Describe a time you did something to help your community

I'd like to talk about some classes I organised last year for old people in my neighbourhood in Medellín. Every Saturday morning, for two months, I taught them how to use their smartphones in the community hall.

The reason I did it was my grandmother. One day she received a call from a man who said he is from her bank, and she gave him her password. She lost a lot of money from her savings. After that I realised that many old people in my neighbourhood have the same problem, they have a smartphone but they don't know to use it safely. So I put a notice in the bakery and fifteen people came to the first class.

The people who benefited was mostly retired people, between sixty and eighty years. I taught them how to make video calls, how to pay the bills by the app, and how to recognise a fake message. My favourite student was Don Hernán. His daughter lives in Madrid since ten years, and in our third class he saw her face on a video call for the first time. Everybody was clapping.

I felt very tired after each class because they asked the same question many times, but I felt also very useful. I think I learned a lot of patience, and now people in the street say hello to me with big smile.

Something I did for my community was run a series of smartphone classes for older people in my neighbourhood in Medellín. Last year, for eight Saturday mornings in a row, I borrowed the community hall and taught a group of pensioners how to use their phones.

What prompted it was my grandmother. A man rang her pretending to be from her bank, and she ended up to give him her security details. She lost a good part of her savings, and it really shook her. When I started asking around, I realised loads of older neighbours were in the same position: their children had bought them smartphones, but nobody had actually shown them how to use them safely. So I stuck a notice up in the local bakery, and fifteen people turned up to the first session.

The people who benefited were mainly retired people in their sixties and seventies. We covered video calls, paying bills through the bank app, and above all how to spot a scam message. The moment I'll never forget was when Don Hernán, whose daughter has been living in Madrid for a decade, saw her face on a video call for the first time. The whole room burst into applause.

Honestly, it was more exhausting than I expected, because I had to explain the same thing again and again. But I came away feeling genuinely useful, and I've become a lot more patient. These days half the street stops me to say hello, which is a nice bonus.

The thing I'd point to is a set of phone classes I ran for older residents in my neighbourhood in Medellín. Over eight consecutive Saturdays last year, I took over the community hall from nine till twelve and helped a group of pensioners get to grips with their smartphones.

It started with my grandmother. Someone phoned her posing as her bank, talked her into reading out her security code, and emptied a good chunk of her savings before she realised. What upset me almost as much as the money was how ashamed she felt. Once I started mentioning it, it turned out that half the older people on our street had phones their children had given them and no idea how to use them without being taken advantage of. So I pinned a handwritten notice up in the bakery, expecting maybe four people. Fifteen showed up.

The people who gained most were those pensioners, mostly in their late sixties and seventies. We worked through video calls, paying bills on their banking apps, and above all how to tell a genuine message from a scam. The highlight, without a doubt, was Don Hernán, whose daughter moved to Madrid ten years ago, seeing her face on his screen for the first time; the whole hall erupted.

It was more draining than I'd anticipated, I'll admit, because some questions came up every single week. But I've rarely felt so useful, and it taught me a kind of patience I didn't know I had. It's also changed how I see my street: I know my neighbours now, rather than just recognising them.