A Heart Always Remembers

Arusha, Tanzania is one of the most beautiful places on the planet; not because of the lush vegetation and vibrant colors, but because of the people. Walking around town, it is rare to pass a stranger that does not say hello and welcome you to Tanzania. Driving to the school, every child you see smiles and waves. At L.O.A.M.O, it is impossible to walk around school without being hugged and wished a good morning. The culture here is so overwhelmingly welcoming that in the short amount of time I have been here, I have found a place that will always be home.

It is for this reason that when I hear the word “Tanzania”, the first thought in my mind will be of smiling faces and beautiful laughter. I have seen elephants, lions, zebras, and more, but the students at L.O.A.M.O outshone them all. I have never felt so much love and gratitude radiating from one place, and it is hard for me to imagine it existing anywhere else. I have seen and done so much on this trip, but there isn’t enough time in the universe to accomplish everything. I am not ready to leave L.O.A.M.O, but I never will be. Even if I had stayed here for years, I would have always needed one more hug, one more dance, and one more smile.

I think that is what made Saturday’s goodbye the hardest one yet. Two of my students, Noel and Precious, muttered quiet “I love you”s through tight hugs. When I told them the same, their only question was “then why are you leaving?” Tears welled in my eyes and I was left utterly speechless. How do you explain that a plane ticket is your best excuse for leaving to two children who only want love? All I could do was pull them closer and whisper, “Because I know my heart will always remember you.” Precious nodded and wiped tears from my cheeks while Noel grabbed my hand for one last time and pressed a folded letter into my palm.

Watching their bus drive away, it did not feel like the last time I would see them. My brain said it was goodbye, but my heart knew that it would always return home. Maybe I’ll see the students at L.O.A.M.O next summer, or maybe I’ll never get the opportunity to see them again. Either way, we will sleep under the same stars and I will take comfort in the fact that I never truly left them, for you can never leave family.

Walking Miracles

                Poverty is a nearly impossible cycle to break. One of the only ways out is an education, and one of the only ways to get an education is to be financially stable. In Tanzania, public primary schools are taught in Swahili, but secondary school is taught in English. Because of this, many students that could not afford private primary school do not know English, so they drop out of school after class 7. As a result, they are less educated, which means they make less money, which means their children are more likely to drop out of school, putting the cycle on a never-ending loop. That is, until a miracle happens. A child is able to skip a grade, and as a result, their family scrapes together enough money to send them through form 2. That child then gets a higher paying job, and with the help of a sponsor is able to send their own child all the way through form 6. That child then grows up and is able to send the next generation all the way through university. In this way, a child with a great grandmother that that never finished grade 7 can earn a university degree. But this process takes generations and requires multiple miracles to occur.

                One of my favorite songs reflects this with the lyrics, “The world waits for a miracle”. I loved those lyrics until today. Looking around my classroom, I realized that my students are not looking for miracles, they are miracles. These children have every possible odd pinned against them. Many come from homes with no electricity, no water, and a million other excuses not to finish school. Despite this, speaking to the students and seeing how hard they work every day has made it clear that they want nothing of the sort. I have spoken to students who want to be teachers, doctors, or engineers, and speak of this as if it is their certain future. They are not waiting for a miracle; they are creating one by doing everything in their power to shape their future. They don’t think anyone will do it for them, and they wouldn’t ask anyone to. They demonstrate motivation, determination, and resilience in the rawest form.

                Every student at L.O.A.M.O knows a song with the lyrics, “I’m walking power, a walking miracle”. I hope with all my heart that these children believe those words, because they are the some of the most brilliant and capable people I have ever met. I know it is likely that many of them will never see their dreams come to fruition, but they are all bringing their families one step further from poverty. If their dreams do not come true, they will be passed on to their children, their grandchildren, and so on until they are achieved. I dream that in this way, the hope in my student’s eyes will never be lost, only transferred. They truly are, and always will be, walking miracles.

Time Well Spent

My first glimpse of Tanzania was the rocky summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro peeking through the clouds. Below these clouds, the rocks transformed into lush green fields. As we drove home, I noticed goats, cows, and smiles everywhere. I was greeted with enthusiastic waves from precious children, and joyful “karibu”s from their beautiful parents.

This welcoming greeting continued when I arrived at L.O.A.M.O, but the students were so shy that the conversation often ended there. By the next day however, the same students that had been embarrassed to tell me their names were laughing and screaming as they played their first round of trashketball. I had known the students were brilliant from the second I walked into the classroom, but in that moment, they became so much more than students. They are someone’s friend, someone’s sibling, and someone’s child. They are sweet, hilarious, and beautiful. They are students, but more importantly, they are people. Each of them has a story to be told, but it wasn’t until my home visit that I realized just how inspirational their stories are.

Lillian is 39 years old and has two sons, Enoch and Ebanezer. They are both in class four at L.O.A.M.O, and are some of the sweetest boys you will ever meet. From the outside, you would never know that they live in an 8x8 foot home with no water or electricity. Their bathroom consists of a singular toilet bowl dug into the ground, and a bucket of water. They share this bathroom with 20 other people. If you think that these conditions sound bad, the conditions that they came from were far worse.

When Enoch was one and Ebanezer was three, their father left them. The same man returned two years later and took the boys from Lillian. He made the boys work on his farm, and at only the ages of three and five, they would lead cows for miles with no shoes on their feet. When they got home, there was no dinner waiting for them. When one of the boys was nearly killed, Lillian began to hear stories of their inhumane treatment. She fought to get them back, and by the time Enoch was five and Ebanezer was seven, she succeeded. Lillian has been blind since she was two years old, but despite all of the challenges that this creates and the lasting pain that she endures in her eyes, Lillian has worked as hard as humanly possible to provide for her boys. She is one of the strongest, most inspirational women I have ever met, and I will never forget the love and gratitude that radiated from her home despite all of the hardships that her family has suffered.

I have been in Tanzania for less than a week, and I am already amazed by how incredible these people are. They have found hope and joy in people rather than possessions, and I strive to be as strong and loving as they are. It breaks my heart to think that I only have a week left with the students at L.O.A.M.O, but I plan on taking after the Tanzanian people and living in the moment. There will never be enough time, but I can always make the most of the time I have. After all, “[Time], if well [spent], is long enough.” -Seneca

The Art of Exposure

In the Vail Valley, people are skiers. That is simply the way it is: if you live in Vail, you ski. That is just part of Vail’s specific culture. There are other characteristics that can be used to stereotype Vail as well, just like there are for any other town, country, or region around the world. For example, if someone were to tell you they had a friend in Vail, you would likely picture a young, athletic, wealthy individual that for some reason doesn’t pronounce the letter “t”. In many cases, this assumption would be correct. Vail has a relatively homogenous population, all seemingly living in beautiful homes with beautiful views of the beautiful mountains. This has created what many refer to as “the perfect bubble effect”.

At first, this “perfect bubble” may sound wonderful. Everyone knows everyone, and everyone seems to have similar interests. This beneficially results in very few conflicts, but also leaves very little room for change. Without change and challenges, it is impossible to grow. I firmly believe that in order to establish strong beliefs, those beliefs have to be questioned. Because of this, it is important for beliefs and opinions to be based off of experience and careful thought rather than stereotypes and gossip. Living in such an isolated and homogenous area creates a safe and comfortable environment, but leaves limited opportunity for this exposure to new experiences. As a result, myself and many other high schoolers in Vail desire a change of scenery by the time they apply to college.

I do not say this to portray Vail as a bad or closed minded place. There is truly nowhere else that I would have rather grown up, and I am incredibly fortunate to be blessed with the life I have. The “perfect bubble effect” comes with multiple advantages, and has in many ways made me who I am. For example, growing up in a small town has allowed me to develop a strong sense of self control and identity. When something becomes a “trend” in a small town, it is not like in a city where there will always be people that go against the norm. Often times, if you don’t like the trends in a small town, you have to be comfortable being the only one doing something else. While this can be challenging, learning to stand on my own has given me a strong sense of identity and taught me self-discipline. I know what my morals and beliefs are, and while I am always open to these being challenged, I am also comfortable enough with who I am to stand on my own and advocate for myself.

In my opinion, growing up in the Vail Valley has helped me establish these traits. Had I grown up in a large city for example, there would likely have been enough people that no matter what the social norms were, there would always be a group of people going against the grain. Had I grown up in this environment, I would likely not have developed as strong of a sense of self control. Growing up in Vail has shaped me in many other ways, including giving me a great appreciation for natural beauty and snowy mountains, but the self control I have developed from growing up here is by far the most beneficial thing Vail has given me.

We are all distinctly shaped by where we grow up and who we grow up with. That is why taking advantage of every opportunity to be exposed to different cultures and experiences is so important. Just like my perspective has been shaped by my personal experiences, so have the perspectives of the children I will meet in Tanzania. We have had profoundly different experiences, so we will naturally have profoundly different perspectives. This is a crucial and beautiful thing for myself and all others to experience, as growth and improvement is only made possible through adaptation and connection. I am beyond thrilled to learn from the people I encounter on this trip, and know that this experience will stretch my perspective to new and delightful bounds.

“Learning is a journey: from facts, to knowledge, on to understanding, and eventually wisdom.” -Graham O’Connell

“Truth will always be truth, regardless of lack of understanding, disbelief, or ignorance.” -W. Clement Stone

Mount Kilimanjaro reaches to the sky before disappearing into the clouds. The Serengeti National Park stretches on for miles before fading into the horizon. Lakes dot the landscape, forming a mesmerizing maze throughout the entire country. But in the midst of all this beauty, there are millions of people experiencing great tragedy. According to some sources, almost 68% of the population of Tanzania lives below the poverty line, and the life expectancy is only 45 years old. This is a fairly simple statistic to understand, but an impossible one to process. I do not pretend to understand what it is like to live in these conditions, but trying to figure out what caused such widespread poverty is a place to start.
Before Tanzania became “The United Republic of Tanzania”, it was a combination of two nations referred to as Tanganyika and Zanzibar. The two territories did not unite until 1964, less than 60 years ago. Since then, Tanzania has experienced many conflicts. From battles with the Ugandans in 1978 to Al-Qaeda bombings and national protests in the late 1900’s and early 2000’s, Tanzania has scarcely had time to recover from one conflict before experiencing another. In addition to this, Tanzania is still a very new country and has had very little time to develop as a result. It took America 170 years to gain independence after English colonization, and many years more to develop into a true first world country. The United States has seen very little government corruption compared to many other nations, and it still took hundreds of years for the country to develop. In comparison, Tanzania has experienced multiple conflicts, government corruption, and large protests within its 55 years of existence. Given this information, it makes sense that Tanzania would be a developing country at this point in history. However, the past does not define the present, and the present does not define the future.
From 2006 to 2012, the extreme poverty rate declined by 4%. In addition to this, the tourism business has skyrocketed and many other industries such as agriculture, mining, construction, and oil/gas production have also developed, helping improve Tanzania’s economy. While Tanzania remains a low income country, it is home to many different tribes who speak hundreds of different languages, creating a very unique and diverse culture. Despite Tanzania’s extreme diversity, Tanzania is one of the few African countries where it is common for citizens to identify themselves as Tanzanians first rather than with their affiliated tribes. In addition to this, there are many cultural aspects of Tanzania that make it unique. For example, members of certain ethnic groups believe that when their picture is taken, a piece of their soul is taken with it, so it is important to respect this and ask before using a camera. Elders are also treated with great respect in Tanzania, which is very important to acknowledge and remember. Even subtle things like abnormally long handshakes, lack of public affection, and the rudeness of smelling food before eating it contribute to Tanzania’s culture and are all important things to remember.
With Tanzania’s beautiful landscape and intriguing culture, it is easy to forget about the large scale poverty when the country is only looked at on paper. However, the fact of the matter is that 67.9% of Tanzania’s population is living under the poverty line, and that is 67.9% too high. But once again, the past does not define the present, and the present does not define the future. Tanzania is a beautiful country full of wonderful people, and there is so much hope for the future. I am beyond excited to partake in this experience and can’t wait to experience Tanzania for myself. I will never fully understand what it is like to live in positions like the ones I will see, but this experience will bring me one step closer to putting myself in someone else’s shoes and living a life of gratitude.
“Truth will always be truth, regardless of lack of understanding, disbelief, or ignorance.”
-W. Clement Stone