East Villagers Service Scholar

Please share a volunteer experience and its impact on your life

Service. Derived from the Latin word servitium. To treat or to act towards in a specific way, to furnish or supply with something. Service. Giving without expecting anything in return. Service. A word that represents my heart.

I am eight years old, sitting in a small Sunday school classroom surrounded by three and four year olds. The teacher is telling the little ones the story of Christ’s birth as I begin to prepare for snack time. Although my tasks are far from major, I feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that my miniscule actions are touching someone’s life.

Fast forward seven years. Graffiti branded on the side of buildings, homeless men wandering the streets, trash flooding the streets, teens eating and laughing in a small fast food restaurant, small children glued to their mothers hip as they walk home from school together. This is where life takes me as I teach third graders at an elementary school in Baltimore City. Sixteen children excitedly broadcasting the events of the school day to each other, two children breaking rules they know aren’t meant to be broken, one child in a deep slumber, and six children attentively watching my every move. But as I yell “MIC CHECK, MIC CHECK” they immediately respond “1-2, 1-2” coming to attention like grown men in the army. I continue to keep their focus as I teach them about the dangers of engaging in drugs, alcohol, pre-marital sex, and violence. These children nod in agreement with the words I tell them, as the consequences are all too familiar to them. Service.

As I look out the car window, my jaw hits the ground at what I see.  Dirt, trash, huts, poverty, sadness. I am sitting in the backseat of a bus that’s chugging its way through the dirt roads of Lusaka, Zambia, Southern Africa. The setting around me is eye popping; it’s not at all what I am used to when I come to visit my mother’s home country. As I soak in the scenery, I realize that these people’s lives are about to be changed forever. As the bus attracts curious stares from everyone it passes, I remember the day when my mother announced that she and I would be returning home to lay the foundation for a new school, orphanage, and community center that we would build on land that we had inherited.

But getting to this point was not easy. It took the creation of The Jacaranda Center, lots of faith, lots of struggle, and lots of money. But a few plane tickets and 18 hours later, we were standing in the Motherland, preparing to be a blessing to the people of Bwembya Village.

Trekking up to rural Kasama, north of Lusaka, was no fun. Sitting in the cramped backseat of my cousins sedan, squished between my mother and grandmother, for ten hours was enough to make me crazy. Flying over potholes, driving on dirt roads, and maneuvering through crowds of people was an art in itself! But eventually we got there, and the first thing we had to do was get approval from the Headman, the chief of the village. We sat in his modest house, explaining our objective, silently praying that he would be on our side. And he was! He gave us his blessing and stood behind us 100%, excited that we were giving back to the community.

The next step was to survey the land and create a site map of where each building would be located. We walked our property with the Headman and others on our team and decided what would go where and what needed to be done. It was a very productive day.

Although I was excited about what we were doing in Kasama, I still had a hole in my spirit. I have such a heart for children and knowing all that I had in America, and seeing all that the children don’t have in Zambia, made me cringe. This was especially true when we went to visit Hope and Faith Community School, in the shantytowns of Lusaka. No playground, just an open dirt plot, no bigger than a classroom. No heating. No air conditioning. No electricity. Not enough books. Not enough materials.

My intention was to visit this school, see a possible need, and be a blessing. I was not at all expecting to be changed myself. These children, especially the little ones, with eyes the size of the moon, and joy unthinkable, really convicted me and made me think of all that I take for granted.

Just think, walking into a tiny classroom, cracked walls made of concrete, one window. Wood desks, four feet long, 15 inches wide, five kids to a desk. One small classroom, 40 kids to a room. Smiles everywhere. Laughter filling the space. Kids eager and excited just to be given an opportunity to get an education.

We take education for granted here in America. We complain when we don’t have enough text books to go around or have to share with our neighbor. We fuss when the classrooms are too cold or too hot. We moan when we are forced to take tests and do homework. We groan and pout on the first day of school. We curse the person who invented school! But the children of Zambia love school, yet have nothing compared to what we have. They don’t mind doing homework and taking tests. It’s fine with them. They are so grateful for what they have, even though it is very little.

This touched me immensely, so I decided to do something.

Dance is not only a gift that I have, it is also my passion. It’s something I hope to pursue and even plan on majoring in it in college. Business is also important to me. I have owned my own baking business for 7 years and will minor in entrepreneurship in college. I hope that my passion for dance and business will one day fuse together in the form of a dance studio.

With that said, I hope to bless the children of Zambia in ways they would never imagine. I hope to raise money to go towards building an orphanage and elementary school for the children in Bwembya Village and to collect hundreds of books for Hope and Faith Community School, in Lusaka. I dream of using my passion for dance and business to bring together famous dance companies from around the world to participate in a benefit dance concert for the children at Hope and Faith Community School. Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, American Ballet Theater, South African Ballet Theater, Imagine Tap, and a variety of other dance companies. I dream of people of all different colors, all different sizes, all different backgrounds coming together, twirling, leaping, gliding on a huge stage in Lusaka. I dream of costumes, make up, and colored lights. I dream of people filing through the auditorium doors, books and checks in hand, anxious to see a remarkable performance, prepared to give up paperbacks they don’t read and make donations they never thought they would make. I dream of dancing on a stage, the spotlight shining on my head, like an angelic halo. I dream of taking my bow and looking out into the audience. I dream of seeing the children of Hope and Faith School and the children of Bwembya in the front row, clapping their hands sore, smiling like they have just won the lottery. I dream of feeling completely satisfied, knowing that I have positively impacted the lives of many children, and knowing that they are now equipped to become the doctors, policemen, teachers, and veterinarians that they never thought they could become.