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A growing number of NGOs are offering package tours to developing countries so that donors can see their work in action The first thing Takayo Minakami did when she and her nine-year-old daughter Ghislaine got back from their trip to Ethiopia was sack the nanny. Then she told her husband there was no need to go for the fancy new wardrobe they had been eyeing up as part of a major overhaul of their Seattle home. The cheapest model would do fine. Meanwhile, Ghislaine stopped fighting with her younger brothers and kept hugging them at random moments, for no particular reason. “It was supposed to be a life-changing experience. But it was even better than we expected,” says Takayo. Takayo, 41, and Ghislaine were part of a group of similar well-off housewives and their daughters and nieces aged between seven and 17 who recently flew from Seattle to Addis Ababa on a package tour organised by an aid agency. Over a week, the group took in the sights, markets and flavours of the capital city like any other tourists. But most of their time was spent on a dusty journey to villages two hours’ drive away, where they met some of the country’s poorest people, learned about their lives and checked out – among other things – their toilet facilities. Water 1st is a Seattle-based non-governmental organisation that specialises in water sanitation and is one of a growing number of NGOs taking westerners on package tours to developing countries to see their work. The “water tour” brochure for February’s Ethiopia trip promised would-be travellers a “once in a lifetime experience”, with the aid agency providing transport, translators, accommodation, food and contact with the communities and the local aid agency that Water 1st works with. “It’s a better way of seeing real life in a country than you can see any other way,” says Kirk Anderson, one of the five staff who run Water 1st, which has raised $4m (£2.4m) for projects in four countries since its launch in 2005. “We try to make this affordable for as many people as possible while covering our costs,” he adds. The trip, excluding flights, cost $1,600 (£980) a head. “We don’t demand anything in return. But we make our money in donations when people get back home.” Some donors increase their donations from three figures to five figures, while others become loyal fundraisers for life. Those who went on the Ethiopia trip said they had an “awesome”, inspiring time and learned a lot. The children were “like sponges”, said one mother, absorbing the reality of a world where children laugh and take care of each other despite having flies crawling on their faces and no shoes. “The children were very dirty, very happy and excited and very welcoming. I played with a little girl who was really cute and super smart,” says Ghislaine, who is eager to go back. The group is aware that critics may accuse them of poverty tourism – paying to look at the poor to assuage their guilt. But most of those who travelled to Ethiopia talk of something more positive. “We live in a little bubble – we are comfortable, we have nice houses, food on our plates, clean water,” says Susan Sercu, 39, who took her 12-year-old daughter Giuliana on the trip. “What this does is give us more of a global perspective. It’s a chance to expose our children to what happens in the rest of the world. We want our children to be empathetic and informed. “I don’t feel bad about spending the money because it was educational and now we can be a kind of spokesperson, hopefully spreading the word.” Most of the Seattle families had never been to Africa or a developing country and felt reassured to be accompanied by experts. Anderson says the Ethiopians the group visited were thrilled to meet westerners who had come so far to find out about their lives. So is this the future for development agencies? To show people and not just tell people how hard life is for the poorest of the world’s population? And will this become the ultimate way for the discerning donor to decide if an agency deserves his or her support? For some time, aid agencies specialising in child sponsorship have made ad hoc arrangements, despite the time and resources this demands of local staff, for individual donors to meet the child they support. Many also take major donors, board members and policy-makers on “immersion” trips. And many run volunteer working trips and fundraising adventure holidays. Last year, for the first time, the US branch of Plan International turned to a specialist travel agency to organise a group donor trip to Ghana. Elevate Destinations says that its “donor tourism” business is growing fast – it is organising trips to three more countries this year for Plan USA donors alone. Many though, and particularly those focused on emergency relief, are scathing of the idea of an aid agency regularly taking larger groups of visitors to see its work. Two years ago MSF Switzerland instituted a policy of taking donors to the field two at a time. But, says communications chief Laurent Sauveur, “we are a far cry from any concept of humanitarian tourism. We are not acting as a tour agency.” But while emergency relief agencies can count on surges in compassion when disaster strikes, development agencies realise that to build lasting connections between donors and their beneficiaries, increasingly the donor needs to get something back. “Providing an ‘experience’ [for donors] is coming more to the fore,” says Richard Turner, fundraising director at the UK’s ActionAid, which specialises in child sponsorship. Actionaid’s latest publicity campaign reflects this. Under the slogan “What a feeling”, a donor says: “I didn’t just change the world. I changed myself. And what a feeling!” And the reader is then urged to “get yours today”. Aid Sophie Arie guardian.co.uk