What Voluntourism Means to Me!
Jenny Revesz • January 15, 2025
journey into voluntourism
The term “Voluntourism” has become a buzzword in recent years, praised for its noble intentions and criticized for its potential to oversimplify complex global issues. For many, voluntourism is simply a vacation with a cause—whether it’s planting trees, visiting a school, or taking photos with children in need before returning home with a sense of accomplishment. But for me, voluntourism is far more than that. It’s a responsibility, a transformative experience, and an opportunity for deep reflection on our roles as global citizens—one that goes well beyond the fleeting feel-good moments of a trip.
My journey into voluntourism began when I first traveled to Africa with Boutique Safaris—at the time, operating as a local Maasai owned business. During that trip, I encountered something that deeply changed my perspective. I learned not only about a school the company had helped start, but also about the heartbreaking plight of young Maasai girls who had been abandoned by their families, often due to poverty or sexual stereotypes. These girls were taken in by the school, where they were given food, shelter, and an education—and, more importantly, an opportunity to build a future that otherwise might have been denied to them.
I had the privilege of meeting these girls, hearing their stories, and witnessing firsthand the impact of this initiative. One girl, in particular, touched my heart. I ended up sponsoring her, and over the years, I have watched her grow, overcome obstacles, and achieve things I never imagined possible. But that story—while incredibly meaningful to me—is just one part of the larger picture. It’s a powerful reminder that true voluntourism is not about temporary gestures; it’s about forming lasting, meaningful connections that have the potential to change lives forever.
I understand the appeal of voluntourism: the allure of traveling to a beautiful, perhaps remote location, helping out for a few days, and then returning home with a heart full of pride. But this "quick fix" mentality often oversimplifies the underlying issues that communities face. Planting a tree in a drought-stricken village or visiting a school for a few hours does little to address the systemic problems—poverty, education, healthcare, and environmental degradation—that have created those needs in the first place. At its surface level, voluntourism can easily become more about the traveler’s experience than the real, long-term needs of the people they are trying to help.
That’s why, for me, voluntourism is not about the fleeting moments captured in photos or the tasks I’ve completed. It’s about building something deeper: meaningful engagement with the community, listening to their needs, learning from them, and sharing knowledge in a way that respects and empowers local contexts. True voluntourism recognizes that the most significant impact often requires years of effort, not just a few days of work.
I also believe in the power of companies and organizations that are committed to making a sustainable, lasting difference. There are many incredible operators, such as G Adventures and HX Hurtigruten Expeditions, that go beyond just providing travel experiences—they focus on giving back to the communities they visit by employing local guides and staff, investing in local businesses, and continually supporting initiatives that benefit the regions they visit long after the tourists leave. These organizations understand that true voluntourism isn’t about a short-term fix, but about creating opportunities for long-term empowerment and collaboration with the communities they engage with.
At its core, voluntourism is about building genuine, lasting relationships. It’s not about swooping in as a “savior” to fix a problem, only to leave feeling self-congratulatory. Voluntourism is about showing up with humility, engaging with people on their terms, and prioritizing understanding over action. Before stepping in with solutions, it’s essential to first learn about the culture, history, and needs of the community we’re working with. We must recognize that we are not the experts, but learners—our role is not to dominate, but to support.
Building relationships goes far beyond just providing resources. In the case of the girls I met in Africa, it became clear that the school was not only offering an education—it was offering these girls a new chance at life. What began as a simple act of support evolved into a lifelong commitment to a young girl’s future. And through this experience, I learned that the most significant impact often comes from forming relationships that transcend borders and expectations.
Perhaps the most profound aspect of voluntourism is how it forces a deeper level of self-awareness. When you work in a community and witness the stark contrasts in privilege, you can’t help but confront the global inequalities that exist. It’s not just about the immediate results—planting trees or building structures—it’s about understanding the complexities of poverty, education, and environmental degradation. This kind of awareness doesn’t come from a short visit or a single gesture; it comes from the humility to recognize that meaningful change requires long-term dedication, and that the root causes of inequality cannot be solved in a few days.
The privilege of traveling to different parts of the world and being able to offer help is something I don’t take lightly. It’s made me realize that it’s not enough to show up for a short period and call it a success. True voluntourism means being committed to understanding the long-term impacts of my actions, learning about the systems that perpetuate inequality, and continuously questioning how I, as an individual, can continue to contribute—not just for a week, but for a lifetime.
The real challenge in voluntourism lies not in the act of helping, but in how we reflect upon and act on those experiences once we return home. It’s easy to leave a place feeling like you’ve done something worthwhile, especially when you have a photo to prove it. But true voluntourism doesn’t end when you step off the plane. The true impact of voluntourism is only realized when we return home and ask ourselves: How can I continue to support these communities? What can I do to advocate for lasting change? It’s also about sharing our experiences with others, raising awareness, and building momentum for long-term follow-up.
For me, voluntourism isn’t about ticking off boxes on a to-do list. It’s not about one-time gestures or temporary actions. It’s about forging lasting connections, learning from the people we encounter, and committing to the long-term growth and empowerment of the communities we visit. Real voluntourism is a lifelong commitment to shared global responsibility—an understanding that the journey is not just about what we do for others, but about what we learn from them, and how we carry that wisdom forward.
In August I had the absolute privilege of escorting a wonderful group through Tanzania — and what a trip it was! From Tarangire to the Ngorongoro Crater and then up to the Serengeti for the Great Migration, every single day gave us moments I’ll carry with me forever. Tarangire welcomed us with its beautiful baobab trees and wide-open landscapes, and right away we were spoiled with incredible wildlife. A real highlight was spotting a cheetah with her three little cubs — such a special sight. At Craters Edge, the magic didn’t stop. One night we had an elephant wander right through camp! Waking up and realizing just how close we were to these giants of Africa was equal parts thrilling and humbling. Then came the Serengeti — and what timing. We were there to witness the largest river crossing of the year in Kogatende. To stand there, watching thousands of wildebeest plunge into the river, knowing that every calf has its own call so it can find its mother again if they’re separated — it was emotional, powerful, and something none of us will ever forget. And just when we thought it couldn’t get better, our final sundowner turned into one last surprise: the wildebeest migration came thundering right past us. Pure magic. But it wasn’t only about the wildlife. Our walking safari, with the rangers and guides keeping us safe, gave us such a different perspective of the bush. And the warmth of the camp staff — singing to us, caring for us, making us feel part of their family — left us all a little teary when it was time to say goodbye. For me, the very best part was watching my clients live these moments for themselves — their excitement, their laughter, and the way they completely embraced the adventure. Seeing them fall in love with Tanzania made my heart so full. This trip was everything I hoped it would be and more. I’m already counting down until I can return.
A Night on Heron Island – Exactly the Escape I Imagined I spent one night this year on Heron Island, flying in by helicopter and living exactly the kind of island escape I’d pictured. The 30-minute flight from Gladstone was incredible. From above, we saw reef patterns, turtles and rays in the blue, and landed on the helipad. It was special, quick, and everything I hoped for. Stepping off the helicopter, the air smelled fresh and the Pisonia forest framed the island perfectly. This tiny coral cay—just about 800 m long and 16 ha in total —is actually part of a protected National Marine Park. It’s wild, beautiful, and felt like a completely different world. My room was simple—no AC, just a fan—and a little rustic, but in the best way. Everything was clean, comfortable, and the staff had that warm island friendliness I love. No fuss, just genuine service (and no Wi Fi unless you opt in)—perfect for unplugging. Dinner that night? Better than I expected—not just edible, but excellent. Fresh seafood, thoughtful flavours, and enough variety considering there’s only one resort restaurant. Breakfast was solid too: buffet plus tasty extras and good coffee. No fine dining fuss, just genuinely good food when I sank into that island calm Heron Island is a major turtle nesting ground. Green and Loggerhead turtles come ashore from about November to March to nest, and baby hatchlings emerge between January and May. Guests are encouraged to join naturalist-led turtle walks at dusk or dawn. Snorkelling right from the beach, I swam among tropical fish, rays, reef sharks, and turtles cruising near the reef edge. Heron Island supports nearly 900 fish species and over 70% of the coral species of the Great Barrier Reef. There’s so much life—it felt like swimming through a living aquarium. Watching the sunset over the reef with a drink in hand at Baillie’s Bar was simple bliss. As night settled, the island went silent—no screens, no noise, just nature. Birds roosting, forest sounds, maybe a turtle coming ashore. It was exactly the unplugged reset I needed. All photos courtesy of heronisland.com
