Toronto, Ontario
Canada                                                                                       Tuesday March 31st, 1998.

To whom it may concern:

I would like to outline some of my experience as a ‘Solidarity Worker’ (hereafter ‘SW’) in Angola with the Danish organisation ADPP / DAPP (1) and illustrate the inadequate provision made for volunteer workers such as myself. I believe that young people who go to Africa through Tvind are placed at unnecessary risk by exposure to life-threatening diseases without access to proper health care, and lack of physical security in areas where banditry and violent robbery is rife. The security aspect is particularly important in Angola, where my team of 11 young people (ages 18-30) was sent. I was extremely concerned to learn that fresh groups of Solidarity Workers may soon be sent to Africa from Winestead Hall, the site until very recently of another Tvind school, known as a “Small-School”.

I spent a period of 6 months working in Benguela, Angola, from February to July, 1996, and completed a 5-month “preparation period” in Denmark prior to this. I will outline the problems my team faced under the following headers: Mentality, Health, Security, and Work. The first heading covers observations on the Danish organisation both at home and abroad, while the other 3 relate to the time in Africa.

Mentality

Right from the beginning, I found there was a tendency on the part of members of “Teachers’ Group”, particularly the older, more senior members, to control as far as possible the intellectual and social interaction of all students at the “High-School”, and especially those who were going to Africa. I used to jokingly call these more established members of the cult “Tvind Dinosaurs”, being the old-guard of the organisation. Most of this inner circle is made up, as it happens, of women, and I have seen the same sort of behaviour exhibited by these individuals in both Denmark, and Angola.

It is difficult to explain exactly how they attempt to make people conform to their own mode of thinking, but intimidation, shouting people down, and the manipulation of group dynamics in a way I can only describe as Stalinistic are common techniques. For example, on one notable occasion at the school in Denmark, I was berated in front of my girl-friend, (visiting me from Canada) and the whole group, for “not participating enough” in a group discussion of issues surrounding, (ironically enough), a film called The Wave, which shows how conformist behaviour can promote the growth of fascism!!

I found the approach taken by the “teacher” of my class to be both offensive and threatening, when she tried to make me conform with the “preparation” I was receiving in Juelsminde. I came to Denmark having just completed a BAHons in Latin-American Studies, and I think she presumed that I must value this greatly, or that holding this degree was very close to my self-esteem. I say this because she would regularly accuse me of being too “abstract / theoretical”, at the same time, she would say that I ‘thought too much with the heart’! I found these attempts to undermine my confidence more amusing than upsetting, but I found it worrying that somebody would try to attack a person who was about to undergo a tough experience, and be put under a lot of psychological pressure. My best analysis of this technique is that diminishing people’s belief in themselves will tend to foster reliance on the group (i.e. cult), and less questioning of the organisation and its aims.

Health

On Friday Feb.l6th 1996, DAPP project leader in Benguela Neil Clark was made personally aware of the fact I was ill with a headache and fever, typical symptoms of malaria. In spite of this, I was not allowed to go for a blood test as I requested until Wednesday Feb. 21st, when I tested positive for malaria, with a very high blood count of the parasite. The level of care available to us in Benguela was consistently very poor, and we were dependent on one local doctor for diagnoses and the prescription of medication. During my second bout of malaria I had to be put in a taxi by a team-mate and the taxi-driver and physically dragged up four flights of stairs to the home of the doctor in an attempt to find her, as I was in a very bad way. Having finally found Dr. Carla and received a shot to bring down my fever, I got home and was found to have a fever of 41(C (a degree higher can often be fatal). Such experiences were not uncommon during our stay in Angola, nor was a lack of real help or support from the permanent DAPP staff.

In general, the project leaders had much better attention when they came down with malaria etc. than we did. We were limited to what was locally available (not very much), whilst they were flown to Luanda for better treatment when necessary. On the fourth (and last) occasion that I had malaria (Plasmodium falciparum, the most dangerous form of malaria, and the one prevalent in Angola), the leader of DAPP’s Benguela project insisted that I write a fax describing my case-history to a “DAPP hospital” in Denmark to ask for the advice of the person working there!! This was instead of being flown to Luanda, as Neil wouldn’t consider anything beyond the local help available without first getting the word from Denmark. Given the terrible communications between Angola and the developed world, it is unlikely any word would have arrived, and in fact I don’t know if it ever did. Obviously, there was no way for the person in Denmark to verify any blood-test results or symptoms, and I feel this was an inadequate and inappropriate response to my continuing illness.

Angola’s power grid was largely destroyed by UNITA’s forces during the war/s, and Benguela city has only sporadic mains electricity. The project leaders, (living in the city), had their own diesel-powered generator for back-up. Our house in the Cavaco valley did not receive a generator until 2 weeks before we left, despite repeated promises being made from Day One that we would receive one soon. So we were faced with the problem of keeping malaria-patients with very high fevers cool, with no fridge to cool water, or electric fans. Again, the project-leaders had quite different living conditions.

The team of SW’s (from the Hornsjo school in Norway) based in Caxito, Bengo Province, had to travel to a private clinic in Luanda for health-care. As DAPP had not paid its outstanding bills here, the clinic would demand payment in advance (US$) for any treatment or medication required. These kind of funds are NEVER available (at least for SW’s) from DAPP, and if several members of the Caxito team had not brought large supplies of their own US$, the whole team would have been without medical treatment, including emergency attention and vital malaria tests and drugs.

Security

Our team was housed in a very isolated location, in the Cavaco Valley, c. 10 mins drive outside Benguela city proper. This placed us already at unnecessary risk, in an area known to locals as a malaria hot-spot, and with bullets regularly flying over the roof as armed guards defended the surrounding banana-plantations from theft. The project-leaders, meanwhile, lived in town. I think they wanted to prevent team members from going out at night, and were prepared to put us at risk to enforce a curfew. (Local Angolans who would occasionally drive out to visit us would carry revolvers and assault-rifles in their car for the trip, as a precaution against bandits.) Our one link with the city, and outside help, was a single Motorola radio. We had continuous problems with the charger for this, and the radio was almost never working for the last 4/5 weeks of our stay. This left us completely isolated in case of any medical or other emergency.

We did actually use the radio once in about week 6 in Benguela, when we had an attempted break-in and our guard fired two rounds over the head of an intruder, who luckily fled. Theft, including the possibility of armed robbery, is a daily reality in Angola, and in fact a DAPP residence in Luanda was assaulted by three men in uniform carrying assault-rifles and a grenade -fortunately no-one was hurt. So the physical security risk was quite tangible, and being without a radio was not an ideal situation.

Just before leaving Angola, I had the opportunity to visit the British Embassy in Luanda, where 1 was informed by Miss T. Ann Herd, of the Embassy staff, that any British nationals in the country are 1) supposed to be registered with them for the duration of their stay, and 2) are to keep in regular contact with the Consular representative in whatever part of Angola they are in. DAPP had registered the presence of the two Brits in my team with the Embassy, but had not made us aware of this potential support available to us from our country’s diplomatic mission to Angola.

I believe this is typical of DAPP’s efforts to maintain control over the SW’s, by keeping them cut off as much as possible from all other influences. In the event that an SW wanted to leave the country, we were totally dependent on DAPP to help us go home, given the lack of communications and infrastructure in Angola in general. One of our team members did decide that she had had enough, and needed to get back to Holland, and faced huge problems getting out of Angola, due to a marked lack of cooperation on the part of DAPP. (When she got home, she was told that she was lucky to be alive, with the parasites and illnesses she was carrying).

Furthermore, Angola is (still) politically and militarily precarious, and should a rapid evacuation of foreigners have become necessary, as in the past, close liaison with the British Embassy would have been crucial. l am not convinced this would have been easy, when we were completely out of touch with them in the first place, and unaware of the existence of their local representative.

On Saturday, May 11th, I took a Red-Cross flight from Huambo, in the interior of the country where I had been on a study-trip, to Luanda, from where I would be transported by DAPP to Caxito, in Bengo Province, some three hours by car from the capital. However, DAPP-Huambo neglected to inform DAPP-Luanda by radio that I was en route, and so I was left waiting in Luanda airport for some 4 hours, until after dark. This is not by any means a secure situation; taking a taxi from this location can lead to armed robbery or murder, and their are no safe facilities for waiting inside. During this 4-hour period, DAPP’s Luanda office was not answering the ‘phone, or it was out of order. Luckily, I did have the number of the United Nations’ 24-hour radio-operator in Luanda, “Alpha-Zero”, and could ask them to contact DAPP by radio. This they did, and somebody finally came to pick me up. This to me is just another small example of wantonly irresponsible behaviour on the part of DAPP, and without the UN support, I would have been in a dangerous predicament.

Work

I arrived in Angola on February 10th with high expectations as to the work I could accomplish in the nearly 6 months ahead of me. In reality, I had to approach my “Project Leader”, Jeanette Rasmussen, repeatedly to get any money or materials to work on my initial project; and by my “Midway Meeting” on April 10th., 2 months later, she had still not even applied for grants to enable me to start on other pending construction projects. The budget for a project to build 124 UNICEF latrines in the area, my major undertaking in Benguela, was not made available to me until just 6 weeks before the end of my stay.

Jeannette actually obstructed my progress (and that of all other projects in her section, Child Aid) by hogging the project vehicle almost the whole time for her own use. This was when several projects might need building materials bringing from the market, and there was no car to fetch them in. (SW’s meanwhile traveled on foot, or by bicycle). Her level of commitment in general appeared to be very low; she would very rarely show up to (much less organise) any community actions (such as cleaning up the ground around a school), and would rarely answer her radio before 9:30 or 10:00 am, when the working day supposedly began at 7:30 am. I would say that this mis-use of a valuable vehicle, and the failure to channel necessary funds to volunteer workers such as myself (described above) amounts to a serious under-utilisation of resources, and in fact this point was made to both Jeanette and Neil Clark repeatedly.

Neil Clark, Jeannette’s direct boss as head of DAPP Benguela, I feel was culpable for her behaviour, as he refused to intervene in the running of ‘her” projects. We discovered a letter on the hard-drive of the computer in the SW’s house which someone had written to Neil in December of 1995. This letter was about Jeannette, and described exactly the same problems that we were experiencing with her; i.e. total lack of help, and normally actual hindrance of development projects. The wastage in both human and material terms of such an attitude in a “Development-worker” is hard to quantify. There were numerous occasions when this person let local communities and their leaders down very badly on promises she had made, and the damage this does to a relationship that must be one of trust is huge. I did meet several exceptional individuals in DAPP-Angola, who demonstrated a high level of commitment and competence. It was my bad luck to have to work with someone at the other extreme; the point is that the DAPP managers who were made aware of this problem by us did nothing to remedy the situation. I have seen numerous examples of a lack of concern with real development objectives on the part of DAPP, and a greater concern with the image of the organisation, and the well-being of its permanent members.

I hereby authorise anyone who so wishes to use this information…in bringing these facts to the attention of all interested parties.

Sincerely,

(name omitted from web at author’s request) njmossgill@hotmail.com

Toronto, Canada. Tuesday, March 31st, 1998

by Joao <joao_albergaria@hotmail.com>

Ofereci-me como voluntário em 1996.

Venho dar-vos uma visão do que foi a frequência de seis meses e meio de um “curso de preparação para o voluntariado” desenvolvido pela Den Reisende Høgskole, escola pertencente à organização Humana (UFF na Noruega). Apesar de à partida estar certo de que muito ficará por dizer, penso ser importante a informação que aqui vos passo.

Fui para a Noruega de mente e coração abertos, começar a realização de um sonho.

Ía entrar numa organização que defendia toda a gente poder fazer algo útil em países com grandes carências, independentemente do seu sexo, idade, côr, religião e passado. Motivação sería a única condição necessária.

As primeiras 3 semanas foram passadas em alegria. Deu-me grande satisfação conhecer toda a gente, executar os trabalhos necessários,…até pagar o curso em avanço,…e assinar um contrato com a escola comprometendo-me a recolher fundos para a organização até um montante préviamente estipulado.

As dúvidas começaram quando íamos sair pela primeira vez  para vender postais na rua, como acção para angariaçãode fundos para a organização.

Nessa altura um forte espírito de equipa crescia entre nós. Éramos 12, de 7 nacionalidades com idades entre os 19 e os 55 anos.

Apesar de sabermos já exactamente como queriamos organizar aquela actividade negaram-nos essa possibilidade.

As imposições começaram. A acção de venda de postais seria organizada pelos membros da organização.

Certa noite fomos convidados pelo director da escola para uma reunião. Acompanhada de café e bolo foi-nos apresentada a existência do Teacher’s Group (TG). Falaram-nos da sua história, dos seus princípios (tempo comum, trabalho comum e dinheiro comum). Disseram-nos também que para ser Gestor de Projecto em África tería de se integrar o dito TG anteriormente.

Reagimos fortemente… A reunião decorreu durante horas com inúmeras perguntas colocadas por nós! Para todas uma única resposta “Não posso explicar, ainda não estão preparados para perceber”.

À saída da reunião quase todos nós individualmente sentimos haver algo muito errado naquele local. Só não sabiamos o quê!

Viviamos num velho edifício (metade escola, metade hotel vazio) no fim de uma estrada no alto de uma montanha norueguesa, a 18km da estrada nacional, a uma hora de Lillehammer.

Sem jornais, sem revistas, sem… apenas um computador com uma duvidosa ligação à Internet controlada pelo director da escola.

O referido “curso de preparação” consistia em desenvolver diversas tarefas.

As escritas, feitas utilizando velhos computadores, resumiam-se quase a dois assuntos apenas:

A organização (princípios, projectos e visão)

As nossas vidas (projectos para o futuro, sonhos, actividades diárias)

Todos eles seriam “corrigidos” pelo nosso professor.

Apesar de apresentados em diferentes formas, estes trabalhos eram repetidos, forçando-nos a escrever várias vezes sobre os mesmos assuntos.

Os “professores” tentaram forçar-nos a preencher um questionário semanal disponível na Intranet da escola com perguntas tipo:

“Toda a gente mente. Que mentiras disseste esta semana?”

“Ajudaste a resolver alguma discussão entre duas pessoas na escola? Como?”

“Empty your bucket” (Esvazia o teu balde). Expressão utilizada frequentemente significando “diz-nos tudo”).

Na altura dessa polémica a nossa equipa estava já “em guerra” com as pessoas que trabalhavam na escola (os ditos “professores”).

Uma palavra acerca deles: ex-voluntários, contrato vitalício assinado com o TG, solteiros, visual parecido (independentemente do sexo), discursos semelhantes (algumas expressões chave), sem qualquer qualificação profissional, terrivelmente agressivos na defesa das suas ideias e da organização. Todos mentem, distorcem e escondem informação espantosamente bem.

Dessa altura em diante, a opressão psicológica tornou-se constante e intensificou-se.

A cada reacção nossa contra a imposição de ideias por parte dos “professores” seguiam-se intermináveis reuniões em que se discutia até à exaustão o assunto, terminando apenas quando todos concordavam (mesmo que mentindo) com as ideias iniciais.

Nessas reuniões os “argumentos” podiam ir de gritar a uma pessoa, a insultos, até a ameaças de diferentes formas.

À medida que aumentavam as nossas suspeitas acerca da organização, o mesmo acontecia com a dificuldade de vender postais nas ruas.

A certa altura todo o “curso de preparação” girava à volta da venda de postais e de se “atingir o objectivo de vendas assinado em contrato” caso contrário “não estaríamos preparados para ir para África”.

Os nossos objectivos não estavam a ser atingidos!

Cada acção de angariação de fundos exigia que:

Partíssemos à boleia centenas de kms para as cidades destino.

Não percorrendo todo o caminho num dia, tinhamos de dormir na beira da estrada e seguir novamente à boleia na manhã seguinte.

Nas cidades, durante o período de venda de postais tivessemos de pedir em igrejas, escolas, etc por um tecto para nos abrigar durante a noite.

Tivessemos de pedir em supermercados, padarias, etc alguma comida.

Vendessemos postais nas ruas das 9 da manhã à 6 da tarde e das 7 às 9/10 da noite de porta em porta. Abordando toda a gente que passasse, sendo por vezes maltratados por pessoas que conheciam a reputação da organização.

À chegada ao abrigo conseguido, tinhamos de contra o dinheiro conseguido por cada um.

Todos os serões tinhamos de telefonar para a escola a fim de dizer ao director quanto dinheiro tinha conseguido cada pessoa.

Alguém que angariasse um montante abaixo do estipulado pela organização tinha de telefonar ao director da escola para discutir o porquê de tal situação e como fazer para a melhorar. Frequentemente a discussão acabava com lágrimas derramadas por exaustão física e psicológica.

Terminando cada período de angariação de fundos de normalmente 2 semanas, tinhamos de percorrer novamente à boleia as mesmas centenas de kms de regresso para nos fecharmos no alto da montanha na Noruega.

Certa vez em Gotemburgo, vendendo postais escoltados por um “professor” (de certa altura em diante um deles estava permanentemente connosco para controlar todos os nossos movimentos, conversas, etc).

Uma das nossas companheiras de equipa tinha desistido do “curso” (a segunda a fazê-lo)

Disseram-nos que teríamos de vender também os postais que ela devia ter vendido se não tivesse desistido.

Após longas disucssões, fizemos greve. Foi-nos dito pelo Jørgen (o “professor”) que “as crianças de rua em África não querem lá um voluntário que não consiga vender postais”.

Eramos 10 pessoas furiosas rodeando-o. Para evitar o pior disse-lhe:

- Jørgen, tu não existes!

A essa altura tudo estava distorcido:

A única preocupação de todos era dinheiro.

A nossa sanidade mental dependia da união do grupo e de mentir compulsivamente fingindo concordar com o que nos diziam.

As razões para não desistir não eram claras. Resistir À pressão, não vergar, proteger-nos uns aos outros.

Não tinhamos privacidade, tempos livres, ideias próprias…

De regresso à escola, reflectindo sobre toda a nossa vivência até então, cheguei à conclusão de que estavamos inseridos numa seita de ideologia Maoísta.

Em uma das intermináveis reuniões disse-o ao director da escola. A partir desse momento sempre que possível fui apontado como ridículo em frente de tantas pessoas quanto possível por aquela minha “ideia estúpida”.

Esta mesma estratégia é levada a cabo perante qualquer voz que se levante contra a organização, contra as ideias deles.

Ouviasse falar em “algumas pessoas que lá fora tentam denegrir a imagem da organização” (agora sei que se tratava de grupos anti.seitas como a TvindAlert). Acerca destes era dito serem “um grupo de falhados” ou “gente fraca que não aguentou o curso”…

Se as vozes contra forem suficientemente fortes para causar dano, a organização entra como que em hibernação, muda de nome e de forma e volta mais forte.

É feito acreditar aos voluntários que são eles que “fazem o que tem de ser feito”, são eles que “vivem no mundo real”.

Como português que sou, estabeleci uma boa relação com o único outro português que frequentava a escola. Ele era tão contra a organização quanto eu. Percebi que acabara de viver graves problemas pessoais em Portugal. Já na Zambia soube que ele tinha ingressado no TG. Penso que ainda lá estará.

Depois de eliminar a autoestima, ideias e princípios de cada voluntário, a organização aparece como suporte, segurança e sensação de pertença a algo.

Na última vez que fomos vender postais, a nossa equipa foi dividida em vários grupos cada um acompanhado por um “professor”. Dirigimo-nos para diferentes cidades na Suécia distantes umas das outras.

Cada “professor” fêz o seu grupo acreditar de que os outros grupos tinham cedido à pressão exercida por eles para que todo o dinheiro exigido fosse angariado.

Pela primeira vez conseguiram abrir uma ruptura na nossa equipa. Ao terminar os seus objectivos individuais de vendas, cada grupo voltou à escola. Ficou determinado que o meu grupo teria de angariar o dinheiro que faltava para atingir o montante estipulado para a equipa. Exaustos, mais uma vez tivemos de enganar os “professores” fingindo ficar apenas 2 pessoas a fazer esse trabalho. Na verdade um outro membro da equipa ficou atrás para ajudar a vender os últimos postais.

Duas semanas antes de partirmos para África sofremos sérias baixas na nossa equipa.

Como resultado da opressão sofrida durante os últimos 6 meses, 2 dos nossos companheiros entraram em depressão nervosa. Uma, fechando-se no seu quarto, tornou-se incapaz de desenvolver qualquer tipo de actividade. O outro declarou-se incapaz de aguentar a responsabilidade que pensava ir ter em África.

Nenhum deles foi cconnosco. De notar que no início do “curso” eram ambos jovens alegres, inteligentes e cheios de coragem.

A última discussão de que me lembro foi acerca do contrato de seguro de saúde escrito em Dinamarquês que o director da escola queria que todos assinassemos. Uma vez mais fomos ridicularizados (etc) por levantar problemas em relação a essa questão.

Mais tarde na Zambia, vivendo em lugar recondito no meio do mato, estávamos quase sempre bastante doentes. Enviamos as contas médicas para a companhia de seguros. Nunca recebemos qualquer resposta deles!

Nos últimos dias passados na escola, os “professores” comportaram-se de forma extremamente amigável. Todo o dinheiro estava angariado!

Na última reunião individual que cada um de nós teve com o director da escola, ele tentou convencer-nos a aderir ao TG.

Todos ficamos surpreendidos com o “convite” depois de 6,5 meses de terríveis disputas.

Achavamos que eles não nos podiam surpreender mais. Enganamo-nos…têm sempre mais uma tentativa para levar avante a sua posição.

Na Zâmbia a situação foi idêntica aquelas que li em tantos depoimentos neste site.

São reais sem dúvida!

Os Africanos são maltratados, desrespeitados, negligenciados em relação aos interesses da organização.

O mesmo tratamento têm os voluntários.

Os projectos são geridos de forma extremamente amadora. Quase nenhum dinheiro é empregue no financiamento dos mesmos (quase nenhum mesmo!).

Etc, etc, etc

João

by Joao <joao_albergaria@hotmail.com>

I was a volunteer in 1996.

I’ll give you an inside view over the six months “preparation course” held in Den Reisende Høgskole, Norway.   Although, I’m sure that much will remain to be said.

I went to Norway with my mind and heart opened, to start a dream coming true.

I was joining an organization that defended everyone, could do something useful in needed countries regardless their sex, age, colour, religion or background. One just needed the right motivation.

The first 3 weeks were spent joyfully. I was happy to meet everyone, happy to do all the tasks required…happy to pay the “course” fees in advance…happy to sign a contract with the school saying I would have to fundraise a certain amount of money before going to Africa.

The doubts began when for the first time we were “going out” to sell postcards as fundraising action.

We were building up a strong team spirit. We were 12, from 7 nationalities with ages from 19 to 55 years old.

We already knew how we wanted things to be organized in our team but our way was denied.

The impositions began. The postcard selling teams were to be made by the school members.

One night we were invited to a meeting with the headmaster of the school. With coffee and cake we were told about the existence of the Teacher’s Group (TG). Its beginning and principles (common time, common work, common money). We were also told that to be a project leader in Africa one had to join the TG first.

We strongly reacted…the meeting went on and on with us asking hundreds of questions! To all of them, the same answer “I can’t explain it to you, you are not prepared to understand it yet”.

Going out of the meeting almost all of us individually understood something was very wrong about that place. We just didn’t know what!

We were living in an old building (half school, half empty hotel) at the end of a road on some Norwegian mountains, 18km from the main road, one hour from Lillehammer.

No newspapers, no magazines, no…. Only one computer with a lousy Internet connection controlled by the headmaster.

Our “preparation course” consisted in performing different tasks.

The written ones, done with the support of very old computers, were almost all concerning the same subjects:

The organization (principles, projects, vision)

Our selves (projects for the future, dreams, daily activities)

All those were to be “corrected” by our teacher.

Although presented in different ways, these tasks were repeated several times, forcing us to write the same things over and over again.

The “teachers” tried to force us to fill a weekly report available in the school’s intranet with questions like:

“Everyone lie! What lies did you say this week?”

“Did you help to solve a fight between two persons in the school? How?”

“Empty your bucket!” (Expression often used meaning “tell us everything”)

At the time of that report, our team was already “in war” with the people working at the school (the so called “teachers”).

One word about them all: ex-volunteers, contract signed with the TG, single, all looking alike (regardless their sex), talking alike (a few key expressions), without any professional qualification, amazingly aggressive when defending their ideas and the organization. They all lie, distort and keep information secret amazingly well.

From then on, the psychological oppression was permanent and stronger.

We were always reacting against their attempts to impose ideas. Each time that happened, endless common meetings were held to discuss until exhaustion the subject, only finishing when everyone agree (even if lying) with their initial ideas.

In those meetings the “arguments” could go from shouting at a person, to insulting, even to threatening in different ways.

As our suspicion about everything concerning the organization increased, so did our difficulty to sell postcards on the streets.

Soon, our entire “preparation course” was around selling postcards and “achieving the goals” signed in the initial contract, if not “you are not prepared to go to Africa”.

Our goals were not being achieved!

To go fundraising, we were given little pocket money and:

We had to hitchhike hundreds of km to the targeted towns.

If we couldn’t do it all in one day, we had to sleep at the roadside to restart hitchhiking next morning.

We had to ask in churches, schools, etc for a roof to sleep under.

We had to ask in supermarkets, bakeries, and restaurants for some food.

We had to sell postcards on the streets from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. and from 7 p.m. to 9/10 p.m. door to door. Approaching everyone passing by, sometimes being shouted down by people knowing the organizations reputation.

Arriving to the “shelter” we had to count the money earned individually.

Every evening we had to call the school to tell the headmaster how much money each person earned.

The one behind his/her goal had to phone the headmaster to discuss why was that and how to improve the situation. Often people ended up crying, physically and psychologically exhausted.

Finishing a normally 2 weeks long fundraising action each time we went out of the school, we had to hitchhike the same hundreds of km back to be closed in the top of the mountain in Norway.

Once we were in Gothenburg selling postcards escorted by a “teacher” (from certain point on one of them was always present in order to control our moves, conversations, etc).

One of our friends had just left the organization (the second one in our team to do so).

We were told we also had to earn all the money of her individual goal once she didn’t accomplish it before leaving.

After long hours of discussion, we made a strike. We were told by Jørgen (the “teacher”) that “street children in Africa don’t want a solidarity worker that couldn’t sell postcards”.

We were 10 very angry persons around him. To avoid the worse I just said:

-         Jørgen, you don’t exist!

-

At a certain point, everything was twisted:

Everybody’s only concern was money.

Our mental sanity preservation strategy was group strengthening and lying pretending to agree with what they said.

The reasons to remain in the “course” were to resist their oppression, not to break.

We could not have privacy, spear time, own ideas…

Back in the school, joining all the experience we had so far, I came to the conclusion they should follow Maoist ideologies.

In one of the endless and aggressive meetings I told that to the headmaster. From that moment on he often made me look ridiculous in front of as much people as he could because of that “stupid idea” of mine.

The same strategy was held in front of any voice raised against the organization, against their ideas.

We heard about “some people trying to damage the organization’s image” (now I know they were talking about TvinAlert). About that they used to say, “Those are just a bunch of losers” or “weak people that didn’t manage this tough preparation course…”

If the voices raised are strong enough, they kind of hibernate for a while, change skin and come back again strongly.

They make volunteers believe they are the ones “doing the right thing”; they are the ones “living in the real world”.

As Portuguese, I establish a good relationship with the only other Portuguese at the school. He was as against them as I was. He was also coming out of some serious personal problems back in Portugal.

Already in Zambia I heard he had join the TG! I think he is still there.

After diminishing the volunteer’s belief in themselves, they come up as supporters of all their fears, guaranteeing security and a sense of belonging to something.

Last time we went postcard selling we were divided into several groups, each one escorted by one “teacher”. We went to different cities in Sweden far from each other.

Each “teacher” made each group believe the others where breaking down to all the “teachers” money raising demands.

That time they managed to split our strong group. Reaching their goals, all other team members from the other towns left back to Norway. My group stayed to finish the Zambia team goal. Once more we had to trick the “teachers” pretending only two persons stayed to work. In fact another friend of us stayed to help selling the last postcards.

Back in the school we re-established our strong union.

Two weeks before leaving to Africa we had serious damages in our team.

Resulting from all the oppression during the passed 6 months, two of our teammates went into a hard psychological situation. One closed in her room was unable to perform any simple task requested. The other one declared him self unable to face the responsibility of his work in Africa.

Neither of them went with us. Notice that at the beginning of the “course” those were two joyfully, bright, daring young people.

The last discussion I remember was about a health insurance contract written in Danish presented by the headmaster for us to sign. Once more we were declared ridiculous (etc) to raise problems out of that.

Later in Zambia, living deep in the bush we were always very ill. We sent our bills to the insurance company. Never heard of them!

Last days at the school the “teachers” tried to look as friendly as they could. The money was raised!

At the last individual meeting each one of us had with the headmaster, he tried to convince us we should, or could latter join the TG.

We all were very surprised after all the terrible fight we had during the past 6,5 months.

At that time we thought they couldn’t surprise us any more. They had tried everything. But no…they always try one more!

In Zambia, the situation was the same I read in so many stories in Tvind Alert’s website.

No doubt they are real!

Africans are mistreated, disrespected, neglected in relation to the organization’s own interests.

Solidarity workers suffer same treatments.

The projects are very unprofessionally managed. Almost no money is going in (really very few!)

Etc, etc, etc

Greetings

João

by Sylvia Dawson

It all started when i was 12 yrs old. I used to live in a children’s home in London. I had been there about 11 months when my Social Worker told me that they had found a new placement for me, with schooling on site.

Now, i hated school so i didnt want to go, but i gave in to a visit.

Well, when i arrived at the school, i liked it immediatly. I met Jochen and Steen and they talked me through the “Program”. One thing they made sure i knew for certain, was that i could NOT be expelled for any reason. I found this odd, but it slipped my mind.

They talked with my Social worker and we left. I few days later i got a call saying that a date had been set up for me to move in. September 1993.

Well, the move was uneventfull. Every one seemed nice, and they all tried to make me feel at home.

The problems began about a month later when I was due to go on Home leave. Jochen said i must stay onsite for 3 Months before i could see my family. Well, naturally i flipped out at this.

I was restrained and given kitchen duties for a week. Now to some people this might not seem to bad, but you have to understand that there were maybe 40 students, 10 members of staff and a huge kitchen. I had to clean the hall, wash the dishes after every meal, take the food to the hall, and clean the kitchen after the cook had finished. I never got any school work done that week.

After that “Minor” incident, we had a building weekend. We had to paint, build, plaster, rewire, basically what you paid a handyman to do. I thought this was totally out of order, as social services were paying for this to be done by them, not us. I told my social worker and he called Steen. As far as i know, he was told that the Students had Not been following the program and this was their punishment. Again i flipped.

But this time i did not get restrained as usual, this time Jochen out right assaulted me. I have the scars to remind me. It involved pulling my hair, kicking and a couple of slaps.

Things went down hill from there. I had been there about 3 Months when a bunch of us decided to run away. We set off about 9:30 pm. We traveled across the fields of neighbouring farms.

It was about 9:00am when i got caught. Steen picked me up in the Jeep and took me straight back to the school. I was so scared . But nothing happened. 2 weeks later Home leave was up. I couldnt go.

I didnt do anything. I was too scared. It was like Military school. You go AWOL and you really paid for it.

They didnt stop my home leave for Christmas though. I didnt think they had enough gut’s to do that.

Well, i got home and told my family what happened. What i didnt know was that someone had called and said i was telling lies to the police! I hadnt even seen any police since i had been there. My family didnt believe a word from my lip’s.

Boxing day came, and i was taken to Newcastle train station, for my trip to Norway. Jochen was there to pick me up. I didnt want to go but i had to. It was part of the “Program”. We got to the docks,and boarded the ferry. The trip was pretty smooth all the way to Norway.

Norway was beautifull. But one problem. The Jeep couldnt take going up the mountain to the Hotel. We broke down, and Jochen told us to start walking up the Mountain. It was freezing outside and we were told to walk!!?? None of us argued. We started walking. I think we had been going for about 3 hours when they brought the Mini van down to see what happened. We were taken to the Hotel. We had a nice meal, and then to bed.

The next day we were woken at about 7:00 am to get ready to Ski. We got to the slopes (Lillehammer)

and we were fitted with ski’s. I had no idea what i was doing, so i went to the Baby slope. I went down a few times quiet well. After a few up’s and down’s, i decided i wanted to try the little jumps. I went back up to the top, and started down. Then all i remember was opening my eyes to see 5 or 6 people around me. I had a nasty fall oneof them said. Jochen turned up and started cursing in German. He took me back to the Hotel, and told me to go lie down. I ended up in bed for about 4 days. Due to not having warm enough clothes, i had pnuemonia. Jochen said i was faking it and wouldnt do a thing. It wasnt untill the 5th day when i made a desk clerk call the hospital. I was taken and they gave me some pills and sent me back.

When we got back to England, i was told if i said anything about it i would be punished like i had never known before. I nearly hit him. But i didnt say anything.

Over the next few months in 1994 i was beaten, racialy attacked and sexually abused, by the students and teacher’s. Now i would love to be able to tell you what happened, but i honestly cant remember much about it.

I had tried to run away a few times, but no luck at all. I was allways caught.

Well, in March 1995 i was expelled. Now how that happened, is a funny thing.

Around the begining of Febuary, I showed Jochen what i had kept. I had recordings of things he said to me, photos of him hitting the kid’s. And plenty of In House memos. I had been sneaking around for about 6 months collecting all i could to get myself out of there. He told me to find a place to go and he would expell me. I called my Mother and she agreed that i could go home. He told me that i had to give him all the things i had. Stupid me i did. Well i got out. After 18 months of hell, i got away.

It has taken me nearly 6 years to come to terms with what happened, But i did. I have gone through so much, but i have learned a great deal.

I am sure one day it will all come out in the open, and all those people will be stoped. But untill that day comes i can say this, All those children i lived with will comeout one day. Some one will pay for what they have done, and i hope and pray that it will come soon, so no one else has to be hurt.
Sylvia Dawson  <baby_98_98@hotmail.com>

WITNESS

Tvind, Denmark, 1993

---

Something was not quite right….

by ‘Ben’, Cardiff, Wales, UK

Hi. First just to say how much I appreciate the chance to be able to do this sort of thing…

My brief contact with Tvind took place in the summer and autumn of 1993 – it seems a long time ago, but from what I gather on your website little has changed. In fact, I had pretty much put it all behind me until, firstly, I read the article in the Times last year, and, secondly, I met a friend of a friend who’d had a similar experience much more recently. I’ve been meaning since then to do a bit more digging – a quiet Sunday morning’s idle surfing led me to your site.

Anyway, in the summer of 1993 I was 24. I gave up a job which was taking me nowhere I wanted to go and felt like a delayed year out before deciding on a career change. I saw an advert in, I think, the Independent, seeking volunteers for Winestead Hall and the Red House schools. No mention of Tvind, Humana, Denmark or indeed anything besides the chance to work with deprived kids in return for free board, lodging and pocket money. It sounded like just what I was looking for.

A couple of weeks later I found myself in rural Norfolk for an introductory weekend at Red House with a group of others who were for the most part of like mind but included an undercover journalist: more of than anon. Not knowing what to expect means you take things on trust, I guess, and in any event we weren’t told much beyond that the organisation ran a number of schools in Denmark as well as the UK. But a number of other things should, with hindsight, have seemed odd. Firstly, as I say, there was the journalist. Naturally, he didn’t identify himself – he came for the first evening, asked a number of probing questions and was gone the next morning. The staff said they’d found out he was he was a hack from the Sun interested in some form of smutty story - I suppose they figured (correctly) that as we were pretty much all of a leftish persuasion and would disapprove of that sort of thing – and they’d asked him to leave. I don’t, now, believe the bit about the Sun and the journalist’s angle but I can well believe the rest of it: the weekend would have been just after the stories in the Guardian which you reproduce on your site. And they did seem unduly nervous about it all. Then there were the warnings about how one shouldn’t venture into nearby towns and villages (although ‘nearby’ is stretching it) – they painted what I now know to be the ordinary Norfolk town of North Walsham as a dangerous, violent and drug-ridden no-go area. And then there was the fact that, with no training or experience, we seemed to get on better with the children at the school than the staff did. I can remember one lad of perhaps 10 who came from a disturbed background who was constantly under very close supervision but still caused mayhem and generally responded very badly. He was, though, perfectly happy doing a bit of gardening with me and one or two of the others.

But as I say, none of this really registered at the time. The weekend ended with an interview with someone who was probably high up in the organisation (she wore expensive clothes and had a laptop – a very rare luxury in 1993) in which I was told that the schools in England weren’t really suitable for someone with no experience and that I’d probably get more out of going to Denmark. I was given some general info and told that someone would be in touch. A few days later someone was – from the Bustrup Efterskole asking me to come across in a week’s time or so. By now I was getting quite into the idea: I had travelled in Scandinavia before and enjoyed it, and this really seemed like a chance to get away from the choices I didn’t really want to face at home. So off I went.

It didn’t start very auspiciously. After a 24-hour coach journey I found myself alone one evening in Århus bus station – they hadn’t (as promised) come to meet me. Several increasingly desperate phone calls to the school led to them dispatching someone in a landrover in the small hours. Having said that, I guess there’s nothing particularly sinister about incompetence. The next day, in any event, everyone was terribly friendly and welcoming – I got a tour of the place, introductions all round and a trip to the local town, and was generally made to feel wanted. Again, though, a number of things didn’t seem right. The headteacher – who was otherwise very friendly – warned me not to read the local newspapers (which would have been difficult as I couldn’t then read a word of Danish…) and made me sign a piece of paper saying, in effect, that if I broke the bans on alcohol or sexual relationships with students they’d be on to me like a ton of bricks. Now, I couldn’t half have done with a beer, but as sleeping with 14-year-olds isn’t exactly something I’d have done anyway I was rather offended by the strength of the latter provision.

The doubts were creeping in by that stage, and from that it got worse. I was told I’d have to start speaking only in Danish, but a promise of Danish lessons never materialised and god dag, tak and jeg er waliser don’t really give you much of a range of conversation. So I ignored that, which was just as well as I was pitched straight in to teaching English literature to a class of 16- and 17-year-olds. I’d never done any teaching of any kind before, and hadn’t studied English literature since O level. Still, I did my best and, I have to say, quite enjoyed that bit.

Relations with the staff, and the general atmosphere, were getting unpleasant, though. For the first time I was told about the wider organisation, its worldwide activities and the need for fundraising – in my case for a trip to India the following Christmas. I had no intention of going to India as I intended to spend Christmas with my family in the UK, and in any event would have felt very uneasy fundraising with no command of the language and not much more idea what I was fundraising for and why. So when I was asked to sell postcards and flowers with the rest of the group in Holstebro I politely refused. That got me the cold shoulder and a stern ticking off from the head teacher: I needed to forget about myself and think about the group, I was told. The day after there was some kind of sports day in Tvind itself – being a reasonable footballer I volunteered for that. But having been told that the bus would leave at 7.30am I rolled up at 7.15ish to see it pulling away without me (I was staying a short distance away from the main school). I thought then, and still do, that they deliberately left me behind: it was obvious both that I wasn’t on the bus and that I ran after it. The result was that I spent the whole day alone with no food (they had locked everything away) until I walked a few miles to the nearest village and bought some stuff in a small shop. The next day, I got another b*llocking for letting the group down again, or something like that. For the first time I stood up to the staff, pointing out that they had left without me and what had happened as a result. Instead of a prolonged row, though, they responded by asking me rather sympathetically whether I had read anything critical in the local press. I was a bit taken aback, but said both that I hadn’t and couldn’t (still no Danish lessons…). I think perhaps they started to worry about me leaving and spilling the beans: their attitude after that was markedly different. It was now quite OK for me not to be involved in the India trip, they were happy to speak English, and one of the staff even started flirting quite openly with me. Even at the time, it was all too obvious, and makes more sense now. They didn’t want anyone to leave, even someone (like me) who’d only been there for 10 days or so, and were terrified of any publicity. So I made some excuse about needing to return to the UK to sort out the lease on my flat and was greatly relieved to find myself on a flight back home a few days later. Gatwick Airport has never seemed more inviting…

That wasn’t the end of the story. I was determined not to have anything more to do with them, despite having no job in the UK and not much idea of what to do, and thought I could just put it all behind me. A few weeks later, I was therefore surprised to get a phone call from the head teacher. She pressed me about coming back: I said I wasn’t. Again, I heard the same mixture of accusation and paranoia as to my reasons; again, I said I had heard nothing about the organisation (true), that I wasn’t really cut out for what they wanted (partly true) and that, in any case, I had to stay in the UK as there was a possibility of needing to go to court to sort out my flat (utterly false, and said only because I had had enough of talking to her). After that, I got a few letters (which went in the bin unopened) but no more phone calls.

Looking back on it, my feeling at the time was of an unfocused sense of something not being right, rather than any grand or sinister conspiracy. There were comic elements to that too – like when all the staff turned up in the nearest town to go for a meal. The locals clearly knew who they were: it reminded me of nothing so much as how ordinary Americans reacted to the Amish in the film Witness. The whole episode really has stuck with me: I can’t remember much that happened over 8 years ago in anything like the same detail. Moreover, having now found out more about Tvind in general, it all fits into a rather horrible context from which I’m very, very relieved I escaped when I did.

For what it’s worth, things turned out OK in the end – 8 years on I have a responsible and well-paid job and all the trappings of middle-class comfort. It took a while, though: it was all a huge jolt to my already-low self-confidence and the following few months passed by in a state of depression and inactivity. Opportunities became threats and meeting new people became painfully difficult. That sounds like I’m making too much out of a brief experience, but I really don’t think I am. Being utterly confused by a group of strangers while at the same time being under pressure to become part of it is an unusual and disturbing experience. Even then, I’m aware, though, of how different things could have been.

I’ve really nothing to hide with any of this, but as I’ve only ever told the full story to one other person I wouldn’t want others who know me to find out, however unlikely that is. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t publicise my name, or that you used a pseudonym of your choosing. That is, if the above recollections add any value at all, which I hope they do.

Best wishes, and keep up the good work.

Ben is a pseudonym.

---

Do you have a story? Tell us.

Posted: pre-2004

from Jane Docherty

I joined IICD between my sophomore and junior years at college and 1992.  I was on the “Angola 5″ team but as things got increasingly unstable after the elections there, I pushed for us to go to a different DAPP project. IICD gave the impression that switching projects as a group was a possibility, though it never happened.

We all banded together in response to the mistreatment, fund-raising nightmares, rumors and newspaper articles getting passed around. I switched teams at the last minute to go with the Nicaragua group because I didn’t want to worry my family too much.  As a result, I lost a lot of the non-Tvind support that was necessary to maintaining any sense of grounding as an IICD participant. I ended up feeling pretty isolated and bewildered.

IICD had us moving furniture for 12 hours from 10pm to 10am in NYC the night before our group was leaving for Nicaragua.  By the time we reached Guatemala en route to Nicaragua 8-10 days later I was a real mess — couldn’t sleep, couldn’t function normally.  I eventually decided I needed to leave all together.  Our leader told me I had a responsibility to the project and I immediately agreed to stay, whereupon the rest of the group (bless them) told him he was crazy and that I’d just made it clear I needed to go home.

At some point in there I went from thinking IICD was a slightly disorganized, odd organization which I’d have to put up with in order to have an interesting work/travel experience to deciding I wasn’t going back to college and that I wanted to work with IICD forever…that going home was a necessary evil and that after a few days rest I’d come back refreshed and able to be of use.  To this day I have no idea how much of that shift was a function of my lack of self-care/self-awareness and how much was “programming” by IICD…but I was pretty close to dropping out of life and becoming a fervent member of Tvind.

A series of events allowed me to pull back and listen to what I was contemplating.  By the time I reached my parents, I was a wreck, but no longer interested in signing on to TVIND for life.  In fact I was furious with them and determined to “expose” them.

All this was over ten years ago, and apart from one or two encounters, I’ve had nothing to do with IICD.  Once, when I was back at University, I ran into two rain-drenched IICD fund-raisers in New York City. I bought them a beer and shared with them all the information I had about IICD/TVIND/DAPP, and they ended up leaving the organization.

Some time that year, another fund-raiser approached someone on Fifth Avenue who turned out to be a close high school friend of mine.  My friend said, “Is this IICD?  I’m not interested, thank you.”  The volunteer asked why and Andrea said, “Because a friend had a very unpleasant experience with your organization,”  to which the volunteer responded, “Oh, you mean, Jane?”

At first I was horrified when she told me about this conversation, because I pictured the anti-Jane seminars they must have been giving at Swiss Meadows.  Then I started to enjoy it a bit because it meant they must have felt at least a bit threatened by me.

I paid them $4000 to join and fund-raised another $6000.  They paid for my $300 plane ticket to Mexico City and whatever costs I incurred at Swiss Meadows.They also gave me a $200 refund a few months after I went home. It took me at least six months to begin to feel vaguely normal after the experience, and there were lots of residual difficulties — and lots of money spent on therapists and international phone call.

That’s the general outline, though I could go on for hours about the details and all the sketchy things that went on.

WITNESS

Tvind, Denmark, 1992

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by Andre Fearon, UK

Briefly I’m 27 years old live and work in Cambridge, UK.

In winter of 1992 Jan to be exact I was heading for the Airport my brother was taking me and I felt excited like I was going on a new adventure.

Previously I had been to private school the American international school in London. It was a fee paying school but when my father ran into financial problems I had to leave.

A year after my leaving my mother spotted an advertisement in a shop for Humana peoples charity, and she picked up a big white brochure on this place called Tvind International School in Denmark.

At home she discussed with me about this foreign school like a boarding school but with all European children and charity work.

My poor mother if only she knew what I know now, she would of never sent me.

Anyhow my mother rang the number and we arranged an interview with a person in west London, hanger lane on the Piccadilly line, so we travelled over to this person, a women but a name I can’t remember. She seemed pleasant and interviewed me.

She told me how the school was involved with charity and had a big thing with music.

I loved the idea of being free and abroad, as I always liked travelling and my mother was European it seemed like the perfect thing to do. I arranged to fly out in Jan to Billund Airport in West-Jutland to start my new school.

The airport was cold and I was bit nervous I said goodbye to my brother and flew to my new life. I arrived in Billund at around 10.00pm in the dark as I got off the plane it struck me that the weather was freezing but that didn’t deter me.

I was met by a man about mid 40’s early 50’s with glasses he seemed like a nice sort of guy I can’t remember his name but if I saw him it would click. We drove up through Jutland past a few towns and then into Ulfborg as we drove through the town I remember it reminding me of a scary film, you know where people don’t drive to or where they never leave. We approached a driveway off of a country road and the place was huge not just one school but about 6 of them there were playing fields a swimming pool and many other places.

I walked in what appeared to be the dining hall there were about five teachers there to greet me, it was like they had found there long-lost son. I sat down they introduced themselves I remember a few of their names: Ken a short blond haired Danish man, Birgitte a thin women who could roll up a cigarette with one hand, David an English man who had a beard and smoked a pipe, Katherine a music teacher and one of the head teachers, and the head mistress I can’t remember her name but I will never forget her.

And the man who drove me here.

They all welcomed me to Tvind gave me tea and some supper. I was happy but how wrong I could be.

I was shown to my new accommodation and a boy introduced himself as Chono. He was my new flat-mate in our ground-floor flat if you like there was another kid called Mickal and someone-else.

I had brought with me some Baileys and 100 cigarettes so as a gesture of goodwill I shared this with my new friends and it went down very well.

The next day I was shown around the place there were many different schools and places there was one in particular with some sort of African flag on it. This caught my eye and asked what it was, this kid chono told me that all the people in the building had Aids or Hiv and that they were from Africa. Being quite open-minded I suppose it didn’t bother me but it seemed a bit strange that you would have something like that in a school. Generally the place was great and we had the worlds tallest power producing windmill hence the name TvindMollen which I later worked on.

I could tell you word for word the goings on at Tvind it would take a year, generally the place was great I played sport a lot I was in the fresh-air we could smoke freely it was like a naughty school for children.

But the truth become greater when I started to get closer, I was occasionally bullied for being English there was one boy who was really massive he used to wrestle and would chase me on a regular basis there was two kids that I kind of felt I had to look after them they were half irish but really short for their age. They were bullied quite a lot but they caused mayhem.

Sometimes we would wonder off into town and have a look around, because my Danish wasn’t great I would speak English out of all the people I met when I mentioned Tvind they kind of looked horrified I know now why that is.

We used to go on many trips to recycling places and other areas in Jutland.

Flower selling was the worst we had to raise money for our trip to England. We were told that we should tell everyone to who we were selling that the money would go to humana charity in Africa for the sick.

Ken our teacher used to drive us around in The white landrover defenders always nice and shiny (because I used to wash them). I was told to say Vil do kobe un blomster which I think means would you like to buy a flower.

I remember selling the flowers at 60krone a piece we all had about 10 flowers in one tray. We did this for about 1 month 2 days a week 9 till 8 at night.

Where the money went I will never know.

We also had trip to Norway to a place in hamar near Lillehammer where for our stay we had to play in a band everynight and clean all the hotels dishware. I was so ill that week I remember it like yesterday.

I noticed that all the trips that we went on we never stayed in somewhere normal always a hostel or some dingy place.

To sum the place up there was something not quite right with Tvind. All the children or kids that were there had problems. Behaviour or anger or just parents that didn’t want them.

I suppose you could call it some kind of boot camp. It wasn’t all bad. I’m still here but mentally scared and things I will never forget.

When I finally wanted to come home they hid my airline ticket from me so I missed my flight, they told my mother I didn’t want to leave so in anger I flooded their £250k sports-hall finally 8 months 12 days later I returned home. I feel for those who spent longer there .

I have much more to tell but this has been just an insight into Tvind.

I hope this helps.

Regards Andre Fearon

Email: squadron45@hotmail.com

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Do you have a story? Tell us.

Posted: pre-2006

by Dan Lindbergh.  translated from Swedish

THE UFF – THE TVIND EMPIRE – THE TEACHERS GROUP

“The Tvind Empire is one of the press stamped name of a large amount of associations, foundations, companies, schools etc who are seemed in different kind of relations.  They appear to have something in common. The most common are UFF  (Country aid from People to People), DRH (The Travelling Folk High School)  and Tvind.

The Teachers Group

The real name is the teachers group (TG).   TG is a top-down managed cult which consists of idealistic members who are ruling the whole Tvind Empire.   They’ve got several collectives spread out over the whole world. You can be a member on trial for a couple of years, or write a contract for lifetime.   As a teacher in Denmark you get your salary from the State, but 95% of the salary is put into an account that you haven’t  access to.   But the money isn’t important, it’s that they want you to sign a contract for lifetime, both on your money and your time.   You won’t have any leisure time, but the collective will decide what you should do.

When you’ve signed in to the TG they exhort you to burn pictures and address books.   It’s motivated by the risk of pursuit against both the TG and the private.    When you’ve chosen to sign the contract for lifetime all your assets are given to the TG, as well as all your future incomes.

The communism

The Teachers Group gets a lot of its ideology from Mao Tse-Tung and communist North Korea. They understand the meaning of money and often talk about combating capital with capital, i.e. one needs a lot of money to spread one’s ideas.

Work for Africa

When I came into contact with the movement I had never heard of it before.    I was sitting one day and looking for a job in the papers when I got to see an ad with the headline “Work for Africa”.    I would not get a salary, but my expenses for accomodation and food were covered, it said.    First I would go to a school, then go down to Angola as a solidarity worker and finally home again for a period of “after work”.   It seemed great, something meaningful to put some effort into and furthermore adventurous.   When I after some days got in contact with the contact person of the movement in Gothenburg, it became clear that the work was not just unpaid.   I would also pay a fee of approx. 20,000 crowns.   It came first as kind of a shock, but if you saw it as a payment for a 16 months adventure and a contribution to the Third World, it was not so expensive, I thought.

The Travelling Folk High School

The Travelling Folk High School exists on several places, all obediant to the TG.  The one I would go to is in Norway on a mountain.   When we arrived there was a big party with candles and raisins [grapes?] on the table.   Everybody was enthusiastic and expectant.   The headmaster was speaking, he inspired respect but was still friendly, and I thought that this seemed to be my thing.   People were caring about each other. Fairly soon we got our responsibility areas. The school lies in the old part of the Hornsjö.

It was a mountain hotel, by Swedish standards a fairly shabby hotel.    It’s owned and runs by the TG.  The school’s maintenance and drifting [?], plus the hotel’s swimming pool, is run by the pupils.   It also happens that a group of pupils receives in assignment to handle the entire maintenance of the hotel during some weeks. This in order to learn oneself how it’s to handle unexpected tasks.

Responsibility

This procedure is very typical for the school’s / TGs methods. These practical lessons became sometimes fairly absurd, for example when an 18-years old without economic experience would handle and be liable for the schools reduce food budget.   I myself became responsible for the school’s maintenance.    It involved organising one building weekend per month, plus an entertainment afternoon per week.  Then I would have prepared so that 30 – 40 persons could occupy themselves effectively a whole weekend respective an afternoon.   How would I be able to know which tools, and how many persons that were needed in order to change a rotten window?    Or fix a ragged tumbler?    Or put a new clinker floor in the hall?   And all should take place at the same time. There was time for it in the schedule, but it wasn’t enough.    We had also to work during breaks, evenings and sometimes nights.

Failure – guiding

At first I really did my very best to make it work.   But after a while I realised that it actually wasn’t meant to succeed.   If you succeeded against all the odds, there was always something that wasn’t perfect.  The “acknowledgement” that one had succeeded came with another task, just to make sure that we definitely wouldn’t make it next time.

Why weren’t we allowed to succeed?   The TG use problems and reverses in order to control its members and pupils / volunteers.  If you failed, this could be brought up at a general meeting where you first were ground down in a mill of accusations.  Then they went further on by analysing why one was so completely incompetent.   Maybe it would be due to the bourgeois growth one has had?   That one had never had to take responsibility for anything?   That one had never had  to feel the useful and solidarity group pressure within a collective?

General meetings

There was a rule at the school which said that all must have an opinion. All must take a position.   Gee, I thought,  that sounded good. This was a school where one took each other each other seriously.

Some of the pupils could sit quiet too long at a general meeting, maybe just because they hadn’t really made up their mind, or maybe they didn’t even get what the general meeting was all about.   Then the headmaster began to question him.  If he then came with the “wrong” answer i.e. had another opinion than what TG had, began an overwhelming arguing. When I before spoke about being laughed down in a mill, this arguing can be compared with pulverisation.

The attack from TG is always well planned and synchronised.   Above all the headmaster was a very doughty agitator.   We had frequent  general meetings.  They could be about everything, but often about more or less constructed problems.   I have always have had difficulty staying quiet, which did that I ended up in the loophole.

A general meeting could go on very long.    Afterwards one was entirely exhausted and all the words and arguments were going round in your head.   In some way, despite the enormous group pressure, I knew what I thought, but I couldn’t argue for it.   The TG had eroded my arguments so that the words no longer were worth anything.   This happened at almost all the general meetings.

At first I really thought that I was wrong.   If I couldn’t argue so that people understood, something had to be wrong with my opinions.   But on the evenings when I lay down and would fall asleep after a general meeting, I went through the entire meeting again, and I realised that it wasn’t so.   I began slowly but certainly see that it wasn’t possible to win against the TG.

The general meetings were not part of a democratic process.   It didn’t matter if I was good or bad at arguing.   The outcome was determined in advance by  the TG, and they kept on until they reached where they wanted.    This meant that sometimes one could go on for days.   During my time it was never necessary, people were subdued in max 6 hours. But I know that in Tvind in Denmark and in the Red House schools in England, meetings has been going on for up to 2 days without sleep.

Manipulation

I remember especially one general meeting at the end of my time at the school, when it took a long time for me to understand what it was the headmaster really meant.  I sat hyper-concentrated and first after half an hour I realised his opinion on the question.   Then something strange happened.

When I at last grasped what he meant, I took it to me like a truth.    His opinion passed by my critical “opinion filter” and took place like as the truth in my head.

It was first in the evening, when I thought it all through, that I realised: “stop and proof”, I don’t think like that.     Then when I also then thought about the fear many of the others felt in order not to have the correct answer when the headmaster asked them out, the thing was clear.    This was as clear as noonday a case of brainwashing.    You could see pupils that were as white as a sheet of fear to end up in the loophole of the headmaster and the TG.   They were happy if they had got the TGs opinion at all when they got the question.   They neither had the time nor dared to critical judge if the TGs opinion was agreed with theirs.   They were just happy if they didn’t have to be stoned.

Then I didn’t really know anything about brainwashing, mind control or “thought reform”, as it’s called in Swedish.   I could just establish that this was a simple, but alas effective technique to get people to absorb a certain opinion.   I remember that I was ever so impressed that the teachers were such good judges of characters.   In some way they always knew what was going on at the school.

Espionage

One evening we were a gang pf pupils, both new and old, who were sitting down talking.  The funny thing was that almost the same topic was brought up at the morning assembly the day after.   Not exactly, but it led first to the same thing, to the same problems.   I didn’t reflect so much over it just then.

But it became current again one evening when someone knocked on my door.   It was one of the girls in a group who had been at the school a lot longer than I.   She was wanted to talk about a thing that had happened during the day.   She was afraid that I had misunderstood her and wanted for safety’s sake to explain some things.

She began by assuring me, very seriously, that the headmaster didn’t send her.    I laughed and said that I didn’t think so either.   We talked and had a nice time for awhile.  But when she would go, she became serious again and protested, once again, that she wasn’t sent by the headmaster.

That had me to very laboriously begin to open my eyes and see how things really were going on at the school.   The headmaster had after all a lot of spies among the faithful students, whom he sent out to get to know what was happening.    The headmaster and the TG knew all the time what the pupils discussed and which opinions they had.

Collect money

Besides our responsibility areas and the studies, we were also supposed to sell postcards for average 8,200 crowns per month per person.

When we were in Oslo for the first time, we had to fundraise in total 66,000 crowns in five days.

It was completely impossible.   We were out in the streets from 09.00 o’clock in the morning until 21.00 o’clock in the evening.   After that we ate in some restaurant where we had begged for food.   At 19.00 o’clock we had to be out again to sell in our predestined areas.   At 21.00 o’clock we went to a gym where we lived.   We finished the day by studying for some hours.

When I for the first time went to Oslo to sell postcards I had never heard anything negative about the movement.   I had of course seen some things that where weird, but when I asked they had answers for everything.

Bad reputation

After a day out on the streets of Oslo I was totally exhausted.   People almost spat at us, and told us one bad story after another about the school and the movement.   After three days I pulled on the handbrake and demanded an explanation from the headmaster and the teachers. When we started at the school, we had had to answer if we were doing drugs or not.    Now it was time for them to tell about their sins.

I was furious and asked why we had been thrown out in the streets, with no knowledge about the truth of the reputation of the movement. The headmaster was very upset and said that I didn’t have the right to accuse them.

It took from 9.00 o’clock in the morning until 21.00 in the evening to outline for the bad reputation.   Partly on direct questions from us about things we had heard in the town, and partly as an answer to my request that they would put all the cards on the table.   We would overhear anyway sooner or later.    On the evening everybody was satisfied. I was enough pleased in order to once again feel convinced.

The time went and many strange things happened.    I was still strong and it could go very hot in the general meetings.   I was, despite all, still devoted – but also critical.    It came often-front pupils that wanted talk.   I knew that they were sent by the headmaster and played along in this absurd game.

Doubts

After a while I observed that I was left more in peace, if I was walking around and looked as excessively happy as everybody else.    When I would go home for Christmas, I remember that I was difficult to accept the TGs mocking grin when they saw our joy about going home to our families to celebrate Christmas.   The TG would  be sure not go home to some ridiculously middle-class keeping of Christmas.   They would have a general meeting in Tvind and put up the strategy for the coming year. During the Christmas days I had got the time to think.   When I came back after the holiday a lot of new strange things happened, but then there was no longer time to think.

One day I demanded “time out” and said that I didn’t want to take part in any lessons.    I wanted to get the time to think through what this school / movement stood for and what I wanted and could stand for myself.

It wasn’t easy to think in peace, because the headmaster sent pupils who where suppose to talk me into being sensible every second minute.    I hid in the attic and got enough calm in order to part everything up, and  formulate in writing constructive criticism of the school and the TG.

I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t insane.  I rang up a former pupil at the school, who I knew was very critical.   With her support I could establish that it wasn’t me, but something wrong with the school.   I decided to quit.

Separation anguish

After have talked to the others I began laboriously to pack.   In my head all the memories passed by, and the painful thing was, that now it wasn’t all the boring and heart-rending things I thought of, but just the nice and fun memories.

I had become very attached to the other pupils and didn’t want to leave them.    It began to go around in my head, and I thought it was a shame if the TG would cause me to leave all these wonderful people.    If I stay, I do violence on myself.    But if I leave them, I do as much violence on my feelings.

Then I can equally be left together with my friends. I   had anyway found a lot of nice things here at the school.    If I just could ignore the headmaster and the TG, pretend that they don’t exist, then it would be all right.   The other pupils were happy that I would try to stay.

But the TG wasn’t happy and called  a general meeting the same evening.   Now would all the doubts come up on the table, not just mine, but everybody’s doubts.   I was now on the limit to a breakdown.   I had neither eaten nor slept properly the last days. The psychological pressure was at the limit of what I could manage.   Sometimes everything became black around me and I just heard voices. The smallest emotional dissipation would be able to make me collapse, so I decided not to say a word.    Despite that the TG provoked it didn’t appear any criticism.    The pupils knew what would happen if they opened their mouths.

I mumbled something about that just now I didn’t care about which methods and which philosophy the TG had.    I just wanted to try to stay tuned along with the nice people that I had met at the school.   It went a swish of recognition among the pupils, because it was exactly the way most of them reasoned.

The defection

That night I didn’t get a wink of sleep. The following day I didn’t hear a word of what was said at the lessons.   In the evening I talked with the others, and said that now it’s enough.   No more life under the TGs wings for me. I   was by the way not the smallest interested of going to Africa in their management any longer.

I slept at the station and in the morning I took the train to Oslo.  There I had made an appointment with some friends in the evening.   I would stay with them for a couple of days.

I felt all other than good when I came to Oslo.   I stumbled around during the day, afraid of myself and with a persecution complex that almost got me to hit a guy who was just asking for light.   Thoughts about suicide twisted around in my head.

Dan Lindbergh

“A bunch of Stalinists….”

Hi, Great site!!  Keep up the wonderful work.  Reading through the stories on the site does bring back a lot of thoughts and memories.  I was on IICD’s program to Nicaragua during 1989-1990 in a group headed by Eric Newman. It was the 2nd or 3rd year of IICD and we were the first group to move into the Williamsburg facility. I think we were lucky because it was only the first year that the Danes were in full force and the Tvind mentality had yet to really take hold. Still an authoritarian and “its-best-not-to-question” mentality was evident in the way that Eric attempted to run our group and the way the Danes in general controlled the school.

It was such a crazy experience. I remember some crazy talks where Mikael Noring promoted the glories of North Korea, presented a just plain bizarre history of rice cultivation, and argued that Pol Pot wasn’t so bad!! It would have been amusing accepted for the fact that he honestly believe what he was saying.

I now characterize IICD as a bunch of Stalinists who were very interested in communal living and decision making as long as we all agreed to what Ester and Mikael had already decided. In particular, IICD was very insistent that all participants do door to door canvassing because it was the most efficient way to meet the “target goal”. Of course, it was never really clear what the basis for the goal was and we were strongly discouraged from exploring that or looking into alternative fund-raising techniques.

My group was lucky because the five months we spent in Nicaraguan was organized in partnership with a real development non-profit on the ground in Nica. They actually had experience, expertise, and had put together a good project for us to work on. I just shutter to think what it would have been like if we had been on the groups that went to Angola and Mozambique  which were working with the Tvind group. I know a couple of people who simply left the African projects when it became evident that not much of value was taking place.

We never really had any idea of how IICD finances worked and the money that had been budgeted to our group had a habit of disappearing or changing with little explanation. For example, in Nicaragua, Eric told us that part of our group’s traveling budget would come from the sale of a broken down schoolbus that IICD had left down their the previous year!!

In the end, I think about half of the people in all the groups (Nica, Moz, Angola, Cent. America, and Brazil) who started out left by end of the program. My group started with 13 but only half came back to IICD after the five months in Nica. Of the 7 remaining most of us left after a few weeks.

It was just too frustrating to continue to deal with Eric, IICD and their mounting pile of contradictions and obfuscations.

The thing that I think IICD is most guilty of taking young, idealistic, altruistic people and then exposing them to an extremely manipulative and controlling lifestyle while telling them that this is what alternative development and communal living is all about. In the end participants in their programs can either adopt the same manipulative techniques or leave disillusioned. I’m just happy that I was also interacting with other groups and people working on development so it was obvious just how screwy IICD’s approach was.

I would strongly, strongly advise anyone interested in IICD to look into other programs. The IICD sales pitch is very alluring and they use all the right keywords, but the day to day reality is completely different. There are a lot of good organizations out there which will help you volunteer in overseas development programs and don’t come with the weird baggage of IICD. (Check out http://www.volunteerinternational.org/ or http://www.lafetra.org/ for listings.)

Anyway, enough of my rambling. Thanks for doing such a great job at putting out info on IICD and Tvind. Please let me know if there is anything I could do to help.

Regards,

Matt Z

P.S. Please feel free to post this on your website