Mountain Spirit
With peak caps on their heads and clutching the straps of their backpacks, the 45 teenagers from high schools in some of Cape Town's poorest communities chattered excitedly. Having enjoyed breakfast at the Pride of Table Mountain Project (PTM) office in Claremont, they were eager to leave for Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens, from where they would hike up to the scenic Contour Path. The group quietened down: their hike leader was starting to speak.

Lindela Mjenxane looked like he was just another member of the group. At 18, he was a slightly-built high school learner and township resident, but he knew all about the journey of discovery that lay ahead that sunny Saturday morning in February 2001. As his eyes scanned the group, his confident, calm voice explained the rules of the mountain. "Take your time, don't push yourself too hard," he warned. "Remember to sip your water sparingly: it has to last until we finish."

Every second Saturday, the PTM uses young volunteers to take a group of between 45 and 60 kids from disadvantaged communities on an educational day trail up Table Mountain. For youngsters who often know nothing of the world beyond their neighbourhoods, being exposed to the natural environment is unforgettable.

"That day leaves a lasting impression," says Erica Widelko, manager of PTM, who has been with the project since its inception in 1996. "They take an interest in their environment and we hope that, as our future leaders, they'll promote conservation."

Lindela well understands how nature can shape kids' attitudes. He was born near Lady Frere in the Eastern Cape and, like so many rural children, was brought up by his grandmother when his mother left to find work in Cape Town. The rolling green hills where he herded animals were his playground. He felt happy and free.

At the age of 12, his life changed abruptly when he joined his mother in Philippi, Cape Town. Lindela found the confines of township life stressful.

Table Mountain was a constant presence, but too far away to contemplate walking its slopes. Then he was invited by a friend to go on a hike in October 2000 as part of the PTM project. Noticing how taken he was by the beauty of his surroundings, Widelko asked him to become a volunteer hike guide. Over the next four years, Lindela progressed from being a learner guide to a team leader. Accompanying more than 4 000 township kids on hikes up the mountain, he helped them to broaden their horizons.

After matriculating, Lindela was employed by Table Mountain National Park as a tour guide on the Hoerikwaggo trails. For him, the mountain has become a place to heal, to escape the social ills of township life. "I get to listen to my inner self," he says, "and it makes me feel better."

Believing that the mountain could foster much more than an appreciation of nature in young people, he left the PTM and launched the Beyond Expectations Environmental Project in 2005, roping in three fellow tour guides and 13 volunteers from local communities. Their mission is not only for the kids to learn about littering and conservation, but more about themselves and their social environment. "Kids often find it easier to open up about their personal lives once they're in nature," he says. "The challenge of the hike is used to address the challenges in a person's life."

His efforts have not gone unnoticed. Last year, Lindela received the Premier's Award for Service Excellence. Now 25, this self-confident young man has many plans up his sleeve, including establishing much-needed food gardens in the townships.

Empowered Helper
As an activist for the South African National Council on Alcoholism and Drug Dependence (SANCA), Zanele Nhlapo of Ratanda near Heidelberg, Gauteng, is passionate about keeping fellow teens off drugs and alcohol.

It started in 2004, when she was 15 and her school's volleyball courts were closed for six months for repairs. Used to playing several times a week, she was dismayed at the prospect of having extra time on her hands. Then she heard about the Ratanda Children's Rights Committee, a community organisation that teaches kids about the Constitution. Zanele realised she did not know what her rights were and wanted to learn something new.

The more she learnt about children's rights, the more she started to notice things in her community. One day, she saw a toddler being physically and verbally abused by his mother. Shocked, Zanele wondered how she'd not known that such treatment was illegal.

Realising that many children struggled with problems at home and had no one to talk to, Zanele became a peer counsellor at her school. She learnt to mentor fellow pupils, providing a shoulder or a sympathetic ear and helping out academically.

One day, she and a fellow counsellor were asked by a teacher to speak to a "difficult" teenage boy who was no longer attending classes. Zanele won his confidence and, slowly, his story poured out as he told her about his difficulties at home. After listening and encouraging him to start coming to school again, Zanele put him in touch with a social worker. He's now back at school and doing well.

Some of the problems Zanele encountered as a peer counsellor were caused by substance abuse. To learn more about how she could help youngsters affected by drugs or alcohol, she became a youth volunteer at SANCA. Within three short months, she had been appointed the Youth Alive regional chairperson.

Under the auspices of SANCA, she started to inform the young community about the effects of alcohol and drugs. "I realised that something needed to be done to get the information out," says Zanele. She and her group offered recreation to young people who had little else to do. They held workshops at schools and churches, and organised debates, beauty pageants, sports events and the like.

Now in Grade 12, Zanele has had to give up peer counselling to focus on her schoolwork. But she still finds time to fulfil her role at SANCA, where she is planning future projects. And what of her personal future? She wants to study psychology next year. "It empowers me to help others," she says.

ROCK Star
At the age of four months, Xolisa Bodlo was diagnosed with haemophilia, an inherited disorder that prevents the blood from clotting. Because the slightest bump resulted in internal bleeding, he grew up watching other kids play and roughhouse in the streets outside his home in Khayelitsha, one of Cape Town's townships.

With his mother at work and his older sister at school, he was often alone at home suffering from head-aches and joint pains. "I'd feel this warm, bubbling in my knee and the pain would soon follow," says Xolisa. Often his mother had no choice but to leave him with whatever money she could spare so that he could get himself to the hospital.

When he was nine, on a doctor's recommendation, he was placed in St Joseph's home for young patients with long-term illnesses. There, his condition was not only properly managed for the first time, but he understood what was happening to him thanks to volunteers from the South African Haemophilia Foundation (SAHF). Surrounded by a support group and able to attend school regularly, Xolisa felt like a normal kid.

By the time he was 16, he was able to manage his own condition and moved back home. But Khayelitsha was very different from the protected environment at St Joseph's. Although relishing his new-found freedom, Xolisa now had to battle the ignorance of his peers. They teased him for avoiding physical contact. "Moffie," they called out when he refused to fight.

During hospital visits for treatment, Xolisa met other haemophiliacs – who also lacked knowledge about their illness, had no idea how to locate information and were stymied by the language barrier. He also saw how family members were affected. "The mothers would often just cry," he says. "Like my mother, they couldn't cope."

Realising how knowledge and support had changed his life, Xolisa approached SAHF chairman Bradley Rayner about becoming a community volunteer. Rayner liked the enthusiastic youngster and arranged for him to attend a weekend workshop on peer education for heamophiliacs. At the end of the weekend, armed with a cellphone and the book Haemophilia in Pictures, Xolisa was ready to launch a project in Khayelitsha.

Working with the treatment centre of Khayelitsha Day Hospital, he formed Reach Out Centre for Kids (ROCK). With a nursing sister, he visits the homes of haemophiliacs and acts as a translator, reaching those who otherwise might not understand the information. "I wouldn't like to see a kid crippled because of a language barrier," he says.

Now 20 and in Grade 12, he's a familiar sight as he rides around Khayelitsha on his bike, which he received, along with a computer, from Reach for a Dream earlier this year. After school and on weekends, he holds meetings to talk about his experiences – and to pass on information.

Backed by a committee of volunteers, dubbed ROCK stars, Xolisa's support group has become so successful that the SAHF plans to replicate it in other centres. In providing a link with the community, the young man has become a role model. He embodies the Foundation's mission to empower people to take responsibility for the management of their condition.

Shining Light
The sprawling, often hostile, urban landscape of Mitchell's Plain is a far cry from Cape Town's affluent Atlantic Seaboard precinct with its dramatic views and tree-lined avenues.

And yet, this is where Sea Point schoolgirl Sharron Isralls, 17, discovered the rewards of reaching out to those less privileged than herself, where she encountered foster mother Maria Solomons and spent time at her haven for abused and neglected children.

A Grade 12 pupil at Herzlia Senior High School in Highlands Estate, Sharron first visited Solomons' Haven two years ago to "suss it out" for herself. While searching for a challenging community project to apply her mind to – a requirement of her Jewish Studies syllabus – she read about Maria Solomons, who won the 2003 Cape Times/V&A Waterfront Woman of Worth Award in recognition of her efforts to shelter neglected children.

Sharron's interest was piqued and she has not looked back. In fact, thanks to her involvement, thousands of rands have been raised for Solomons' Haven in the last two years. The money will be used to extend the welcoming, but hopelessly too small, haven.

Ironically, it was the size of Maria and Alec Solomons' house that struck Sharron on her first visit to Mitchell's Plain. "It made a big impact... It was a warm, loving environment, but the conditions were unbelievable. There were about 17 children being put up in a very small space. I am a middle class Jew, and coming from my background and witnessing something like that, I felt quite guilty."

But she didn't scuttle away. Instead, Solomons' Haven became her community project and she visited Maria and the children every Wednesday afternoon. "I tried to help them with their reading and some basic language skills. I wanted to make a difference to their lives – I didn't only want to play with them."

So armed with worksheets and enthusiasm, Sharron became a regular at the haven. She got to know most of the children, helped them with their homework ("I was shocked at the level of their education") and, generally, put a smile on their faces.

By the time she had fulfilled the requirements of her project, Solomons' Haven had become an important part of her life. "I did not feel comfortable abandoning them – these are children who have a history of abandonment and I didn't want to add to that history."

Last year, when she was in Grade 11, she was elected head of the school's Interact Committee, and she convinced her fellow committee members to make the haven one of their main projects for the year. The group made a video and sent it to big corporations to create awareness and raise money. The good response prompted them to hold a breakfast fundraiser with Cape Town mayor Helen Zille as guest speaker. "We raised R20 000 and then encouraged the Culture Club to donate money from one of their fundraisers to the Solomons' Haven Fund. Today we have R40 000."

This year, onerous school commitments have curbed the time she has spent with Maria and the children, but she stays in touch. "I forged a very strong bond with Maria – her altruism has been an inspiration – and the children and the whole experience has changed the way I view life, and my priorities and values. I have grown as a person. It's been enriching."

Sharron is modest about how much she was able to achieve, but is content that she managed to "show the children a little sunshine".

Young volunteers like Lindela, Xolisa, Zanele and Sharron are growing in number. Last year, the government launched the National Youth Service Volunteer Campaign, a flagship of the National Youth Commission.

The "Proud to Serve' campaign encourages young people to invest in their own communities by volunteering. "Volunteers play a valuable role in society, but they sometimes get a bad name because they're perceived to replace someone in a paying job," says Hassen Lorgat of the South African NGO Coalition. "We're busy improving the infrastructure so that young volunteers and paid employees can work together."

Many young people still volunteer through existing, traditional organisations like the SPCA, Red Cross, Habitat for Humanity, NSRI and St John's Ambulance. But a growing number of teens are striking out on their own, creating solutions for their communities' problems in ways that are both innovative and highly successful.

The best ideas often come from the kids themselves, whether it's a fashion show for drug dependents or a children's Christmas party. Across South Africa young people are organising soup kitchens or toy drives, tutoring children, reading to seniors, cleaning up parks. And our communities are the better for it.