girls are illiterate. Neither has attended school. With few prospects at home, their intention in crossing the border was to find work and ultimately, to send money home to their families. Their situation is typical. Neither is aware  of the vulnerable position they  placed themselves in. Nor that it is illegal. It is girls like these who are typically preyed upon and exploited by traffickers.

Maiti Nepal spend the afternoon with the girls discussing alternative livelihood paths. Throughout the afternoon, Maiti Nepal emphasise to the girls, the dangerous position they have placed themselves in. By the end of the day, the girls are heartened by the options before them. They will be collected tomorrow morning by their parents.

The border

While this is going on, Maiti Nepal’s interception teams are busy on the border. Each of officer is a survivor of trafficking. Each day they wait on the border, working in shifts between 6am and 6pm. Here they stop cars, rickshaws, buses and carts carrying young girls or those resembling women and children reported missing.

Drivers and their passengers are questioned. Where stories are suspicious, do not correlate, or where a suspected victim seems fearful, Maiti Nepal will take them to the transit home to investigate further.

Back at the home, the programme co-ordinator receives a phone call from a man whose sister disappeared last night. His sister rang him minutes earlier to say she woke up this morning in a locked room. She believes she was drugged last night at the market.  She thinks she is near the India border. She is not certain. She is scared and disorientated. The interception teams will look out for her and others who, like her, have been reported missing.

From the transit centre, I am taken to Hetauda to visit a prevention home. The centre is home to 21 girls. They are educated here about the risks of trafficking. Of the girls I meet, one is a rape victim. Another has been trafficked. A third is an orphan. The others are from local villages where it is common for them to be taken out of school and traded into local labour markets.

A non formal literacy class at the centre

Maiti Nepal invites these girls to engage in non-formal education and vocational training programmes at the centre. The four month programme also educates girls about human trafficking as well as forced and illegal labour. When they leave the programme, girls are encouraged to share what they have learned with their peers. The aim of the programme is to equip girls with the skills and education to enable them to return to their villages and begin their own businesses.

I am struck by the strength and power of these young women. By their determination to carve a brighter future for themselves. Within the context of their life experience, it is very inspiring to witness the commitment each of them has to independent living.  Maiti Nepal’s work suddenly zooms into perspective: at its core, I understand it now as a women’s empowerment movement.