Where older angels fear to tread

seven days ahead

ON May 15, 1958, eight pimply teen-agers took one small step for themselves and one huge step for voluntary mankind. This week marks the fortieth anniversary of Voluntary Service Overseas, a charity whose guiding dictum is ''to send skilled men and women to work in partnership with people in poorer countries throughout the world''. The germination of such an ideal lay with VSO founder Alec Dickson. Described proudly by his wife as ''a pioneer'', Alec died four years ago, but Mora is still obviously in awe of her late husband's achievements.

A tall and youthful 80-year-old, Mora recounts her adventures with the trailblazer from her Edinburgh home.

Born in Kelvinside and raised in Edinburgh, she lived much of her life in far flung climes under the VSO banner. From Cameroon to Borneo and Baghdad the driven couple pressed flesh, met, spoke to, and encouraged many of the thousands of volunteers who signed up for a largely life-changing experience.

The original vision of VSO was the natural culmination of a number of earlier projects, explains its co-founder. ''Alec was running an outward bound and community development project in Nigeria when he first thought about getting young Brits involved in some kind of exchange,'' she recalls.

This thought took shape during a later trip to Iraq. As head of a Unesco team the realisation that grass-roots help was far more valuable than ''a professional team of bureaucrats'' hit home. The final piece in the jigsaw arrived when the couple returned to Edinburgh briefly at the time of the Russian invasion of Hungary.

''Alec had by this time gained some notice for his international work. So one night we got a call asking us to drive a mobile canteen to the Hungarian border,'' she says matter-of-factly. ''When we arrived we were met by an international group of students who had gathered - unfortunately in the mistaken belief - that the Iron Curtain was about to fall. I think that Alec was greatly impressed by their courage, sense of responsibility, and their actual ability to get refugees across the border.''

It was this unshakeable conviction of the potential of youth that fired Alec Dickson to set up VSO and it is confirmed by his wife today. It is also this conviction that marks the difference between the old and the new style VSO. The Dicksons left VSO in 1961. By the 1970s qualified and experienced volunteers replaced school-leavers who are no longer accepted. ''I love the young,'' cheers Mora. ''I don't think we give young people credit for being responsible. Society seems to believe they are only capable of being in pop groups. I think Alec's secret was a confidence trick. He believed in them and they rose to the challenge.''

That early challenge involved projects in Sarawak, Ghana, and Nigeria, with the teenagers flown courtesy of the Royal Air Force, due to lack of funds. The criteria for choosing the young volunteers was made on the basis of adaptability. ''That was the key thing,'' explains Dickson. ''If you're 18 you don't need to be told that, but I think many of today's thirty-somethings probably do need to know that. Also to be open-minded and prepared to learn about different cultures, not to discard the strange but find the reasons behind it. At 18 the world is your oyster,'' she concludes.

But what of VSO's own report this year that showed volunteer applications had dipped by 22%. Doesn't that highlight a lack of the ''caring, sharing'' young people of today? Mora is pragmatic. She says: ''You have to remember that we set up VSO in 1958 when the ''youth movement'' hadn't taken off yet. No-one was going off to Nepal to find their soul, and there certainly weren't as many voluntary organisations competing to find young people.

''Even today with all the materialistic hoo-ha there are still huge numbers of young people who are idealistic. They just hide it better,'' she quips with a smile. ''Human nature hasn't changed that much in 40 years.'' Elizabeth Smith 33, now works as co-ordinator of VSO's health network in the UK. Three years ago the Dunblane-born nurse made a career move that took her to the Zambia and left her feeling ''as if I'd been reborn''. VSO was the enzyme.

''I had been working in cardiology,'' she explains. ''Just before I went away I did a degree in health science and I felt that my whole job was relying on technology. I needed a challenge.'' She ended up in the northern province of the Zambia as a nursing tutor.

As Smith acknowledges in hindsight, the first six months of her placement were spent learning before she could start sharing her knowledge. ''When you first go you're at a complete disadvantage. You are still looking at the country and people with western eyes.'' The first culture shock was a realisation that in Zambia patients do not tell the healer what is wrong because a good healer should be talented enough to tell the patient. Smith recalls: ''I thought people were just being stubborn, but then I learned from my students and my neighbour that all I needed to do was look for the clues: facial expressions. And it helped when I learned the local dialect as well.''

The second culture shock was when Smith's neighbour came running out of her house with a length of material to cover the aghast Smith's ''shame''. She explains: ''I had gone out to do some gardening in a pair of long shorts. But as I discovered in Zambia the sight of your knees is a terrible offence. My neighbour tore off her blouse as a way of demonstration to inform me that her bare breasts were fine but my knees definitely were not!''

The sight of a white woman who worked and lived among the indigenous population also provoked a reaction. ''At first I was treated with suspicion. That's because most whites drive big fancy vehicles or live in a separate compound. Once they got over the fact I didn't fall into that category I was treated in a very friendly way and virtually adopted by my neighbour's family.''

Smith learned a lot from her Zambian counterparts on a professional level: ''My experience taught me we are too reliant on technology here,'' she says. Despite the hostile atmosphere for wounds to heal in Zambia, their sterilisation techniques are far superior to the UK where, she recites, ''you are more likely to die from a hospital infection than a road accident''. This, she believes, is due to our technological impervious super-bugs and the fact we are no longer trained in the ''basics''.

Part of her present job is to collate the knowledge accrued from fellow health worker volunteers on their return to the UK. She cites the example of a pharmacist who learned in Zanzibar that a sugar-paste dressing is far cheaper and effective than anything else and has now incorporated it into his own practice in the UK.

So how does a VSO volunteer adjust back after their two-year stint? Smith laughs. ''I remember spending three hours trying to choose a soap, reading all the labels on the wonderful claims they made. In Zambia you had a choice of two.'' On another level she noticed ''a lot of wastage of equipment in healthcare'' and ''the family unit didn't seem to be appreciated as highly as it did in Zambia''. Running water, utilities, and a public transport system were, however, appreciated.

What were the best and worst of VSO times? ''The best is that it gives you an opportunity to see life from a different perspective. The worst or frustrating part is trying to tell people back home what you have seen and experienced. You have to fight the misconceptions about 'primitive peoples living in mud huts' because it's nothing like that!''

n Voluntary Services

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