I am sitting in an internet cafe in Bagamoyo, Tanzania. This morning was typical, I woke up and got ready for yet another incredible day. There was no disappointment, if anything, it was one of the best.

I went to Mlingutini Primary School quite far away from Bagamoyo and walked into an eager classroom. As us volunteers organized ourselves, a young three year old stumbled into the room and sat next to a young girl, who was easy assumed as an older sibling. When we started the class, the girl, Wa, had her younger brother go outside. I didn't think much of it until recess.

The jumping ropes were spinning in full force, the American football was being thrown with surprisingly good spirals, and the frisbees were slicing the cool air under the beaming sun. The young boy was walking around, no parent in sight. After some time, I learned that both his parents were at work and siblings were in school. Thus, the three year old was left to fend for himself.

He was clearly suffering from malnutrition (physical signs of body shape, etc. were obvious) and after a local volunteer assisted me, we learned that he was also suffering from some sort of severe illness - possibly typhoid. Fortunately, there were multiple volunteers in my class this day so I was able to spend an hour with the boy. He gulped down a water bottle and was much more talkative then. I brought him into the class, feeling sad, upset, even angry that the people responsible for this child were just leaving him alone.

The moment he came into the classroom, I learned something though. I learned the try meaning of community. We often hear in the Western world that a community raises a child in Africa, not just the family. I brought the boy into the classroom and his sister was on the other side, distracted, and unaware. Other children though sat with him and gave him a marker while I gave him paper. He sat, thrilled to be included, and scribbled for quite some time.

When it was time to leave, the boy was crying and trying to race pass his sister to run to me. My heart wrenched as I said, "tutaonana kesho..." It was not enough. We came back to him and all the children crowded around us. Two other volunteers and I said goodbye as we gave him a small piece of candy. As we turned, I was amazed. The other older children did not want candy, did not want attention, but screamed and howled and danced around the young baby distracting him and amusing him while we left. I will forever remember this young boy, the struggles that he will face, and the incredible support he has. As I sit here typing, listening to singing children outside, I realize that not only can Africa learn from the Western world, but the Western world still has much to learn.

While touring through Kampala today, I found myself at the top of a mosque tower. From there, three young girls were waving to me. I waved back and gave a huge smile, it was an exciting moment. Then, the girls started running towards the mosque. I looked at Kaserra and asked, can we go meet them? He said of course and we spiraled our way back down the stairs. We met the girls and, fortunately, one of them spoke quite good English.

Her name was Elizabeth and she was with her two sisters. She was only eleven years old, the others being ten and three. After talking for a few minutes with the girls, we were invited to visit their home. From standing at the top of the tower, I knew that they had come from the direction of the slums. I waited for the nod from the driver and we began to follow Elizabeth and her two sisters.

It was a short yet rather difficult walk, up and down steep hills, past the wild goats, and into a different world. We passed many slums with several people walking out or looking at me and Kaserra. We walked down a long dirt path with slums on both sides until the girls stopped. Elizabeth, with a great smile, looked at me and said this is my mother. The woman turned and gave me a large smile, welcoming me to enter her home. The home was smaller then my bedroom at home, perhaps 8x8. Inside was a couch, some pictures on the wall, a television and two boys. Kaserra and I sat, as there wasn't exactly standing room, and we were joined by the family. The mother, Elizabeth, two younger girls, and the two boys.

We talked for over an hour. The two boys were 20 and 18, both wanting to become engineers. The father was at work (on Sunday) and the two eldest siblings, both girls, were 'away for school'. Elizabeth was unable to hide her smile when she told me about how she hopes to become a doctor. I learned a great deal about the struggles with money and HIV from the family, more then I have learned from reading over the past years in preparation for this trip.

To attend school, they explained to me, cost 47,500 shillings a term. As there are three terms, the cost is nearly 150,000 shillings per year. 1USD is about 1,550 shillings, so a year of school is, to round, about $100. Give or take on the school or level, this is a fair average from my understanding. Elizabeth and the 18 year old boy were in the same level of education, P6 (equivalent to grade 6) and I asked if I could see some of their work. Elizabeth was more then proud to open her book which was covered with check marks and scientific drawings. The most recent page on the boy's book had abbreviations of months in English, he was missing March and October. I helped him finish.

The youngest of the girls sat on my lap and played with my camera for most of the time. Her name was Soniya and was three years old. Kaserra and I drank the water the mother gave us, which was paid for an hour walk away and then boiled when brough to the home and refridgerated. While talking, we jokes as Soniya had my camera glued to her face and was taking pictures, not realizing her hand was covering the lens. The funniest part was that the camera has no view finder!

On the way back to the mosque, and to the car, the children joined us. Elizabeth was walking next to me and asked me if there are primary schools in Canada. I said yes and she asked, if I was there, would they let me go. I said yes and she asked, so will you take me with you? I had no idea how to react so jokingly responded, your mother would not be happy with me. She looked up at me with a big smile, "My mother would be very glad." I knew that she meant her mom would be glad that she had gotten out of this life, away from poverty, into a world of opportunities.

Elizabeth's smile will not leave my mind. Her smile can be seen in each and every picture that was taken with them at their home and during our walk. I have no doubts that she will, one day, be a doctor. She told me, "Doctors help people. And people need help."

Wow. So, I am in Africa. The journey here was long, tiring, but exciting. It wasn't until half way through my flight to Dubai that I thought to myself, "I'm a world away from home." I travelled in peace though, knowing that I was only a phone call away from home. Although I am on my own during this trip, more now then ever do I realize that this is an experience for my friends and family as well.

So, once I landed in Dubai, it got interesting. Security was high and there were thousands of people in every direction. Although I was only in that airport for a couple hours, it was quite memorable and nerveracking. Then, Uganda. As I got off the plane, I started seeing army men, a first in my life. I video taped bits of the ride to the Karmali home, but some things certainly stand out in my mind.

Children carrying bricks, pushing a wheel barrel, and working hard. It was a very heart wrenching drive as one side of the road may be developed, slums were creating a shadow on the other side. In a day, I have already witnessed the painful inbalance that Africa has. While we drove through the city and I saw hundreds of people, I could not help but to think to myself that many of them must be infected with HIV. Still, there is one part of the drive that is sticking out in my mind the most.

Two boys, siblings, one probably a few years older, were carrying what looked like clay from one area to another. They were walking and the older brother was carrying quite a bit more then the younger one, which was understandable as the younger one must have been around 5 or 6 years old. He looked at the younger brother though and yelled something. Instinctively, both of them dropped what they were carrying and the younger starting chasing the older, both showing off their smiles. I wondered to myself, how long have they been out there, it's Saturday. Do they go to school? Or is this what they do each and every day? Even if it is just today that they are doing it, how are they in such good spirits?

There is hope, there is will, and there is the future. These young spirited boys are part of that future. By the size of their smiles, all I can say is that the future must be bright. Until the next time,

Abid

Abid Virani and Pinky Langat have been named to the Guelph Mercury's prestigious Top 40 Under 40 list. The two Board of Director members are cited for their extensive humanitarian and community-based initiatives.

• Guelph Mercury Top 40 Under 40 Profile: Pinky Langat
• Guelph Mercury Top 40 Under 40 Profile: Abid Virani

This was written on December 19th, 2007:

I wrote this once, and then I deleted it. It was too important to just forget, and I am forcing myself to write it again. It's about how, until now, as I plan my trip to Africa, I have been able to sense worry amongst my family. This, I understand. But, I feel like there is something I am missing, a certain understanding I am lacking. Tonight, I think some insight may have been shed.

It was a busy day - School, interview, meeting, shopping, library, and Boston Legal. On my way home from watching Boston Legal at a friends, whose house I wasn't planning on going to tonight, I began my eventful evening. I was driving up Stone, towards Victoria. I saw a guy on the right side of the road burried in blankets, standing around. I looked at him as I drove by and he gazed back at me with wide eyes. I thought about the recent closure of Change Now, the youth shelter in Guelph, and all the issues around it. I then thought about what my parents would say if I picked somebody off the side of the road, or how unsafe it would be to stop. So, I stopped.

I looked back and there were not any cars, so I reversed about 40 feet, silenced the music, and rolled down my window. He approached only after I said hey in an unconfident voice. I was not sure what I was doing, what to say, or what to do. I asked how he was feeling, and he said aright. He then seemed more comfortable, and leaned in closer. My mind raced when I saw his face, the man staring back at me looked to be about my age, perhaps a mere 17 like me. I asked him if I could take him for a coffee or something. He said he was alright. I got a drift from the chilly winter wind and asked him if he was sure. He told me he had a friend coming to pick him up. I offered again because I was unsure if he was being honest. He sincerely said thanks, but said he had to catch the ride. I had no choice but to drive away.

I got home, to see my mom comfortably watching TV, watching a nine year old girl covered in makeup talking about her busy day. I sat in front of my mom, purposely blocking the TV, and explained what just happened. I was hit hard, and saddened. We talked briefly and my mom watched me closely. Then, I got up and told her I'm going to see if he's still there. I asked my mom where the blankets were and she went and grabbed me a blue comforter. As I rushed out the house she gave me a hug and told me to be careful.

I drove quick, worried about how long he might have been outside, and how cold it was. I got stuck at a red light and my hand shook as I waited. I was nervous. I turned onto Stone, and went to where he was. There was nobody there. I continue driving wondering if he maybe walked or was walking but the bare street had nobody for miles. I returned home, with the blanket, glad that he had gotten picked up by a friend. Now, I'm worried about the next night he doesn't get picked up by a friend.

After coming home and talking about Change Now, and how poverty has no geographical restrictions, I learned something. My mom reminded me that I was going to see much much worst next summer in Africa. I heard that hint of worry and felt surprised. I realized that perhaps that part that I do not understand was because it was worry that I didn't know about. The worry is not of safety, health, physical well-being, ability, or even separation. The worry is of my emotional maturity - whether I can survive a summer in Africa. For the first time, I feel scared of what I might see next summer. And, my appreciation for my parents and brother have deepened.

They seem to know something that I don't totally understand, but if tonight was any sort of insight, then I am at a loss of words. They support me in the journey, and the journey started a long time ago. I cannot thank them again, but can only have the same faith they have in me; I can do it, and I will.

Thank you Fy, Mom, and Dad. Thank you to all those who have supported and continue to support me. It means the world!

We are thrilled to have completed the application process for school representatives for the Reaching Competition. The competition includes schools in the Upper Grand District School Board competing to make the largest monetary and non-monetary contribution to building a school in Kenya. Representatives will be notified during November and the competition will officially start December 1^st, 2007.

More about the Reaching Competition

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Student Reach co-chairs Abid Virani and Ashley Bondad were featured on the front page of the September 18, 2007 issue of the Guelph Tribune:

Centennial Collegiate Grade 12 students Ashley Bondad, left, and Abid Virani are trying to encourage students to reach out to people across the world during this school year. They're the founders of Student Reach, a student-run organization which they hope will soon be a registered non-profit group. It's starting a contest encouraging Guelph students to make a global impact. The Secondary School Reaching Competition, which will urge students to contribute to building a school in Kenya, will end with a benefit event and awards ceremony next May for all involved. The keynote speaker is Craig Kielburger, founder of Free the Children. Letters and information packages will be delivered this week to high school principals in Guelph asking their schools to participate. For information, visit www.student-reach.com.

Labels: guelph tribune