When They Become We
They're Here!
They arrived last Thursday.
A five-hour bus ride to Nairobi. Six hours to Istanbul. Another ten to JFK. And here they were.
It's funny now as I type the word "they," I realize the imprecision of such pronouns. They are not they anymore. They have become we. Children I've loved for five years are now sleeping soundly in my very own home after I tucked them in bed with a sweet "lala salama." Tomorrow, they'll go trick-or-treating in my neighborhood, with boys and girls just like them in so many ways - except geography and circumstance.
We are together.
It's a strange and, in some ways, a strained life I've created. My very best friends in the world live a twenty-hour plane ride away, and though we're always together in spirit, it's so much better to have them here in person. I can hardly believe it.
I can't tell you for how long I've wanted to invite them, and how many times I've said to myself: it's impractical, Stacey. It's unrealistic. What little money you have, you should save for building classrooms, not a trip to America. Besides, they can't all come. You couldn't choose only one or two. Your wish could simply never come true. Your community will think it's frivolous. No one would contribute to bring them. It's silly, Stacey. Silly. Stop dreaming.
But sure enough, when I dared whisper my wish into the universe, the money appeared like a miracle in just two days. And sure enough, a month later, here they are sleeping in the next room. Except Gideon. He never sleeps. The internet & plentiful electricity are a distraction from such basic human necessities as rest.
We'll be sharing photos from the journey on instagram as we travel, and Leah & Gideon will be blogging on tumblr. Trust me, if yesterday & today were any indication, you won't want to miss even a moment.
Especially moments like this one:
Tonight my niece Zoe, and three of her friends had dinner with Leah & Gideon. At the table I asked about the stereotypes they had about African children before meeting Leah & Gideon. They responded with trepidation. Isaac said: "I thought they had good morals and were close to their families." Jackie said: "I didn't know what to expect." They were careful not to say anything that might offend Leah; already they'd become fast friends.
But then I rephrased my question and instead asked: "What do most American children think about African children?" Then, with less hesitation, they answered in turn. Isaac said, "They come from a bad economic situation. They're poor." Zoe said, "They're vulnerable in some way. They're weak. Or sick." Jackie said, "They're tribal."
Across from them sat Leah, intently listening. To her I asked, "How does it feel to know some may think this about children from your country?" She replied:
"It makes me sad. But this is why I'm here, you know. To show them how great we can be."And, in those moments, it was as crystal clear to my rational mind as it has been to my heart all along. This trip is anything but frivolous. And as important as anything we've yet done. Perhaps more. Friendship changes everything. It changes "they" into "we". What happens when Leah is no longer some distant "other" but instead a girl just like me? What happens when our children realize Gideon's good at video games, and Leah's just as smart and strong and full of possibility as they are? What happens when we get close enough to find ourselves in one another? Do we still tolerate one of "us" having less access to education, water, food, basic healthcare, sanitation and electricity? When "they" become "we," will something radical shift in this beautiful, broken universe of ours? I'm willing to bet it just might. And I'm hoping you'll join us on the journey.
- Meet up with us in person in one of these cities.
- Follow Epic Change on Facebook to see our latest trip photos from Instagram.
- Subscribe to the Epic Change blog via email.
- Check out Gideon's blog. And Leah's too!
Posted: October 31st, 2011 under The Foundry.
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THEY'RE COMING!!!!!
THEY'RE COMING!!!!!
Yep, you read that right. On October 27th, Mama Lucy & two of her students will soon make the long journey from Moivaro village to the USA for a month-long visit. For the children, this will be their first trip out of their own country.
My hope is you'll want to hug them in person. To witness their hopeful hearts first-hand. Trust me, if my own experience is any indication, just being in their presence could change you forever. When you realize that seemingly impossible dreams are realized from nothing more than hope & chickens, you're forced to reckon with the unspoken truth that you already have enough to create every possibility you've dared to imagine. That's life changing. At least, it has been for me.
You can help welcome 
This weekend, just after they'd picked up their US visas from Dar Es Salaam, Mama Lucy wrote me this note and sent a few photos from her cell phone: