On Friday 1st July 2005 I sat on the train to London where I would meet the DiA bus to Edinburgh. Ever since Development in Action had joined the coalition of NGOs in the Make Poverty History Campaign, this was the weekend that we had looked forward to. I was on my way to the one event where we could shout about fundamental issues such as trade and debt and make the important people listen.

That is, if the train would move.

About 45 twitchy, agonising, minutes later it was announced that the train was not going to London at all, but instead diverting us to somewhere called ‘Baldock’ and returning to Cambridge. ‘Where’s Baldock?’ was the ensuing cry that rose up around the carriage. Turns out that Baldock is a mythical place that hardly exists at all, except in the minds of all 4 residents. There are no buses, and rarely ever any trains, as indicated by the large turnout to witness the spectacle of the London commuters pouring into the Baldockian streets. Undoubtedly the most spectacular part of the show was the mad girl in pigtails refusing to budge from the platform, sobbing into a Development in Action T-shirt and mumbling to herself something about Scotland.

Needless to say, I missed the bus. However with virtually the entire DiA committee on the case for me, the situation was turned around in minutes, as ‘friend of a friend’ (later suspected to be the friend of a friend’s second-cousin) was fished out from nowhere who was not only driving up to Edinburgh, but didn’t even mind waiting for an indefinite period as I found my way out of Baldock. Such was the atmosphere of the day and the affinity felt between fellow campaigners.

Stopping for coffee somewhere in the very north of England we inadvertently found the DiA bus. I am ashamed to say that I dumped my saviour there and then (he was probably pleased to have the liberty of choosing the radio station again) and joined the dudes on the affectionately-named ‘Bus of Love’. Actually, a minority of said dudes had previously had anything to do with DiA. I was heartened to hear that there was a great deal of ‘buzz’ around the organisation and what we were trying to achieve. And even more so at the lack of objections to putting crazy Tamil music on the loudspeakers late into the night.

It was quite possible that after such an eventful journey that the rally itself would be a bit of a let-down. Fortunately these fears were completely unfounded: The rally was everything we expected and more. The DiA stand (a hasty combination of boards and posters and embroidered throws and Bombay mix) looked surprisingly top-notch and the passers-by whom we accosted humoured us at least enough to take a leaflet and some free food.

The highlight of the event was the march, designed to create a white-band around Edinburgh formed by thousands of white Tshirts (coincidently exactly the same shade as the DiA promotional T-shirts). Scheduled to take one hour, it took us about five, although a mixture of the most inspiring and energetic samba bands in the world and the general goodwill of the crowd made the atmosphere electric. We all felt as if we were saving the world simply by standing there. Especially as the only reason it took so long was due to the unexpected volume of people who showed up to support the cause. Development in Action’s huge banner (sometimes slipping and becoming ‘Development in Acton’ which we thought was a similarly legitimate cause to promote) was carried proudly by a massive contingent of committee members, volunteers, and randomly acquired DiA fans.

At the end of the day, when I’d settled down at my friend’s house, snuggled and warm, I had time to reflect on what had dragged me up there in the first place. Was it merely the adventure, travelling a seriously long way to jump on the bandwagon and make some noise? Was what I was doing any more ‘ethical’ than all the crazed teenagers that flocked to Hyde Park to see Madonna kissing African children? Did I, in my heart of hearts, believe that standing around in that field the following day was actually going to make any kind of difference?

Well yes, actually, I did. And even after the event my feelings to that effect could not have been stronger. DiA has long recognised one of the main obstacles it confronts when inspiring interest in global issues, is the huge force of negative stereotypes ingrained in our society. It’s not that the majority of people aren’t disturbed and concerned about world poverty, just that we detach ourselves from it because we can’t deal with its enormity. After all, are there not wars and famines in every country other than our safe little island? What on earth can one person do to change any of that?

The key to the whole Make Poverty History Campaign was the subtle empowerment of the ordinary people in the UK. Suddenly we were being told that we could make a difference to world poverty, just by wearing a white band or standing in a field. To me, whether a million white bands made an immediate impact in the developing world or not was kind of irrelevant. Because the real impact of the campaign took place right here in the UK, in the attitudes and behaviour of people.

Standing on that field, accompanied by 225 000 others all backing the same cause (among them people who would change their entire travel plans to get a fellow MPH-er to the rally) it was impossible to believe that you were one person against the world. Things like buying Fair Trade, rather than being a tokenistic gesture, became of fundamental importance. After all, you don’t want to let the 225 000 ‘buddies’ with you on that field down, do you?

The Edinburgh march may or may not have had an impact on those very important men sitting round a table at the G8 summit. But to me that doesn’t mean we should question its worth. When DiA is encouraging newly-returned volunteers to engage with global issues, to channel their enthusiasm to a positive end and to continue the activism that kept them going in India, it is to campaigns like Make Poverty History that we can point. Despite having missed the bus (or because of it?) I can still claim that this was one of the most empowering and inspirational journeys of my life.

Mandarin Bennet