Its hard to describe how I feel about Father. To most people, he's just another adorable, poor, dirty African kid. He's a good donation-get-er. He's affable, brilliant, funny, loving, creative, adorable, and (best of all) speaks great English. Father is just what people want to see when they think about helping “Africa”. And he's exactly the kid they would want to meet if they got to go to Africa. They would be able to hold a conversation with him, he would hold their hand, and do everything else cute you'd want a kid from a developing nation to do.
I've lived with Father. I have held him on my lap in the crowded, swaying, smelly daladalas. I have bought him shoes a week after I bought him shoes because who knows where they went. I've given him Band-Aids for the outrageous number of falls he's taken. I've helped him with his math homework, told him stories, and taken him with me as a guide on shopping trips. Through all of this, he was cheerful, wide-eyed, alert, affectionate, polite, and grateful.
But I've also taken Father to the doctor. Many times. I held him on my lap, covered his eyes, and kissed his cheek as he fought back tears while being tested for malaria for the third time in two weeks. I did this knowing that after I paid for the malaria medication, and returned him to his mother, that she would find some way to “lose” his medication, and he would still be sick a week later. I've cleaned up his vomit, rubbed his back while he dry heaved again, because there was nothing in his stomach to begin with. I have taken both Father and his mother to eat because when I have given her money for food in the past, Father still somehow ends up not eating for three days. He had fevers, malaria, and numerous unknown stomach troubles.
When his mother got sick, I bought her medication, and cleaned up her house, which was knee-high in dirty dishes. Innumerable amounts of insects crawled through the filth; the floor was littered with crumbs and rubbish. Father and his mother slept beneath a mosquito net in need of no little amount of patching. When “thieves” broke into the house and stole only Father's medication and some money, I replaced the medication and bought food, leery of trusting the boy's mother with more money.
It has all been worth it. I felt a connection with Father like none other I have ever felt with another human being. I think that may be what it feels like to love your own child. Father is not my child, but I love him and agonize over him like I have known him his entire life. I can't mother him from here, but I can collect resources to ensure that he is well taken care of. I agonize over him every day, but at this point, this is the best thing I can offer him. I ask any and all supporters of the Tanzanian Education Project to lend their aid to Father in this pressing time of need. We are trying to collect funds to send him to a high-quality boarding school, get him the best medical attention available, and continue to provide for his care in a safe household.
-Eileen
Sunday, September 18
Monday, September 12
The Tough Business of Saving Lives
It’s been 2 years, 5 months and 24 days since I started The Tanzanian Education Project.
It’s hard to believe I ever lived without it.
When I returned from Tanzania in 2009, I whole heartedly believed if I fought hard enough, shared my stories with enough passion and stuck to the mission of self sustainability I could help the people of Tanzania and could change that corner of the world.
I haven’t lost that mentality and I can only hope our efforts have changed some non believers into supporters.
Many of you have been there from the very beginning; before the brochures, website or the business cards. Trusting nothing but my words, you all took a leap a faith to support a non established, unorganized and overtly amateur endeavor. We have come so far together; organized a handful of fundraising events, raised over 35 thousand dollars and supported over a dozen self sustaining education projects. Our presence continues to grow both in Tanzania and here in the States and I couldn’t be more proud of the work we have done and more importantly the work we will continue to do. My gratitude and appreciation for every volunteer minute, words of advice and donation is unyielding.
Since we started this undertaking, our mission has always been on self sustainable projects. I spent years studying foreign policy and the work of non governmental agencies and found the ONLY successful efforts are ones that taught the people how to help themselves with long term education. This method of aid is challenging as it requires extra skills, time and money. It also complicates our relationships in Tanzania as it is extremely difficult to look at a child who needs help now and explain that our projects are securing their futures. Despite the challenges, we have stuck to this and I have no qualms about saying we are succeeding.
As many of you know our success hasn’t come easy. Beyond the physical hours paid to the organization, emotionally this business is tough, rewarding but tough. There have been countless times when we have had to make heartbreaking decisions which constantly weigh heavily on our consciousness. Personally, running TEP is like riding a rollercoaster. There is loads of rejection, feelings of ineptitude, followed by appreciation and utter joy for what I do.
After watching my Tanzanian Grandmother ‘Bibi’ fall ill and die in August of 2010, my world turned upside down. She was the inspiration for TEP and moving forward without her seemed unbearable. I know from the bottom of my soul that TEP is bigger than us and I needed to continue to give everything I could to this mission.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one that lost Bibi. My dearest friend and Tanzanian relative Lucian better known as Father also lost his Grandmother. (For his full story please read post: Thursday, December 23 and Sunday, September 18) Although many people relied on Bibi for support, Father’s life depended on his Grandmother’s love and watchful eyes. Over the past year, Father’s life has gotten extremely difficult and the board members of TEP were faced with yet another tough decision. We knew that if we didn’t step in, we would lose him. Whether you are a first time reader or an avid supporter, I ask you to trust our decision to support Father the best we can. If this wasn’t life or death for this little boy, this may be a different story but I refuse to allow him die to on our watch. We will continue to give everything we can to this organization and I hope you can join (or continue to join) our effort to save lives.
As always- Thank you,
Cassie
It’s hard to believe I ever lived without it.
When I returned from Tanzania in 2009, I whole heartedly believed if I fought hard enough, shared my stories with enough passion and stuck to the mission of self sustainability I could help the people of Tanzania and could change that corner of the world.
I haven’t lost that mentality and I can only hope our efforts have changed some non believers into supporters.
Many of you have been there from the very beginning; before the brochures, website or the business cards. Trusting nothing but my words, you all took a leap a faith to support a non established, unorganized and overtly amateur endeavor. We have come so far together; organized a handful of fundraising events, raised over 35 thousand dollars and supported over a dozen self sustaining education projects. Our presence continues to grow both in Tanzania and here in the States and I couldn’t be more proud of the work we have done and more importantly the work we will continue to do. My gratitude and appreciation for every volunteer minute, words of advice and donation is unyielding.
Since we started this undertaking, our mission has always been on self sustainable projects. I spent years studying foreign policy and the work of non governmental agencies and found the ONLY successful efforts are ones that taught the people how to help themselves with long term education. This method of aid is challenging as it requires extra skills, time and money. It also complicates our relationships in Tanzania as it is extremely difficult to look at a child who needs help now and explain that our projects are securing their futures. Despite the challenges, we have stuck to this and I have no qualms about saying we are succeeding.
As many of you know our success hasn’t come easy. Beyond the physical hours paid to the organization, emotionally this business is tough, rewarding but tough. There have been countless times when we have had to make heartbreaking decisions which constantly weigh heavily on our consciousness. Personally, running TEP is like riding a rollercoaster. There is loads of rejection, feelings of ineptitude, followed by appreciation and utter joy for what I do.
After watching my Tanzanian Grandmother ‘Bibi’ fall ill and die in August of 2010, my world turned upside down. She was the inspiration for TEP and moving forward without her seemed unbearable. I know from the bottom of my soul that TEP is bigger than us and I needed to continue to give everything I could to this mission.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one that lost Bibi. My dearest friend and Tanzanian relative Lucian better known as Father also lost his Grandmother. (For his full story please read post: Thursday, December 23 and Sunday, September 18) Although many people relied on Bibi for support, Father’s life depended on his Grandmother’s love and watchful eyes. Over the past year, Father’s life has gotten extremely difficult and the board members of TEP were faced with yet another tough decision. We knew that if we didn’t step in, we would lose him. Whether you are a first time reader or an avid supporter, I ask you to trust our decision to support Father the best we can. If this wasn’t life or death for this little boy, this may be a different story but I refuse to allow him die to on our watch. We will continue to give everything we can to this organization and I hope you can join (or continue to join) our effort to save lives.
As always- Thank you,
Cassie
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