He Tāngata: Guiding manager Mary-Ann Rowland

Lamayuru temple in Leh ladakh. Photo / Getty Images

Elisabeth Easther talks to the Guiding manager, Tiritiri Matangi Island.

I went to an Anglican school in Auckland, and we had a chaplain who used to take us once a week for religious studies. One day, when I was in the sixth form, he told us about the six main religions and the minute I heard about Buddhism it hit something inside me.

In 1972, a slow boat to India was the start of my 47-year love affair with that beautiful country and also with travelling. My partner and I spent two years in India and when the money ran out we travelled to England to work. It wasn't very easy to save there, so we headed down to South Africa where we managed to make enough money to get a boat back to India. In Cape Town, the propeller fell off the boat before it got to Durban which meant we had two months to fill in, so we hitchhiked from Durban to Mombasa through some pretty remote areas, mostly on the back of a copper truck. The music in the small villages was beautiful, although a goat being slaughtered on the front doorstep wasn't.

In Kenya, we were waiting to catch the boat to go back to India. We were waiting on the beach, I had a bag over my shoulder, with just my bikini top and 10 shillings in it and this guy tried to steal it. I stupidly fought back and he pulled out this huge panga knife. He had me by the arm, and was swinging the knife at my throat — I put my hand up to stop it and he cut one finger in half and the top off another one. I was wearing a large ring and it possibly saved my life. The hand needed 30 stitches and they were due to come out while we were on the boat back to India. I went to the ship's surgeon, but quickly realised he was an alcoholic. It was the morning and he had the shakes quite badly so I said, "how about I come back in an hour?" ... when he'd had a drink. And I'd had one too. But it still really hurt.

Today I'm the guiding manager on Tiritiri Matangi, an open scientific reserve in the Hauraki Gulf. I fell in love with the island many years ago and, when I was working at Northcote College, I often took overseas students out. One day I saw someone signing up to be a guide and I ran over and said, "what do you have to do to be a guide?" I discovered that anyone could do it, and for three and a half years I was a guide, coming out once a fortnight for my "mental health" day. When the guiding manager position came up, I was lucky enough to get it and I've been here 11 years now, spending five days on the island and two days off. In that time I've learnt to live incredibly simply. I love how the volunteers put their time, love and energy into Tiritiri Matangi. There's an atmosphere that pervades the whole island and there's never a day I don't feel grateful to be here.

Six years ago I spent a month in Ladakh in northern India where I met people who would be fine if all the mod cons we depend on in the Western world just disappeared. Their lives are totally sustainable, they grow all their own food, build their own houses and make their own clothes. The only thing they have that's not local is the glass in their windows. But things are changing, the modern world has hit, the people are getting bugs they've never had before and, with global warming, the glaciers are melting.

I felt like a fly on the wall. I was drawn to the country and its ability to do so well in difficult conditions. I started thinking about how the people could be helped and, after speaking to a good friend, Odette Phillips, a doctor working with Aboriginal communities in Outback Australia, we decided to see if we could set up medical camps for the nomads of Ladakh. Another friend, a dentist from Argentina, was also keen so, with help from Namgyal Taklha, the Dali Lama's sister-in-law, and various wonderful locals, we were able to make it work.

This will be our third year taking medical assistance to these communities and we hope to make it an annual thing. We all go as volunteers, offering free consultations and medicine, and we also make a donation to each community we visit, so as not to be a burden on their resources. The nomads are astounded when we look up their medical notes and provide continuity of treatment. It's pretty tough living in these places but what we have learned from these openhearted, generous people is priceless.

• Medical missions cost $20,000 just to cover expenses. For more information or to donate, please email: ladakhmedicalaidsociety@gmail.com

Further information: see tiritirimatangi.org.nz