I am ever grateful to my friend Fred Chacha for happening to journey to Dar-es-Salaam for work perfectly timed at the end of my stay and for allowing me to accompany him. Because of this, I am able to reunite with my friends from last year. Enock and Pili were our translators last year and endured walking 6-8 hours every day in the hot sun to survey hut to hut and accomplish our study. They are both intelligent and talented people currently in university. I was saddened when I found out that they attended school too far away to return to Shirati but then was uplifted when I knew they could make it to Dar-es-Salaam. Another friend, Castor, I met through Melody. Castor studied in Italy with Melody and was once pursuing theological studies to become a priest but now wants to finish his Master in Public Administration.
I reunite with Pili early in the morning and Fred drives us around Dar-es-Salaam. I really like this city. There is as much unpredictable never-ending traffic as LA but it has a friendlier and less of bustle feel than Nairobi. Dar is humid and we can see the Indian ocean as we drive around. Fred, being an incredible friend, goes directly to find that wheelchair I need for Freddy Obote, the 13 year old boy in Shirati crippled from the waist down and will be given a chance to go to school for the first time in his life. I am delighted when we find it. The wheelchair is a little above my budget, but Rashim, a USC medical student has generously offered to cover the difference and personally deliver this wheelchair to Freddy. Fred in Dar will bring this 30+ pound wheelchair with him as a checked bag and lug it all the way to Shirati so that this may be accomplished.
Pili and I wander around Dar and eat some local food before we head over to meet Castor after his class ends at 3pm. After I embrace Castor, he tells me I look African now. It’s true, my arms are quite dark after a month in Africa. The three of us take a dala dala, local mini-bus, to the pier. I sort of chuckle at the fact that I’m a cheap mzungu and end up taking local transit instead of paying for a private car and driver like most mzungus. This always gives me the best moments from banging my head really hard (many times) on a tap tap in Haiti to cramming 6 people in a 3 person autorickshaw in India and to squeezing like sardines into a dala dala filled with about 50 people but seats maybe 20. Another thing that amuses me about Dar is the fact that they have autorickshaws/tok tok things. I find this highly amusing that the same 3 wheeled barely motorized vehicle with mini windshield wipers and plastic roof are found in India, Thailand and apparently Tanzania.
Castor brings us to a restaurant overlooking the docs. We start chattering about the work I’ve been doing in Shirati. Castor is from a rural village in the south of Tanzania near Mozambique. He was able to get sponsored to attend school in Czech and then in Italy to complete his seminary studies. Castor speaks Swahili, English, Italian, Czech and his tribal language. While he was in Czech, he became involved in helping out his home village. He realized that so many talented students were unable to afford secondary school, which costs about $40 a year. He invited some of the most poor students into his home and learned about their lives and encouraged them to help with harvesting a garden to teach the kids some basic skills while working alongside them. He managed to inspire some Czechs to directly sponsor these students and ensures that their tuition is paid for. Since the economic downturn, some of the sponsors withdrew and Castor is no longer in Czech to recruit more. He had asked for the assistance of Melody and I last summer and we liked his cause but never really followed up. Now that we are doing similar things in Shirati and have a website, I am hoping we can partner with Castor to do this noble thing of helping out his home village.
As we were engrossed in conversation, a young boy with a sad face and red t-shirt approaches us and asks for money. How could I possibly be engaged in a passionate discussion about helping educate children and see this boy looking to us with desperation and hope and ignore the situation. I usually don’t give out money anymore, so I instead offered to buy the boy food and a soda which he savored and ate. Through Pili and Castor, I was able to find out that the boy’s name is David and he is in 5th grade and about 11 years old. His father died and his mother went away (possibly ran away) so he lived with his grandma across the channel. He said that he has to beg to be able to feed his grandma, himself and a younger brother. At 11 years old, David is the income provider for his impoverished family. Touched by his story, I inquired about his school, how much did he normally make while begging and what did he want to be when he grew up. David is passionate about going to school and is able to earn about 1,000 Tsh (less than $1 USD) a day begging and save just enough money to pay for uniform and shoes. He said his dream job is to be a boat captain, to which Pili and Castor gave a small chuckle and explaining that this was a very prestigious career requiring university education. I was so impressed by this young boy and his drive and determination. I offered to buy him whatever groceries he needed for his family and asked Castor if it was ok to provide his cell phone number to the boy, which Castor of course agreed. David asked Castor if it would be alright if he called Castor when he needed to buy books for school. I know that Castor will be a perfect role model for David. We brought David on a bus and to the local market to buy 3 kg of rice, 2 kg beans, cooking oil and 6th grade books. As he ran into a crowded dala dala at the end of the shopping, he had the kind of smile on your face where it shines through although you sort of try to suppress it. I no doubt see a bright future for David and tell Castor to let me know when David needs to be sponsored for secondary school, I would gladly contribute.
While sitting in the presence of David a little earlier, Castor told me in English, about a few begging children he met in Dar when he first returned from Czech. He also invited the brother and sister beggars to a nice restaurant and ordered food with them while men in business suits and other professionals looked on. He said the brother quickly ate all of his food while the sister was not touching her food. When he asked why, the brother said that she was saving her food for the grandmother. Castor, obviously touched by this selflessness, of course ordered another entrée to take home to the grandma and the little girl then ate her food. He said he wished he had their contact information and wonders what happened to them. At the end of the day, I know that meeting Castor through Melody last summer was no coincidence and that he will also be a lifelong friend.
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