Max's Memories of Tanzania

It's easy to forget; to push those "things" to the dark corners of your mind and lose them in the tumult of your day-to-day existence. My heartbreaking, amazing, reality-shifting trip to Tanzania is just one of those "things". But as Youth Ambassadors we can’t - we can’t lose hold of the memories that bind us to that terrifyingly beautiful land that still beckons us, and urges us to do more. The people and the places that have shaped an experience unlike anything else we are likely to encounter in our lives. We have been entrusted with channelling the dreams and hopes of so many, to educate the world about poverty. With whispered words, begging us to remember names, faces, stories - “don’t forget us.” – we return to Canada.

It’s been a month since we’ve returned from our continent-hopping adventure and one thing seems to be stuck in my head – the people of Tanzania are in no way poor. In fact, they’re about as far away from the word “poor” as is imaginable. You see, the word “poor” conjures up a mental image of sad, lonely people lacking in spirit and all but deprived of community. This couldn’t be farther from the truth. The Tanzanians we met were some of the most friendly, vivacious and intelligent people I have ever had the fortune of spending time with. It was immensely difficult to associate their smiling faces with our Westernized views of the developing world.

The Youth Forum was especially eye opening. We spent 4 days with Tanzanian and Rwandan teens – any of them could have EASILY been in my high school. I can imagine them eating lunch with my friends, or studying in the library or hanging out afterschool. And that’s what took me by surprise. These people, many of whom come from very trying circumstances, are just your average teen. They may seemingly be “a world away” but they still get caught up in relationship drama, the rumour mill - that all important question, “what do I wear today!?” I wish with all my heart that things of that superficial nature would be the only things that they would have to worry about. But unfortunately, many of the youth we got to know faced situations few in our comfortable homeland have experienced. AIDS, broken homes and scarcity of supplies have all played their part in making their lives extraordinarily difficult. However, what strikes me the most about these people is how incredibly strong they are. They don’t lose themselves in their own problems – they acknowledge their hardships without letting it define who they are.

If my trip to Tanzania had to have a “moral to the story” it would be this: World Vision really is making a difference. Hallmarks of World Visions’ successes were everywhere. Families transformed through agricultural reform teachings and water pumps that literally served thousands were only a couple of the highly visible differences we saw. Some of the changes were more subtle. World Vision quite literally transforms attitudes. People who once thought only of strife and despair were given a chance to thrive, the ability to hope. World Vision Canada is particularly active in Tanzania and it was inspiring to see that the efforts of youth were going to good use. Programs like the 30 Hour Famine funds many of the schools, villages and development projects we saw. So, yes, I am going to be cliché and say, “you can make a difference!”

One memory stands out among the rest for me. It was late evening; the huge African sun was half hidden behind the mountains. Everything was awash in that golden colour - elongating shadows - making even the most ordinary contour of the land exceptionally beautiful. We were making our way back to our hotel from the Ngorongoro crater after essentially our only day of safari/tourist-y things. But what made that day special to me wasn’t the safari - it was the ride home. We were still in our open-top jeep, dirt-stained after a day of trekking around the crater. All six of us YAs were hanging out the top of the car, hands wide out as if wanting to embrace all of Tanzania. And in some ways we did. People on the roadways, be they carrying goods home from the market, or just out for a stroll, waved to us. We sped along, collecting dirt in every nook and cranny of our faces, laughing and calling out to the people in the villages.

What I remember most vividly is coming to the realization that my memories of Tanzania would never find themselves in the dark corners of my mind.