"What we learn with pleasure we never forget." - Alfred Mercier

Everyone knows that as a teacher, it is your job to help others learn. When you walk into a classroom, you expect to be implementing lesson plans, assigning homework, and playing review games. You expect to struggle with your students as they push themselves to learn new things and be there to cheer for them when they succeed. What you don’t necessarily count on is them teaching you a few things, too.

From day one, I learned about the strength required to create opportunities for yourself. Our home visits were proof of how much courage it takes to immerse yourself in learning a new language from a teacher who only speaks English, all the while not knowing where your next meal is coming from or if your family will be able to make rent this month. It would be easy to get distracted by stress, but our kids brought their A-game every single day. Eager to learn, they literally jumped out of their seats whenever they had the opportunity to answer a question. There is something about watching someone throw themselves into their education that teaches you how valuable learning is. While kids in the United States count the minutes until school is over, these kids are laughing, clapping, and cheering even after the bell rings. Despite the adversity they face, education means the world to them.

From our home visits, I learned about how powerful family can be. The strongest students I have worked with are strong because of the support they have at home. Every family we visited beamed with pride when we talked about their child’s accomplishments, but I keep thinking back to our visit with Fatimazahra’s family. As Fatimazahra makes her way into the world, her family will always be supporting her, pushing her. That is something about Moroccan culture that I will never forget. The families here are tied together like knots, and they love each other so deeply. In a few months, my life is going to change completely. I will be learning to live on my own and getting ready to begin my life as an adult. If there is anything that Fatimazahra’s family has taught me, it’s that through all of this, I will need to remain close to my family, because they are the ones who will give me strength. They are the ones who will push me to be my best. They are the ones who will help me transform into the person I want to be.

From the people, I learned about believing in something greater than yourself. The love the Moroccan people have for each other translates into the culture, especially the religious aspect. Never in my life have I been in a place where everyone is so unified by a belief system – whether it means going to pray 5 times a day or fasting during Ramadan together. When I stepped off the plane and onto Moroccan soil, I had no idea what to expect from the people here. The image of Muslims that I have seen in American media was so much different than the Muslim culture I experienced here in Morocco. While all I heard in America was that Islam is founded on hatred and violence, all I have seen here is peace and love. Over and over, I heard the phrase “Islam is peace,” and these words rang true every day here. Not only do these people believe in peace and God, but they carry their religion into every aspect of their life. Islam teaches them respect, love, and kindness. Even when every day is a struggle, their faith in God gives them the strength to carry on. Sometimes, I have found, the hardest thing to do is to have faith when you are struggling. However, this faith gives you the strength to persevere.

The memories I have and the lessons I learned during my time here will be with me forever. My heart is full with love from my kids, love from their families, and love from the people of Morocco. Though it’s hard to think that I will never see those students again, I know that our group worked tirelessly every day give them the tools they need to succeed, and I can’t wait to see what they become.

Love and Family

After five trips with CGA, I have learned to appreciate the little things – a roof over my head, something to eat, friends who love me, and most importantly, a family and an education. However, it’s easy to get distracted when I come home. All of us have responsibilities and busy lives, and sometimes we take the love that we get from our families for granted. That’s why home visits like yesterdays are so powerful.

There is a girl in my class named Fatimazahra. She is very quiet and sits in the back, but she is always smiling and full of light. Shyly, she guided us to her home after school. We walked up a steep, narrow set of stairs and entered an eight foot by eight foot room with two skinny beds and a refrigerator. This room, which was the size of my bathroom, was her entire house. Fatimazahra, Rabiee (her mother), and her grandmother squeezed onto one of the tiny beds, eagerly inviting us to squeeze in with them. Rabiee presented us with food (which she most likely did not have the money for) and vigorously encouraged us to eat, wanting to make us feel as welcome as possible in her home. Immediately, I felt amazed by Fatimazahra. She comes to school every day ready to learn, and is one of the hardest workers in our class. She wants to attend college and become an astronaut, and I am looking forward to turning on the TV and seeing her fly away to Mars. I love that she is able to dream big, despite the fact that her mother and her grandmother both did not go to school and her family struggles to get by every single day. Though neither of them was educated, both are beyond supportive of Fatimazahra going to school. Over and over, they thanked us for teaching her English, saying that they regret not having gone to school every day. In these moments, as Rabiee was telling us about how she makes only $15 a month (rent alone is $30) and how grateful she is that Fatimazahra is going to school, I felt emotions that were indescribable. The most amazing part of Morocco has been the people, and Fatimazahra’s family proved that. To see three generations of women who work so diligently every day to make the best of everything they have is the definition of inspiring, and it reminds me to value education in my own life.

Our visit reminded me about how powerful love is. No matter the situation, these three ladies are always there for each other. Fatimazahra’s mother or grandmother is always waiting for her when she comes home from school, and both younger women are there to take care of the oldest. Everything that they do for each other comes from a place of love and compassion. In the words of Fatimazahra’s grandmother: “you would have to kill me before I left my daughter and granddaughter.” This kind of love reminds you of what is really important – you can be struggling to make end’s meet and wondering where your next meal will come from, but the love you feel for those who are close to you will always be strong. It is important to focus on that, especially when things get tough. It’s always difficult to deal with stress about money, school, and work, but when you love someone, you have to lift each other up as you face these adversities together.

Fatimazahra’s family spoke endlessly about how proud they are of her for going to school and being so driven to learn English. They are a little hesitant about sending her off to explore space just yet, but they are willing to support her in whatever it takes to achieve her dream. With all the love that she has at home to guide her along the way, I believe she will be a great astronaut.

The End Goal

The first thing I noticed when we arrived in Morocco was the color. The streets are decorated with every color you could imagine – from the radiant kaftans that the women wear to the bright clothes and trinkets that catch our eyes in the market. The inside of our house, like many others, is lined with carefully painted tiles that reflect all the colors of the rainbow. Even the sea of white buildings visible from the beach has its own color, contrasting so sharply from the bright blue sky that they pop in front of your eyes. The most beautiful parts of Morocco, however, are the kids we get to see every day at school. There are eight kids in the class that Katie and I teach together. They are all bright and full of joy, but each of them has their own unique personality. Ibtissam is the class clown, but she is curious and full of questions, and she brightens our day when she asks them. Mohamed is quiet, shy and is afraid to share his voice, but when we encourage him to participate he always knows the answer. Youssra is also quiet, but she loves to paint, and she dreams of being a doctor. Already, it has been a pleasure to get to know them. They are the most eager learners I have ever worked with. They are always asking questions and excitedly jump in to every game we play. Working with kids like these reminds me how much different students are in the US. At home, I have seen students use their phones as a distraction, wander the hallways so they don’t have to be in class, and pack their bags minutes before the bell rings. I’m guilty of a lot of these things. Here, however, the students stay after class to finish their assignments and ask questions. They bring English games from home to play in class. They know how important it is to learn this language, and they don’t waste a minute of their time with us. It’s a valuable lesson for those of us who take our education for granted. We are so lucky to have been born into an English-speaking country, and to have as many opportunities as we do.

Teaching, as always, has been a challenge, with unforeseen barriers. The kids knew much more English than we anticipated, which was a welcome surprise, but it means that we have to find better ways to challenge them and get them to think critically. Despite being at a level that was higher than expected, the kids have been making noticeable improvements in their grammar and comprehension skills since we have gotten here. As a teacher, when you put in the hours of work at home and hours of trial and error in the classroom, to see student’s ability shift even slightly because of what you are teaching is a breath of fresh air. It is easy to lose confidence when you are teaching. One confused look from a child, and you may think you are failing them. In fact, teaching is allowing yourself and your student to make mistakes over and over again until something clicks between the two of you. And when they finally understand, it reminds you that you can make a difference.

So far, we have built a strong foundation in the classroom. However, teaching nouns and verbs is not enough. Our goal is to leave these kids with not only a better understanding of English, but the ability to use the English that they know to make themselves more successful. We don’t expect to be able to teach them an entire language in the two weeks that we are here, but we hope that we are able to inspire them to continue down that path. When they finally learn, we hope that our students will have the confidence and ability to become anything that they want to be. There will be barriers holding them back, but learning English will no longer be one of them, and they will have proved to themselves that they can break through those barriers. It has been such an honor to teach them thus far, and I am so excited to see them grow both as people and students in the rest of the time I am here.

"How lucky I am to have something that makes me say goodbye so hard." - A.A. Milne

Well, here we are. The very last trip home of my very last adventure with CGA is finally here. It still hasn’t quite registered that next summer I will not be preparing lesson plans, studying a new language, or brainstorming fundraising ideas. At least, not with CGA. It seems like the end of an era, and though I feel a sense of accomplishment wrapping around my heart, this goodbye was the most difficult.

As with all of my CGA trips, I felt myself grow immensely during my time in Nepal. I became not only a better teacher, but someone who is more able to listen to feedback, adapt to unexpected difficulties, and think on my toes. Our last few days at the school were grueling, rewarding, and more challenging than ever before. I have said it more times than I can count and will say it over and over again: teaching is one of the hardest professions on this planet. Standing in front of a classroom made my palms feel like oceans and my heartrate increase to a million beats per minute, but the stress, preparation, and occasional moments of ridiculousness were worth even the hope that I filled a child’s brain with something useful. By our final day at Deeya Shree, I was more confident in my ability as a teacher than I have ever been before, and I got into the van stumbling with exhaustion, but feeling so incredibly successful. There is a special type of satisfaction that comes with pouring your heart and soul into something and seeing results, and I’ve felt this sensation washing over me every moment since my last day in Nepal.

Leaving our friends in Durbar Square was heartbreaking. Even after such a short time, my heart is filled with love for the incredible people who went out of their way to show us kindness. On our last night, they spent hours cooking us dinner and presented us with gifts and notes that said “WE WILL REMEMBER YOU!” Our last morning consisted of teary-eyed hugs goodbye, as well as words of gratitude from us to them for all they had taught us. Sentiments like these are what have made every one of my CGA trips truly special – not the food we ate, the temples we saw, or even the cows in the streets, but the extraordinarily warm hearts of the people we meet and their capacity to give, even during the most difficult of times.

When we sat in the guesthouse together after dinner, reflecting on how the last four years of our lives were about to come to a close, Lisa Marie and Jen asked each of us what Children’s Global Alliance has contributed to our lives. For me, CGA has had such a complex role in my life that it is impossible to explain to anyone who hasn’t been there to witness it. Without being forced to step outside of the world I had known, I would still be the quiet, insecure, ignorant girl that I was before I left for Cambodia. Because I left my comfort zone, because I was exposed to the poverty and kind souls of people around the world, because I made connections with people whose backgrounds were polar opposites of mine, I became an entirely new person. I have learned to stick up for what I believe in, to be grateful for all the luxuries I have, and never to miss an opportunity to help another person. I am certain that I would not have the confidence to do half the things that I am doing now, from applying for a job to earning a varsity position on my soccer team, without the experiences I have had with CGA. This organization holds such a special place in my heart, and if I would have told myself in 2012 that I would travel four times with Lisa Marie and Jen, that I would see things I never could have dreamed of, and that I would learn more from people I met across the world than I ever had in school, I would have stayed up all night trying to paint a picture of all this in my head and still would have fallen short. And though my heart is heavy with the thought that I will never travel with this team again, I know that the rest of my life will be richer because of the incredible journeys that I have made.

I can’t express enough gratitude to CGA for all of the ways they have added meaning to my life, but I can go forward and live gratefully, intentionally, and with drive. At the age of sixteen, I have done more valuable work than many people will in their entire lives, and I have become a better person because of it. With this in mind, I’m moving into the next years of adolescence with love in my heart and passion in my soul. So, my final words on this blog will be these: Goodbye for now, CGA, and hello to the next chapter of my life.

Sore Muscles and Full Hearts

It is conventional wisdom that difficult tasks are the most rewarding, but this message has been truly ingrained in my mind during my time in Nepal.

I can't put into words how challenging it is to stand in front of a full room, eyes watching your every move, and try to keep all of them engaged during each lesson of the day. I initially felt this pressure at LOAMO, and I feel it once again at Deeya Shree. Although many lessons have been a struggle, I am seeing more breakthroughs, more laughter, and more excitement about learning with every day that passes. What I can say from this experience is this: the feeling of contributing to the spark of understanding in a child's eyes is indescribable, and my appreciation for all the hard work that my teachers do once a day, every year, grows by the minute.

Our first few days at the school were tough. We faced behavioral issues and the feeling that we had not yet earned the respect of the students, which is enough to make any teacher's job frustrating. On those days, though sometimes I felt my anxieties about teaching taking over, each failure was a lesson about what works and what doesn't work in the classroom. Because of what I learned from failing, the number of successes gradually began to increase until I felt my fear lessen and my confidence go up dramatically. The students in every class love games, and when we play things like Pictionary or Around-the-World, I can feel their energy and see much more understanding than if I had just talked "at" them. The other day, Ava and I were teaching Class Six, an older class where the curriculum is much more difficult to teach and their English comprehension is much lower than I expected. We struggled at first trying to teach things like the responsibilities of a municipality, and saw their eyes glaze over more than once. However, by the end of the day, we realized that relating the lessons to their own lives and coming up with ways that they could get out of their seats made something click. Ava came up with a fantastic game in which they pretended to be rockets flying to the moon. While the kids learned about Apollo 11 and had plenty of laughs doing it, we learned that over-complicating a lesson works against you, but finding a way to get students moving and teaching a single concept makes a much bigger impact.

On Wednesday, we drove over an hour to visit a public school in Kathmandu. Deeya Shree is a private school, and the students' parents pay between four and eleven dollars per month for their children to attend, while also purchasing the uniforms. While an average of seven to eight dollars per month does not sound like much, 800 rupees is a lot of money here. Those who cannot afford this send their children to government-run schools, at no extra cost to them. Unlike Deeya Shree, the English comprehension here was very low, even though they are supposed to be learning the language. Therefore, Ava and I had to be especially creative in the way we were teaching, to avoid the blank stares we received whenever we spoke more than a sentence or two of English. We had them draw pictures, use styrofoam balls to represent prepositions, and act out a plane crash. The effect was unbelievable, and we knew that they were actually learning what we were teaching. When it was time for us to leave, Ava and I looked at each other, grinning from ear to ear, immensely proud of the job we had done despite great challenges.

For the past few days, the team has been helping Puni Ram, the man who drives us to and from the school every day, with demolishing his house. Puni Ram and his family have suffered incredible loss because of the earthquake here. Not only has much of their house collapsed, but most of their chickens were killed, which severely affects their livelihood. Though there is not much we can do for the chickens right now, we've lessened a huge burden for his family by helping demolish the upper two levels of his home. Our work, I believe, has helped the family accomplish a job in a matter of days that would otherwise take at least a week. Though I am proud of all the work we have done, it is incredibly sad to watch a family have to destroy their home like this. As we sorted through the debris, I found artifacts of the lives they have lived for decades in this house - broken cooking pots, math notebooks, empty jars of food. To have to suddenly uproot your life and throw all of this away is a feeling I can't understand and hopefully will never have to. Still, my sore legs and dirty hands at the end of each day remind me of how hard we have worked to ease the burden on someone we all care about.

I have completed some of the hardest work of my entire life in the past two weeks. And though every night my head slams into my pillow and my eyelids are heavy with exhaustion, I know that I have made an impact, and I can't wait to wake up the next morning and do it all over again.

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on." - Robert Frost

Among everything else I have learned during my four years with CGA, I have been taught not to go into a country with too many expectations; it’s better to let the culture, scenery, and experience wash over you upon arrival. However, with all of the sensationalized media and fear surrounding Nepal, it was difficult to completely block out images of devastation – rubble everywhere, hungry children, even bodies in streets. I prepared myself for a country in mourning of all they had lost.

But what makes Nepal great is its depth. People here have lost their homes, their livelihoods, and their families, yet beauty is still everywhere. We are greeted with Namastes and smiles, and when we explain that we are here for service, we receive expressions of gratitude in return. Yes, buildings have fallen, people have died, and homes have been destroyed, but there is still love, there is still laughter, there is still hope.

That said, I was unsure of how many children would be at Deeya Shree, the school we are teaching in, since it re-opened only five days ago and many people are afraid to sleep inside, let alone send their kids into buildings for hours at a time, six days a week. But out of 150 kids, only 25 were absent. Though this is still quite a few, it’s less than I initially would’ve guessed. The kids are all excited and ready to learn, which I witnessed during the entire class period that I taught about US history, answering questions about everything from the Civil War to the space race to Barack Obama. But in a school where the kids are so thirsty for knowledge, it is frustrating to be met with consistent monotony in the way the kids are being taught. We have only been there for one day, but all I have seen so far is students copying from whiteboards and teachers briefly explaining topics without checking for understanding from each student. I have seen a few students looking lost, simply writing what is on the board and drawing a blank when asked to do their homework on their own. While this is a challenge, it is also means that there is a lot of work we can do and a lot of growth we can inspire, and that excites me.

Today, the one day the children have off from school, we performed more manual labor than I have in a long time. Scattered around Durbar Square and the surrounding streets are buildings, hundreds of years old, which are crumbling. Once towering structures are now falling apart, with cracks down their middle and walls that have completely separated from the beams that are meant to hold them together. These are peoples’ homes, and they will have to be destroyed and then rebuilt from the ground up after monsoon season. For hours, we helped one family take down a story of their house.

“This is our kitchen,” one man said to me as he shoveled crumbling stone off of the exposed room and onto the ground below, where it will be picked up by trucks and transported away.

The fear that comes with experiencing two earthquakes is traumatizing enough, but these people also have to pull apart their homes, brick by brick. Generations of families have lived in these buildings, leading up to the lives that this generation has lived, the years that they have spent growing up in these houses, and now they have to dismantle them. I can’t imagine what that’s like, to be so shaken by a natural disaster and have to take down the place where you grew up while still trying to recover from it. There are so many families like the one that we helped today, and with no outside assistance, who knows how long it could take to bring down every building that is unsalvageable?

Before we left, I was afraid that our efforts would be lost among thousands of volunteers flooding in with good intentions but no plan. But during my time here, I have not seen a single other foreign volunteer in Bhaktapur who is helping with relief. We lessened the workload of one family today, but there are many others just like them who need support. So many people are donating and sending supplies, but they all are left on the tarmac of the airport because they are being heavily taxed. Peoples’ hearts are in the right places, but I would like to see organized relief crews, both employing those whose places of business have been ruined as well as encouraging volunteers to fly in and lend a hand.

There has been devastation, but Nepal has not been destroyed. There is a lot to recover from, but pride in their country resonates within every Nepali citizen, and I know they can restore this beautiful nation. They will need more manpower, but they have hope and strength like I have never seen before. Every day I am more convinced that we are doing something great here, and I can’t wait for tomorrow.

Poverty and Generosity

            Every day, I spend money carelessly: a dollar for a pack of Reese’s, ten for trinkets at the Bookworm, twenty for a new shirt. I am extremely fortunate not to have to worry about how much I need to save to feed my family or where the next dollar will come from, if at all. As much as my experiences volunteering in developing countries and experiencing poverty first-hand have enlightened me and made me grateful for everything I have, it’s still difficult to remember every day that each dollar in my wallet is a luxury, especially in a place like Vail. But when I watched a documentary called “Living on One Dollar”, I was once again exposed to the extreme poverty that some people live in, and I was also reminded of my own privilege. The film follows four young men, Zach, Ryan, Chris, and Sean, to Peña Blanca, a rural village in Guatemala, where seven out of ten people live under the poverty line. The men chronicle their experience as they face hunger, illness, demanding physical labor, and the reality that sometimes there are no easy choices.

            The four men quickly befriend their neighbors, two of whom are a boy named Chino and a man named Anthony. Chino is only twelve years old and has dropped out of school to work and support his family. Anthony has a cleaning job, so he can rely on a fixed income, but he still struggles tremendously to support a household of eight. But even with this enormous economic strain, Anthony’s generosity is made incredibly clear throughout the film. Upon the arrival of the four foreigners, Anthony immediately invites them into his home and cooks them Pulique, a traditional Guatemalan dish that is only served on special occasions. I remember this kind of caring and unselfishness from my trips. It always has a profound impact on me to see someone in extreme poverty scrape together whatever they can to show compassion to someone else. Furthermore, Anthony helped Chino’s family immensely, most likely saving Chino’s mother’s life. Before the filming of this documentary, Chino’s mother fell suddenly ill, but his family had no money to pay for medicine. So Anthony lent them the money. Although medicine in Guatemala costs a fraction of what it does in the United States, it is an astronomical cost to families living below the poverty line there. Although Anthony has a more stable income than Chino’s father, this loan still put a great amount of pressure on him. I thought it was incredibly heartwarming to see that someone with so little could sacrifice so much to help another person.

            I doubt that I could survive in the conditions that these people struggle through every day. Every moment is a game of chance – will I find a job today? Will there be enough food for my children? Will I get injured working, and not be able to earn a living? The mere weight of every uncertainty, every added stress, would crush me, and yet these people live through them each day. For me, what would be hardest about living in poverty is the near certainty that I would be trapped in it forever. When Chris asked Chino what he wanted to be when he grew up, he immediately said “I’m going to be a farmer,” not because he wanted to (he actually wants to be a professional soccer player), but because he knew that the opportunities to be something more weren’t available to him. Rosa, a woman living in the village, is a living representation of this tragic dilemma. She had to drop out of school in 6^th grade because her parents couldn’t afford to send her any more, and although her dream is to become a nurse, she could never afford her studies. What would I do if I had a dream like that – something so achievable in the US, but seemingly impossible in a place like Peña Blanca? I have always known that I’d be able to get an education somewhere, and the answer to that question is unimaginable.

            The culture of the Guatemalans in the documentary reminded me of what I have seen in Nicaragua, Cambodia, and Tanzania. They value family more than anything because, sometimes, family is all you have. While I love my parents and my sister, I have never been as family-oriented as some of the people I have met. But I also saw a value of community, and of friendship, which is something I hold close to my heart. When Anthony was so welcoming to Chris, Ryan, Sean, and Zach, I felt like we were similar, and the only difference between us was that I have been blessed to live in a place like Vail and he has not.

            Though I have visited some of the poorest places in Tanzania, Cambodia, and Nicaragua, I have never seen poverty at the level that this documentary showed. When I go to Nepal, the reality that every family is struggling to get by, day by day, will always be in the back of my mind, and will fuel my drive to make as big of an impact as I possibly can.

"In My Heart is the Memory, and There You Will Always Be"

This is my third time saying goodbye to kids who have found their way into the deepest part of my heart, and I still do not know how to make the farewells any easier. Our last day was filled with goodbyes – little arms wrapping around me, hands stuffing notes into my fingers, voices saying, “I’ll miss you!” We had to leave after lunchtime, and when they rang the school bell, the students ran back inside as we made our way back to our cars. There was a finality to it, which made it easier and more difficult at the same time. We left without the pain of feeling little fingers slip through ours, but we had to say goodbye earlier, and we pulled away from the school alone. The kids at LOAMO, especially the younger ones whom I taught, made such an impact on my life, and it is heartbreaking that I will probably never see them again. Our goodbyes were so chaotic that although I said “I’ll miss you,” and “I love you,” more times than I could count, I was too overwhelmed to process the fact that we were leaving until after we left. The kids know that I love them and will always remember them, and I know that they feel the same about me, but I wish that we had gotten to say a proper goodbye. All the same, I am so grateful for every hug, every kiss, and every note that we exchanged. The kids taught me so much about happiness and selflessness, and I am honored to have been their teacher, even if it was for a short time.

However, we did get another chance to say goodbye to the Class VI and Class VII students, as well as the LOAMO staff, at the dance Friday night. We spent hours preparing, but it was so worth it to see their smiling faces when they ran inside. The kids and teachers danced their hearts out, and it was truly amazing to see how happy and excited they all were. Everyone was dressed to the nines, and the effort they put in to look nice reminded me of how much our work meant to them. At the end of the dance, Loserian and Nicodemus thanked us for our work at the school, and presented all the students with gifts. Mr. Kimaro even pulled me aside to thank me for all we had done for him. These moments, making me realize just how grateful they were for our hard work, almost brought me to tears. I am so thankful that I have had the opportunity to know these people, because they have most certainly had a bigger impact on my life than I have had on theirs. This trip has reminded me that I am so, so blessed to have a family, a house, and food to eat. I will always be grateful to each and every one of the students and teachers here, and I have no words to express how glad I honored I feel to have known them. 

Love and Loss

Yesterday and today were our last two days teaching at LOAMO. I have to say, being here, teaching thirty-some restless kids, has really given me a new perspective on teaching. I never realized how difficult it is to plan a new lesson every day, stand up in front of a class to teach, and make material exciting and interesting. This experience has made me appreciate my teachers so much more, as well as allowed me to admire the staff at LOAMO and how hard they work.

Once again, I am so blown away by the kind hearts and positive energy of the people here. A perfect example of this is the Class I teacher, Madame Lillian. From the moment I walked into her classroom, she made an effort to make me feel welcome. When she gets up to teach, the students are so excited, and she has a talent for engaging the students and helping them learn. The other day she said to me: “Nicole, have you ever considered being a teacher? You have so many great ideas, and you are really talented in the classroom.” When she said this, especially since I was already nervous about teaching and how well I was doing in the classrooms, I felt a huge wave of relief wash over me. Her words not only reminded me that our work here really is making an impact, but they also helped me be more confident in myself and my abilities. This is something I have seen consistently while here in Tanzania – the compassion that people demonstrate and the way that they strive to make you feel good is really heart-warming. It is a quality I wish I saw in people back home.

Today, Tate, Evan, Krissy, and I visited the home of Miguel and Meejooly, two brothers who attend LOAMO. Their mother, Rachel, invited us in, and we sat down in a living room that was the size of our bathroom here in the guesthouse. Immediately, I could feel how cozy the home was. Miguel hopped up onto his mother’s lap, and she tenderly combed his hair as she spoke with us. Miguel was shy, but Meejooly was excited to tell me about his interests, talking about how he loves science and math and wants to be a pilot when he grows up. Rachel, very openly, explained to us that her husband had passed away a year ago, and that it was now very difficult for her to support herself and her children. She works as a restaurant supervisor in a hotel in Arusha, and spends most of her salary paying rent. The rest she uses for school fees for her children, paying their housekeeper, and other things that they need to survive. She works extremely hard to make sure that her kids have the opportunities that they deserve, and that kind of drive and devotion to family was inspiring to see.

Going on home visits like this is always humbling. Like Lisa Marie said to us last night, it really reminds you of how much you actually need. Although Rachel lost her husband not so long ago, she somehow motivates herself to push through the pain that I’m sure she feels every day, and works hard for her family. I witness the same thing in Krissy, who, even though she rides an emotional roller coaster on a daily basis, she still has an incredible passion for sharing her love and beautiful self. What selfless, caring women! It was truly inspiring to meet Rachel and to see the kind of compassion, drive, and kindness she has, even after going through something so heart-wrenching. Her story helped me remember that family is more important than anything, and if she can find a way to keep her family alive after the loss of her husband, then I can find a way to push through the struggles in my life, too.

Life is a Blessing

Every day in Tanzania is mind-blowing, but this weekend I felt an overwhelming mix of emotions. The work that we did on Saturday and Sunday was more than worthwhile, but one left me feeling proud, and one left me with a pang in my heart.

On Saturday, we were lucky enough to be able to sleep in for an hour, and we left for the school at 8:00 am, knowing that although there were no kids at the school, we had a lot of work to do. The teachers, along with our three chaperones, all met in the office for a team-building seminar while we brought out cleaning supplies, divided them up, and began cleaning the classrooms. There was a lot of work to be done. Though my room may have been cleaner than many of the others, cleaning it was still a grueling task. I spent endless hours cleaning the walls alone, scrubbing off dirt and pencil marks until my arms were sore. At times, I was even frustrated with the way the dirt refused to come off the wall. It made me angry that these kids didn’t have a cleaner school. The cleaning ladies work very hard, and LOAMO is much nicer than many other schools in Tanzania, but the kids deserve a facility (and materials) as nice as those in the Vail Valley. Everyone at LOAMO works so incredibly hard, and it is difficult to watch children be set back by lack of materials or a nice space to learn in. Because of this, I loved being able to improve the conditions of the school and lighten the load put on the cleaning ladies. It was extremely satisfying to, at the end of the day, look at the result of my sweaty forehead and tired arms and know that I had done a good thing. There were two occasions where I felt an intense sense of pride:

1) At around 1 o’clock, when we were still hard at work, several of the ladies from the kitchen came into each of our rooms to offer us tea. Politely, we refused, saying that we had to get back to work. However, it seemed that their offer had not been a request, but a demand, and they literally dragged us into the kitchen, pushed us into a sitting position on plastic chairs, and gave us tea and bread. Though I was laughing at the time, their generosity and insistence that we rest for even just five minutes warmed my heart and showed me how much our work meant to them.

2) At the end of the day, when we were all sitting together, completely wiped out, Loserian (the husband of Maria, LOAMO’s founder) addressed us all and thanked us for our hard work. “When I heard that you wanted to clean the school, I thought, Can they really do it?” he said. “But you have done it beautifully.” I was so glad to hear him say that, not only because I knew that we had done well, but also because it meant that he, as one of the directors of LOAMO, appreciated the work that we had done and welcomed us in his school. I was incredibly proud of our group, and myself, and I am beyond happy that we have been successful on this trip so far.

Sunday was a new experience altogether. At around 1 o’clock, we went to the Save Africa orphanage about thirty minutes from our guesthouse. The orphanage, just like everything I have seen here, was nothing like I expected. It was very small, with only about thirty kids, one main building about 3/4ths the size of our house, a small chicken coop, and a large field outside holding a few cows. The children were skinny, dirty, and ate food out of buckets with their hands. Lunch was made by cooking rice and eating every part of the bird, including the feet and intestines. The kids would constantly be asking for something, anything that they could have – bracelets, sunglasses, just something. We gave them all the love we could, but it was not enough to fill their bellies and bandage their scraped knees. It was difficult to see that they really did have nothing, even though we earned their love very quickly, and spent most of the day cuddling and playing. I let the orphanage feeling grateful for my food, my shelter, and my family, but also feeling angry that some people have to live like this. Everyone deserves a warm place to sleep at night and enough food to satisfy them, yet it seems so hard to give this to everyone. I felt almost helpless, not knowing what I could do to give people in that situation what they deserve, but my passion for volunteering only increased.

Today we started our second, and also our last, week at the school. And though I did switch from Class V to Class I, I saw the same drive I have always seen in these students – a drive to work hard, to learn, and to love. I am sad that we are leaving so soon, but I am proud of all that we have accomplished here. As I was reading stories to the kids and laughing as we acted out jumping jacks, I felt an enormous amount of love in my heart. The connection I have made with all of them in just one short week is why I love working with CGA – the lifelong bond you make with each one of them is something that changes you forever. I am so glad that I have found that with these kids, and I hope to continue changing their lives in the week to come.

On Selflessness

It has been one week since I arrived in Tanzania, and words cannot express how much I have learned from the students and teachers already. The energy and excitement here is truly incredible. Every day that I go to the school, I feel invigorated, and I am filled with a drive to work harder, appreciate more, and be as selfless as possible.

Yesterday AJ, Keelin, Evan, Nikko, and Lisa Marie went to visit the home of Benard, a twelve-year-old who is in Class Four at LOAMO. When we discussed their visit later that night, I was inspired beyond words.

Benard grew up in or around Arusha. He lived with his parents when he was very little, until his father passed away. His mother, for a reason unknown to the home visit group, was not able to care for him, and he was passed into the care of his aunt. While living with her, he attended a basic primary school in the village, but he spent most of his time doing manual labor at a local university, bringing home money to provide for himself and his aunt. Richard, a teacher at the university, saw him working and took an interest in him. Benard made him question why the students at the university were able to be educated, but Benard was not. Selflessly, he took Benard in, got him a scholarship to an excellent private school, and now Benard attends LOAMO.

What is amazing about Benard’s story is that he was separated from his parents, given a minimal education, and required to work to support himself at a young age, and now, due to one family’s selflessness, he was given a chance. Since Richard took him in, he has learned to speak partially fluent English and has not only academically caught up to the others in his class, but he is the best out of all of them at math.

The group’s amazement at his hard work has excited and inspired me. His dedication to learning and to working hard to help himself and others is an extremely welcome change from what I am used to seeing in the United States. There are so many twelve-year-olds that I know who have never given a thought to anyone but themselves, yet here Benard is, waking up early in the morning to milk the five cows that they have, and staying up late at night to finish his homework. It warms my heart, but at the same time it frustrates me that children his age in America are so selfish.

Every day, I have been growing closer and closer to the children at LOAMO. I didn't realize how big of an impact our short time there was until the end of today, when I was walking Janeth, a sweetheart in Class One, to her bus. I leaned down to kiss her cheek good-bye, and after she reciprocated, she said to me, “I love you so much, Teacher!” and ran off. Six words had my feet glued to the dirt in amazement. I felt warmth spread throughout my whole body, and for the rest of the day I had an enormous grin on my face. What we’re doing here is so important, whether it is teaching, helping the teachers in the classroom, or just giving love to the students. Janeth today reminded me of how much we mean to the people at LOAMO, and I am so excited to give my all at the school next week.

Breaking Bad Habits

These past two days at the school have been indescribable. Each day there is like a mental reset; everything negative, everything toxic that I have let into my mind is cleared away by the bright smiles on these kids’ faces and their contagious energy. The comfort of their little hands effortlessly slipping into yours when they greet you is like coming home.

Each person here is so incredible. The teachers on their own are remarkable to talk to – they all have their own stories and unique personalities, but they share the same vigorous passion for teaching. The work ethic that the teachers and students have here is something that I wish I saw in those in American schools. We are so fortunate to have an excess of resources to teach ourselves with, but they are abused by so many students. Here, the students are more advanced than many of those in America, and they only have textbooks and a chalkboard to learn from. To think of what they could do with more than that is exciting and heartbreaking at the same time.

After school Kevin, Tate, and I went on a home visit to the house of MR. Kimaro, the computer teacher at LOAMO. I don’ know what I was expecting his house to look like, but it was not what we ended up walking into. It had two rooms, and both were smaller than the size of my kitchen. What little space there was was filled with two small beds (one in each room), a stove, a small couch, and various pots of water and bags of clothes. Despite being small and crowded, the living room that we were invited into was remarkably neat and tidy – it was obvious that the family took pride in what they had. It’s amazing how people here treasure their possessions even though they have so few, while many of those at home have no sense of appreciation for belongings that are considered luxuries here.

Mr. Kimaro invited us into his house and we had a conversation with him about his life. As we sat with him, his wife, and his three kids, we learned that he was a very driven, passionate, and dedicated man, with a passion for teaching and a desire to do everything he can for his family. He is taking night classes at the University of Dar es Salaam (in addition to teaching for eight hours each day) in pursuit of a teaching job at a secondary school. His drive to better his life is inspiring, but he lacks the resources to go to school and live the life he deserves. Sometimes, he told us, he has to suffer so that his family can eat at least two meals per day.

It is so easy to slip into a routine of abusing the luxuries we are so blessed with, and that is exactly what I realized I had done in the past year. When I stepped into Mr. Kimaro’s house, and I felt the welcoming atmosphere even though the place was so small, a sense of gratefulness hit me like a freight train. Mr. Kimaro is so deserving of the job and life that he wants, yet he has so little resources to get there. Meanwhile, I have seen myself and my friends disregard the privileges we have by complaining about the fact that we don’t have more. As I left his house, almost to the point of tears, it became clear to me that simply saying I was blessed is not enough. By giving back, working as hard as humanly possible, and appreciating everything I am so fortunate to have, maybe I will have earned the luxuries that Mr. Kimaro deserves.

Everything You Want is On the Other Side of Fear

Four words that cross my mind every second I am here:

This place is amazing.

When we began our journey, the word “Africa,” to me, was synonymous with a flat, dry, savannah, lots of boboa trees, very Lion King-esque. And though we did see a sunrise that came straight out of the movie as we flew into Ethiopia (a plethora of firey reds and oranges, fading into light blue and then darker, darker, and darker until the sky wove into outer space) the vast plains and desert that I pictured were not present in Arusha, Tanzania. Upon arrival, we were met with forests of green trees and vibrant red, pink, and purple flowers, and had to wrap ourselves tightly in our jackets to combat the chilly winter weather. On Saturday, we took a tour of the city, led by a very personable man named Rasta John. He took us on a walk through Arusha, showing us the markets and museums here and giving us a glimpse into what makes Tanzania unique.

Our very first volunteer experience was on Sunday, at an orphanage called Cradle of Love. Cradle of Love is composed 100% of babies and toddlers, and when we arrived at the orphanage I could feel my heart being stolen by these children. Since we were the only volunteers there at the time, there were more babies to a person than we could count. At one point, I was pushing four different babies on three different swings. We fed the babies, played with the babies, and held the babies, but most importantly we gave massive amounts of love to each and every one of them. I am so incredibly glad that our first act of volunteering was at COL, because it opened my heart up and prepared me to extend my love unto the children at the school.

Today was our first day at LOAMO English Medium School. LOAMO, consisting of 270 students and 17 teachers, is a primary school with classes ranging from Baby Class, Kinder, and Pre-Unit all the way to Class 7. Extremely early on in their education, they become completely fluent in English, and are able to learn without speaking a word of Swahili. This vigor exists in every aspect of their education, from comprehensive English classes to extremely advanced science and math classes. The school in general is much more advanced than I expected. Despite being eleven years old, the kids in Class 5 began their science lesson by reviewing how digestive enzymes in the mouth break down starch into glucose. Upon hearing this, I was completely taken aback- I hadn’t learned this information until my sophomore year of high school! I had been expecting to teach mostly English to semi-fluent students, and here I was, completely out of my element and not prepared for the level of learning and the work ethic of both the kids and the teachers. To be honest, it was terrifying.

As the day went on my nerves calmed, and I got more and more comfortable interacting with students and being a helpful presence in the classroom. Throughout the day I was grading papers, explaining mathematical equations, and I even got to teach a history lesson on the slave trade. At this point in the day I was shaking with nerves, enough to make myself dizzy, but I could feel myself getting more and more comfortable as the lesson went on. I think that this will be a common theme throughout this trip: my confidence being tested, my fear being a wall that I have to get over in order to help the kids at this school. Overcoming barriers like these is one of the things that makes every experience with this organization incredible- I can feel my growth as a person with every day that passes. Lisa Marie once recited a quote at one of our meetings that has stuck with me since: “Everything you want is on the other side of fear.” Today on this service trip, getting up in front of a classroom and ignoring my sweaty palms as I talked about sugar cane plantations and saw attentive eyes and an encouraging teacher, I heard that quote ring true.

Something that consistently amazes me on my service trips is the energy and vibrance that these kids have. During break times I played never-ending games of tag with kids who literally fell over from laughter. Even though sprinting after 5-year-olds is completely exhausting, the energy drain is worth it to see their toothy smiles. The little kids would wrap their arms around your legs in a warm embrace, and the older kids would surround you and ask you about your life. Morning assembly is the best example of this energy. The kids are jumping and stomping and yelling to the beat of several drums, and their excitement makes you excited to immerse yourself in their school and do everything you can to help.

What I want to focus on for the remainder of this trip is being a bigger force in the classroom. Although I did get the hang of assisting in the class, and I dipped my toes in the water of teaching, I want to be able to share my knowledge and really make an impact in the school. The kids here are incredible, unique, and impossible to describe, and I have fallen in love with them already. If I didn’t want to help them to the best of my ability before, I do now. They deserve my complete attention and effort, which means more work when we come home planning lessons and researching what they are studying, and I am prepared to do all of it.

The Holocaust and the Slave Trade

Throughout history, discrimination and prejudice have led to some of the most gruesome and horrific events in history. Two of these include the Holocaust and the African Slave Trade.

The Holocaust is one of the most well-known and devastating events in history. Six million people were killed because of a single vision of racial superiority. This process, which the Nazis called the “Final Solution” is what disgusts and terrifies me the most. I don’t know how anyone could make themselves kill so many people. However, what is also terrifying is what was happening to Jews before the Final Solution. There was so much Nazi propaganda towards Jews that perpetuated this idea that someone is lower than you just because of their ethnic background. Jews were blamed for the German loss of WWI, required to wear stars on their chest, and had their property vandalized by non-Jewish Germans. Then, they were forced out of their homes and into concentration camps where they were deliberately starved, overworked, experimented on, and/or executed. These concentration camps existed for over ten years. I cannot imagine the pain and suffering that these people went through while in these camps, not to mention the fear that they would never see their loved ones again. Though the survivors of these camps were liberated from 1944-1945, many could not return home because they had lost their families, were denounced by their non-Jewish neighbors, or suffered from trauma because of the horrible treatment they suffered.

The African Slave Trade is more well-known, but less talked about. The trade that we usually learn about in school began in the 1500s, but the Slave Trade really has roots as early as 650 CE. During this time, 4-6 million slaves were caravanned out of Africa by Arab, Berber, and other African traders. In fact, native Africans were the ones who would capture slaves in the first place. Slaves were usually captured as prisoners of war, and then traded to other tribes or people. After 1500, though, the slavery business became lucrative. European settlers collected slaves from Africa – as well as other continents – because they needed a labor force in their colonies. As settlers came to realize that African slaves were more suitable to the conditions in the new world and more immune to diseases than others, Africa became the primary supplier of slaves. Between 9 and 11 million people were shipped out of Africa by Europeans. This journey, known as the Middle Passage, was harsh and cruel. People were crammed into boats so tightly that they had to lie in each others’ feces and urine, were abused, poorly fed, and caught diseases quickly. Many people died during this journey, and the ones who didn't went to the Americas to be treated as a piece of property.

It was hard to see the similarities between these two events at first. But, as I did my research, I realized that they were more similar than I thought. In both cases, the victims were turned on by their own people. In Nazi Germany, Jewish Germans were harassed, shunned, and killed by non-Jewish Germans, and Africans were captured and sold by other Africans. Also, the victims of the Holocaust and the Slave Trade were treated horribly- not only being abused but tortured, malnourished, and neglected. They were also both cases of extreme racism and discrimination. Because of the belief that one race was superior over the other, people were able to “justify” inhumane treatments toward other people, and millions of people died because of this.

The sad thing is that these are not the only examples of this type of mass abuse and killing in history. What’s even sadder is that racial discrimination and hatred still goes on today. It horrifies me to think that real people could have committed these acts, and even more that they could have convinced themselves it was an okay thing to do. I can never understand what it would have been like for these people to suffer and not be able to do anything about it. Luckily, people today are more aware of what’s going on in the world, and genocides and slavery are less likely to happen. That is not to say that they are non-existent today. Slavery exists all over the place, and genocides have been happening for thousands of years. But, education and understanding of other people has helped people become active in stopping atrocities like this. The one thing that gives me hope is that there are people out there fighting inhumane acts like this and trying to free the victims, and I hope that I can eventually become one of them to make the world a safer place.

Tanzania is a diverse and rich place, and one of the things that contributes to this characterization is the Maasai tribe who live in northern Tanzania and southern Kenya. The Maasai are semi-nomadic pastoralists whose livelihood depends mostly on cattle. They believe that their god Enkai granted them cattle, and therefore cattle are highly valuable and revered. In addition to using just about every part of the cattle (the blood and milk are drunk, the hide is used for shoes and household items, the dung is used to make homes, etc.) they also use them as a form of currency and a sign of wealth. The more cattle a man has, the wealthier he is. Because of this, cattle are not usually eaten or killed unless it is for ceremonial purposes. This was one of the most surprising things in my research. Because I am used to such a different lifestyle, it is hard for me to imagine using animals as currency, let alone holding them on such a pedestal. This is such a unique and interesting part of Maasai culture, and it really made me think about how different two parts of the world can be.

Gender roles are also incredibly different between our culture and the Maasai. The men are the leaders; they make all the decisions, speak for the women, and own all the property. However, it is the women who do all the manual labor. The women take care of the house, the livestock, and the family. Despite this, there is little respect for women in Maasai society. Maasai women do not have a voice. They are married off at a young age in exchange for cattle, are not allowed to be in the room when their father is eating, and must rise early and work all day without complaint. Alternatively, men of the tribe may have many wives, and are trained from a young age to be brave warriors. The women of the Maasai tribe are strong, but they are treated as property. This was difficult for me to read about. As a woman, it is incredibly frustrating that in 2014 other women across the world are still seen as inferior when compared to men. I think that one of the things more people need to push for is greater education of the Maasai people, especially women. The Tanzanian and Kenyan governments recognize that lack of girls' education is something that contributes to mass poverty, but the problem still persists. I wonder how the women of the Maasai tribe feel. Are they happy? Do they wish circumstances were different and that they could be educated in a place like the United States or the UK? I hope that one day myself and others can be influential forces in eliminating gender discrimination in the Maasai tribe, but also helping them keep their traditional values and culture.

The Maasai also suffer enormous pressures that threaten their way of life. A major threat is the fact that their grazing lands are being taken for commercial use or for wildlife preservation. As a result, they are losing their ability to roam and have begun to cultivate the land- a practice that they traditionally believe is a crime against nature. Some people even have been forced to find work in town, although their lack of education and different lifestyle makes it difficult for them to succeed in the urban world, so many go hungry. Also, less grazing land means less livestock, which leads to greater poverty and malnutrition. This conglomeration of challenges makes an uncertain future for the Maasai.

It is amazing to see how different the Maasai culture is from our own. I wonder what my life would be like if I had grown up as a girl in the Maasai tribe. I take a lot of things for granted now, but to have so little rights just because of my gender is something hard to imagine. I also can't imagine the pressure that people in the tribe feel with the increased Westernization and other cultures impeding on their values. I'm conflicted when I think about how others can attempt to help the Maasai, because I think it is important to decrease poverty and increase education and women's rights, but I also think it's crucial to preserve their culture and traditional values, and there is a fine line between helping them and hurting them in this way. However, the Maasai are still a really fascinating people. I'm so excited for the opportunity to interact with them in Tanzania. I think that seeing how they live will open my eyes to other cultures in a way they never have been before. I hope that the experience will give me a better understanding of how other people live, and maybe even some of the simpler pleasures in life that don't come from my phone or computer, but from sharing such a unique culture with an incredibly close group of people.