Impact Stories: Sharing and commonality
The magic of group dynamics
This Wednesday seems calm: no visits, no walks, no meetings. No cosmopolitan culinary
creations or faraway expeditions, but a gathering of tired people sitting in a circle at home. We’ve been seeing each other for a while, but we’re moving quietly through the meeting. We approach each other as we conceive of this project: through action and movement. The South African team discusses the history of their community, and we begin to piece together a large puzzle. For over a year, we’ve known who’s who, who does what, who carries what, and who follows. We have
charts and notes initiated with colorful logos and schedules for the year. We have the ability to organize the elements of this project in a logical and rational way. But the story of a collective construction transforms the puppets into animated bodies, and we take our place in this great story.
Getting to know each other and understanding what we share took time. We had to admit that things were unfinished, under construction, and imperfect. Once we shared this admission of weakness, we learned to listen to what was unfolding behind the words. It was when we acknowledged that this project would evolve and be tinged with slow transformations that things became real. We understood then that Amava Oluntu had been created by magicians, invisible powers that come together to create an invulnerable creative force. So, in the circle this Wednesday, rather than seeing the inertia of a circle of tired people, I saw sparks circulating to outline the contours of a project. For the construction of our future projects, I draw from this the acceptance of long periods and collective dynamics. We are currently creating the festival we are organizing in Aniane, and the
group dynamics encountered inspire us. The distribution of speaking time, joint construction, and connections as a basis for the project are themes on which attention will be paid.
Milena Lachmanowits, L’Engrainé (France)
Sowing Seeds of Change: A Morning of Harvest, Sustainability, and Learning in Vrygrond
The air was crisp as we stepped into the Vrygrond Peace Garden, the early morning light casting a golden glow over rows of flourishing vegetables. Harvesting food with one’s own hands brings a deep sense of connection—pulling up root vegetables still dusted with earth, snipping fresh herbs that fill the air with fragrance, gathering spinach and chard in armfuls. This was an act of engagement with the land, a reminder that sustainability is lived through action. The garden, nurtured with care and intention, stands as a testament to the power of local food systems and mindful stewardship.
From the garden, baskets of fresh produce made their way to Muiz Kitchen, where A Longer Table had arranged a no-waste cooking event. The space filled with movement and conversation as ingredients were prepared with precision and care. Spinach stems became crisp bhajia, served with a rich aioli made entirely from food scraps. Pasta, created from surplus bread, paired with tomatoes and spinach harvested that morning. Overripe bananas and bread waste blended into a warm, spiced banana bread. Every dish challenged conventional ideas about waste, proving that mindful preparation and creativity transform overlooked ingredients into nourishing meals. Hands chopped and stirred as voices shared reflections on sustainability, food traditions, and the experience of cooking for a gathered community. The process unfolded with a rhythm of its own, where learning emerged through direct experience.
The importance of gatherings like this reaches far beyond the kitchen. Across many regions, food security remains fragile, waste accumulates, and sustainability requires urgent attention. These challenges call for practical solutions shaped by creativity and resourcefulness. Working with food at this level teaches a way of thinking that extends into many fields—recognising opportunity where others see limitation, developing practical responses to environmental issues, and understanding the value of materials at every stage of their use. These experiences provide young people with essential tools to shape their surroundings and strengthen their ability to contribute meaningfully to their communities.
This approach to learning offers a way forward for those who work with young people. Youth work is active and engaged, creating opportunities for hands-on experience and personal agency. It is about building confidence in decision-making, encouraging innovation, and making space for new ideas to take root. Learning is not confined to formal spaces. It happens through participation, through trial and error, through shared meals and practical tasks. The kitchen, the garden, the conversations in between—all of these moments deepen understanding.
Collaboration brings this work to life. No single person holds all the knowledge, and each perspective enriches the whole. This event was the result of many hands, each contributing their skills and insights. Partnerships between organisations, cultural exchanges, and shared experiences create opportunities that reach far beyond one place or one gathering. This approach strengthens communities by weaving together relationships of mutual support and knowledge-sharing.
These experiences reinforce my own work, where upcycled materials become products that challenge wastefulness and reshape perceptions of value, where art and education become springboards for lasting change. My life and work is not just about sustainability, but about economic opportunity, environmental responsibility, and the idea that things that are discarded still hold potential. The same awareness applied in the kitchen, where surplus food became a meal shared among many. This way of working shapes decisions and affirms a commitment to sustainability in every action.
As the day came to a close, the scent of fresh herbs and warm banana bread lingered in the air. Conversations carried on, ideas took shape, and connections deepened through shared effort. These moments create momentum, reinforcing the understanding that change begins through action, through collaboration, through the ability to see new possibilities within what is already present.
Zaid Philander, Amava Oluntu (South Africa)
Trust
We began in Italy. We began the slow, delicate process of learning how to emotionally sit in a circle. To be present, to let others in.
Then we went to South Africa. And something came alive. We realized the depth of what it means to belong, to connect across histories and borders.
And then, we arrived in Germany. To trust. I was in Mannheim for a week of job shadowing, and from the very first moments, I felt free.
To Ask.
To Share.
To Value.
I saw it as a kind of bridge builder.
Walking through the city, I began to see Mannheim as a living laboratory of transformation.
Different cultures pulsed through its neighborhoods. You could taste them in the food, hear them in the languages, see them in the murals and public spaces.
During one session, I found myself opening up about doubts I hadn’t voiced before. I shared and I was met with curiosity. That’s when I realized: I trust this place. And I trust myself in it. It’s easy to underestimate the power of that. For those of us working in youth empowerment—especially with young people navigating migration, marginalization, or trauma—trust is the foundation.
If Italy was about seeing each other, and South Africa about feeling our shared humanity, then Germany was about learning what we do with that awareness. I saw models of leadership rooted in facilitation, not authority. I saw spaces designed for co-creation. I saw youth being invited into complexity, not shielded from it. And I began to wonder:
How do I create this kind of trust in my own work?
How do I carry this forward?
Looking back, I now see this SEEDs 4 Youth journey as a movement across inner (personal and working) landscapes as much as geographic ones.
Ivana Ristovska, Eufemia (Italy)
Brunch
We had the opportunity to participate in a neighborhood brunch in Mannheim, bringing together community members, institutions, and residents. This lunch was an opportunity to meet up with people we’d previously encountered during the week and to connect with all these partners. The idea is for each
person to bring a dish they’ve cooked to share with others. The various dishes form a giant buffet from which everyone helps themselves before sitting around large tables conducive to mingling. In front of it, there’s an open public space, and children’s games allow for a peaceful, family-oriented, and serene
experience.
The appeal is multiple. First and foremost, this brunch allows for cooking and, therefore, for sharing. It’s through cooking that it’s possible to retrace stories of migration, family narratives, and little-known sensorial experiences. It’s also an opportunity to eat together. If we start from the idea that food is a
language, it opens up a whole space for conversation for the people gathered around the table.
The meal is also linked to a family space, and sharing it in this place confirms that it is a public place, open to all. It gives a different symbolism to the space, and the time of a morning gives the feeling that each person has their place in the human group.
This brunch also allows social program beneficiaries to change their relationship with the professionals who support them. Professional barriers fall and informality takes over. Each person takes on an equal
role for a while.
Food also allows us to attract people who are wary of these types of meeting places and to introduce them to other possibilities, programs, and unknown potential. It seems harsh to me to speak directly about social issues, but making sure to forget them for a few moments in a neutral setting changes the
perspective. The space is no longer identified as an external and uninteresting place, but as a part of the public sphere to be appropriated.
For all these reasons, I loved this brunch and I loved beginning to understand the network, the connections forged between the protagonists of this neighborhood.
In France, we decided to use the first day of the festival as a meeting space. Each person will bring food, and we’ll share it around a large table with our Italian, German, and South African hosts. People, dishes, and languages will meet. This meal won’t be the same as in Mannheim, but it will be inspired by it and
retain its flavor.
Milena Lachmanowits, L’Engrainé (France)
I Am Because You Are
The ocean greeted us before anything else did.
As we drove into Muizenberg, our car followed a road lined with quiet movement. Dozens of people were walking along its edges, heading toward work, many coming from the nearby townships. And later, when we finally stood before the sea and listened to its waves, it struck me: they are the ocean.
Not just those walking that morning, but the generations they carried with them. A human tide, steady, dignified, full of history and quiet resilience. They moved like waves: persistent, patient, powerful. Unnoticed by many, but shaping everything around them. This became the deepest truth of our journey: we were not only here to learn from each other, but also from the land and the people who move through it each day. The ocean, in all its forms, is breath. It had carried ancestors, refugees, traders, and colonizers. It had both separated and connected continents.
What stood out during our stay was that nature was cultural ground. In many indigenous and local traditions, nature holds a central anthropological role. It is not something humans dominate, but a living entity with which we are in relationship.
It was ubuntu. A Southern African philosophy translated as “I am because you are”. It speaks to our interconnectedness, the belief that our humanity is bound together through mutual care and recognition.
We returned to the ocean every day. It became our informal classroom, our mirror, and our sanctuary. What we discovered in Muizenberg was a way of being. One that invites us to slow down, to listen, to belong. Ubuntu, we realized, is not just a philosophy of community, it is a way to exist in the world with humility and care. It is a reminder that our strength comes not from individualism, but from interconnection. The same way waves cannot exist without the ocean, we cannot exist without each other.
It is healing.
In Muizenberg, we came seeking tools for youth empowerment. What we found was a renewed sense of wholeness, held by the ocean, by the people, and the spirit of ubuntu.
Ivana Ristovska, Eufemia, Italy