Thank you all for being patient with this post. After 10 days with little, if any access to the internet, I’m now able to share this extremely long blog post with you. Enjoy, Larry
A Journey to Education
Sulehun Primary School, Bo District (Sierra Leone, West Africa)
I had a feeling we were getting close when the white, Programme for Children, Toyota SUV in front of us came to an abrupt halt on the narrowing red dirt road to Sulehun. I could see others exiting vehicles behind us in the passenger mirror. I did the same. Although God wanted this momentous occasion to be one that most in my native land would experience with an umbrella, West African’s gladly let this day’s liquid sunshine replace the previous day’s oppressive temperature. Drums, Shakers, hundreds of children voices drew me forward. Making my way to the front, a clearing on my right put my feelings in motion. For 18 months, I’ve imagined what that initial view of the life changing, Sulehun Primary School would be like. More than the beautiful soft yellow and blue structure in my view, I immediately began wondering what my Mom would think of this first access milestone my friends made possible by sharing and trusting in this endeavor. She met a similar feat for 100 inner city, under actualized kids, albeit a bit closer to home when I was 10 years old.
Cindy Nofziger, Executive Director, Schools for Salone (USA) pulled my left arm into the slowly moving line of dancing villagers headed to the center of this 1000 member tribal village. Because I represented the donor group, Friends of Sulehun USA, it was customary my presence was to be leading this sea of West African humanity. Hundreds of uniformed children lined the route singing Welcome, Welcome with their tiny hands extended seeking a handshake. Short of the day Daniela came into this world, I’ve never managed this set of emotions before. It was magnificent and deeply humbling. My grandfather’s words ran through my head as I worked to shake every hand that came toward me with plenty of reaction from my tear ducts. He said, there are only three kinds of people. People that watch things happen, people that make things happen, and people who have no idea what happened. I so want these children to realize that this education opportunity will help them discover a path unknown to them previous to the school day.
Sulehun, the village itself, straddles a single lane running through it. Another group of several dozen children welcomed us as we reached the center of the ½ mile long village. Sulehun is difficult to find in a world atlas or even country map, but this experience had me feeling like I was visiting the center of the universe based on the momentous gathering I was experiencing. As I stepped out of the light rain into the covered public meeting spot, I took notice that for this occasion the village had added another 25 foot temporary addition covered in palm branches. The dozens of children were directed out of that area to gather near our feet in front so more villagers could get out of the rain. With three long head tables representing multiple branches of village, regional, and national leadership, the formally dressed chairman was introduced in what was to be a two hour set of impassioned speeches and prayers representing both the Christian and Muslim faiths. I’ve taken away many things from this experience. One of them is how this tiny West Africa nation gives plenty of space to each other’s faith. I was witness to several examples of members from different faiths sitting literally side by side celebrating each other’s beliefs. I saw so many ways that faith builds strength in communities because every denomination is equally respected and important for the villages day to day needs. The school in Sulehun will be administered by New Harvest Ministries, led by a dynamic, humorous, and quite likable Pastor. He too, was among the half dozen that took the microphone to speak. His messages (spoken in a mixture of English and the local dialect) included three fantastic parables that had myself and the entire audience on the edge of our plastic chairs. I’ve always had great admiration for well told stories that help bring a lesson everyone in the room needs/wants to hear. He sought from everyone that would listen, their commitment to the new school and all it could possibly bring. His messages also brought home the notion that everyone should avoid waiting for someone else to act. Scanning the printed program, I could see my turn was next.
I shared the follow message:
“The words I’m going to share with you today are a set of gifts from my mother. She believed every person was born with a heart and must use it to share love in order to be happy. This school was built for Sulehun so we could share. I hope you can see how sharing makes all of us happy. I am the father of a 12 year old daughter. The mothers in my village lead the children and I believe it is our highest calling as men to support them and especially lift up the girls. It took 60 Friends of Sulehun USA to fund the construction of this new school. I have brought these hand prints that I hope you will hang in the school. Like myself, each contributor to this school project believes that education is the key to discovering your potential. In this village are the future leaders of Sulehun, Sierra Leone, and the world. To close, I want to share a set of words spoken by an American singer that brings home all that my mother believed about people, including every one of you in Sulehun. Stevie Wonder spoke these words: If you have a heart, love someone. If your heart is big enough, love everyone. Thank you.”
Because my words were being translated, I was able to stay measured and within my own emotional head. Like my initial view of the school, I’d been imagining this set of moments for quite some time after seeing these village forums during my first visit in 2016. Each message was given with significant enthusiasm and some at great length. Because a school is a giant, game changing development, many leaders must accept direct accountability before it can become a fixture in the community. Each publicly acknowledged that stake and implored the parents and children to do the same. This level of accountability and transparency was a catalyst for bringing this idea to many of you to support. Investing lots of time and money on a project in a village you cannot even find on a map takes immense trust and faith. I thank you for that. It’s my belief that each of us will discover opportunities to lift up communities both near and far. The beneficiaries of this project are the dozens of small hands I got to touch as I walked into this really special place.
The final piece of the seated program was by far the most personal for me. The Paramount Chief (highest tribal office) ask me to stand, presented me two beautiful gifts and these most honored words: “The people and the children of Sulehun are most grateful for this opportunity you have brought. Our community has been without any way to educate our children since our make shift school was destroyed more than 10 years ago. For this great gift you have made to us, we must honor you with your own village name. This is the name of the founding family members of Sulehun. It will be yours forever and each time you return, we will recognize you with it. Tenglyeh: that is your name from this day forward”
There are few words that can possibly follow such a giant tribute. I put my hands in a prayerful position and gave thanks to the high chief and the community. With the eyes of the entire community on me, the words of my awesome Dad ran though my head. He’s the one that’s provided much of the access to my confidence in making significant things happens. “Just make us proud son” is the message he’s shared on more than one memorable occasion. It is moments like this that make me realize that I could have born anywhere. Luckily, I was born in a family and in a country that really does make nearly anything you wish, a possibility so long as you are willing to see it through and ask others to come along for the experience.
With speeches complete, the audience stood and we began a procession to the school for the ribbon cutting. Mother Nature gave us dry passage and a good sized group had already assembled on the playground. Seeing the aqua ribbon running the length of the school, I realized this was a succession of ribbon cuttings, one for each of the four dark blue steel doors. Our brief pause in the rain ended, so we jammed as many under the eve as possible and I was handed a pair of red handled school scissors. Trying best to recognize the weight of this occasion, especially for 200 children and a community that will be forever elevated to a new human experience, I tried to let these moments last forever. It’s important to look back at how this occasion came to be. In 2016, I accepted an invitation to travel Sierra Leone with Seattle-based Schools for Salone. During that five day visit, my first in Africa, I was shaken by the remarkable contrast of life on my continent and that of the people that live in the villages of rural Sierra Leone. I noted not just how grateful I am to have been born in America but also what a giant responsibility I felt called to accept. That echo was amplified when days earlier, a seven year old girl asked me a question that inevitably became the title of my book Which one am I? as she studied a group photo I’d taken that included her. It was difficult for me to avoid that one question as it played through my mind, moment after moment, prompting me to find an answer. At the conclusion of that initial visit two years ago, I sat in a window seat on an aged A330 getting ready to depart Sierra Leone for Brussels with that single question at the front of my mind. I’d seen 1000 places I felt could use assistance. As the engines wound, that 15 minutes chance visit to the village (Sulehun) for which I couldn’t remember the name became my answer. The mission was clear, even before the wheels left the runway.
I’ve never spent much time asking “the how” in my life. From childhood, my days have been used seeking “the what” instead. This, of course, hasn’t always made me the optimal partner in most endeavors, including leading a building project in Sulehun, Sierra Leone. Fortunately for me, my much better half Jill is strong on details. She endorses my wildest thoughts, this one included. She asked lots of good questions and I rarely have solid responses. The most important thing is Jill understands the shape of my heart and the volume of my soul. She gets that I live in service to others and in honor of my late mother. I’m hopeful our desire to be good to the world will be passed to Daniela when her calling comes. Both of them provided immense background planning and hands on work getting this project (and plenty of my other wild ideas) to the finish line. Jill and Daniela are two of nearly 100 generous people that have given time, talent and treasure to the 200 children in Sulehun. Many of you have trusted me to deliver your charitable giving. Others have helped me host events and some (like Katina George) have imagined décor to transport event attendees to Africa without leaving the local zip code. I’ve also been the beneficiary of beautiful graphic design by Sonja Gerard, who magically translates my thoughts into images well beyond what my brain could ever bring forward. It’s not lost on me that it takes a community in my own area code to build out a school and village community center in the farthest reaches of West Africa. I’m beyond grateful that many have answered this “what” without much question about “how”.
With scissors in hand, a good sized lump in my throat, and my mother front and center in my thoughts, the severed ribbon fell away from the shiny new, blue steel door and the rain soaked crowd cheered. Each classroom door was inaugurated with a ribbon cutting by a community member. Following photos by our fantastic photographer Simon, I walked to the farthest spot on the five acre field in front to the school. I’d yet to see the entire school building from afar. A small boy followed me and we stood looking at his new school from a distance. I tried to explain that a whole bunch of people in my country wanted him to learn how to read and be able to identify his potential as a human being. Although my verbal message wasn’t clear to him, I believe the hug we shared allowed both us to realize this gift of education was the greatest form of love one could ever make possible. In the words of a special friend Heather, The joy goes to the Giver.
During another break in the rain, we made our way back to the village gathering spot for a traditional meal prepared by a trusted confidant of our host. Cassava leaf over rice is a national dish in Sierra Leone that often includes fish or chicken. Good sized, flat beans turn up in every other spoon full.
Picante at first bite, the heat dissipates and the flavor sets in. Although it wouldn’t win 1st prize in any food styling contest, you can easily run for most of a day on one serving. Cassava is about the size of a medium maple leaf but much less uniform. Leaves are pounded, boiled in palm oil and combined with the rest. The tuber or root of the cassava plant is often used in cooking as well. Some use the root as a way of replenishing a dehydrated body. A part of nearly all meals are the local, fresh mango and pineapple. As a frequent consumer of fruit on my native soil, I’ve simply never tasted such intense flavor, especially the pineapple. Round instead of the normal oblong shape, the locals make quick work shedding the green skin with a rustic knife. Although I try not to be, one could refer to me as the hog at the table when it comes to making sure the fruit is all gone. Fruit is typically sold on the side of the road by children earning funds for the household income. Fruit is also a suitable gift to share when a guest is leaving the village.
As a last, and for me important part of becoming closer to those who will benefit from the project we’d come to celebrate, I wanted to walk the village. This activity was a bit of a coming out for me on my last visit when our vehicle left myself and another visitor at the beginning of the village so we could experience the village members up close and personal. This was the day (in July 2016) I became connected to the people I’ve come to know as Sierra Leoneans. To some, the society appears poor and without their basic needs met. The fact is they have everything they need and much of what we (Americans) wish we had more of. Recent thought leaders have told us about the significance of our “tribe” and how everything good is best when it’s shared. This is a village concept of normality and I’m a giant fan. I now wondering how much my years of independence have cost me? Even with my very limited exposure to seeing how tribal leadership impacts the overall community, how can I infuse my own tribe to better serve each other? During one of our many drives together, I told our driver John how much I admired watching his countrymen (and especially women) try with immense effort and determination. Although his rich, thick West African accent often made his English tough for me to understand, this time his response was clear and inspiring. In these days of major political change (for the first time in over a decade) there is a noticeable call for personal responsibility, public cleanliness, and education for all. John has caught the spirit as well. His response: “We have too much to gain” to keep our efforts at the level of the past. “We have to try harder and smarter, that’s what I want my children to see in me”.
With a welcome break from the rain, the chairman walked our delegation and many locals to the end of the village and back. He made note of the founder’s village homes and where the sacred burial sites remain. He reminded me that my status in the community was not temporary and that he expected to see me visit again. Because I’d mentioned I was a father to Daniela in my prepared comments, he made it a point to extend an invitation to her and promised she too would receive a Sulehun name upon her visit. What I would give to share this gift with her. Our walk continued until we reached the edge of Sulehun where the school property begins. A crowd was still gathered including circles of girls singing. I didn’t want to leave but the two vehicles and our drivers sat at the ready. Our journey would be at least four hours back to Freetown and against better judgment, much of this drive would be in the dark. Even though plenty of others reminded me it was time to go, I savored each last moment on the field. This was not a “project” for me. It was an opportunity to demonstrate my deepest appreciation to my mother who spent her entire life providing safety and cover for children, some of them extremely vulnerable. I also believe much of the interest on this investment (by over 60 contributors) will be paid in an elevated human experience for hundreds children every year.
Looking over my shoulder until the school building was out of site, I once again silently gave thanks to my family (especially my mother) who never put limits on anything so long as it was in service to others. That’s how this school was built.
There are so many I must share gratitude with for making this school building endeavor possible. I’ve listed them and encourage you to reach out and share your own appreciation to them directly.
Programme for Children (Sierra Leone) Hon. Joseph W Lemin MP, Executive Director
Schools for Salone (USA) Cindy Nofziger, Executive Director
Community of Sulehun (Bo District, Sierra Leone)
Friends of Sulehun (USA) Larry J Snyder, Donor Representative