When I arrived in Antuanuu Community in October 2024 as a CorpsAfrica Volunteer, I didn’t know a single person. I didn’t speak the language. I didn’t even know how or where to begin. Everything was unfamiliar; the people, the environment, the culture. It was exciting, yes, but also overwhelming. Deep down, I wondered:
How am I supposed to make a difference in a place I barely understand?

But time has a way of teaching you. So I listened. I learned. I stumbled. I asked for help. And most importantly, I kept showing up. Slowly, I started picking up the language. I learned local customs, jokes, even how to interpret unspoken feelings. The community started to open up, and eventually, they let me in, not just as a volunteer, but as one of their own.

Together, we dreamed big. Our original vision was to build a permanent community hall; a space where people could gather, celebrate, hold meetings, and connect. But after several attempts to raise the money, we had to be honest with ourselves: it simply wasn’t financially possible at that moment.

At first, it felt like failure. But then, something shifted.

We asked ourselves, what can we do with what we have? That’s when the idea of a tent and 200 chairs came up. It wasn’t the grand structure we had imagined; but it was real, and within our reach. More importantly, it could serve the same purpose: creating a shared space.

By the end of May 2025, we had raised over 25% of the total project budget. And this didn’t come from large donors, it came from within the community. People contributed what they could. We sold bananas, cassava, pawpaw, handmade soap. It was hard work, but every coin counted. And every contribution reminded us: this dream belonged to everyone.

Then came the big day: 6th June 2025.
The day we officially launched our Community Tent and Chairs Project.

The celebration was beautiful. There was dancing, singing, and speeches. The joy in the air was something I’ll never forget. I looked around at the crowd: children laughing, elders smiling, neighbors hugging and I felt overwhelmed with pride.

In that moment, the tent wasn’t just a tent. The chairs weren’t just chairs.
They were a symbol of unity, of resilience, of what’s possible when a community believes in itself.

Looking back to when I first arrived; quiet, unsure, unfamiliar, I never imagined I’d be standing in front of a completed project that we had built together. I didn’t just witness this journey; I was part of it.

We may not have the community hall (yet), but we’ve built something far more powerful: a space, a sense of ownership, and a reminder that real change comes from within.

This project has taught me something I’ll carry for the rest of my life:
Development is not about how big the structure is. It’s about how strong the people behind it are.

And in this community, I’ve found strength, love, and belonging.
We did it—and we’ll keep going.