A Day at the Beach

He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

Matthew 18: 2-4

Today is the first day of our two-week midterm break.  There is something so exciting and motivating knowing that the next two weeks are totally free- free of alarms or schedules or meetings, but also free to take long morning walks, free to watch a movie in the middle of the day or stay up late finishing the last chapters of a book I can’t put down.  It’s also exciting because on the 1st of September, it started to rain.  Our short rainy season has brought with it cooler, cloudy, fall-like days, that make you want to curl up with a blanket and light a cinnamon candle.  I’m pretty much in heaven.  

But heaven looked a lot different for my fifth grade class last week.  As a reward for every student passing their National Examinations in fourth grade, our head teacher Kalokola promised the class that he would take them to the beach.  He had been discussing this trip with me since receiving their results early in the year, but there was always something that got in the way of our going.  Finally, last Tuesday, we got our chance.  We planned to leave after the second period- around 9:30- and we would have to return before lunch at 2:00, so it would be a short trip, but the class was excited, nonetheless.  We went over the rules and expectations as they sat eagerly with their grocery sacks of sandals and kangas (fabric wraps).  They ran to line up outside the bus door and waited impatiently for the driver.  For some of them, even getting on the bus was exciting.  They bobbed up and down, grinning from ear to ear as we pulled out of the school compound.  

We drove ten minutes down the main highway before turning off onto a dirt road.  The kids’ faces were glued to the windows as they pointed out tea plantations and monkeys along the way.  Thirty bumpy, hilly minutes later, we arrived.  As soon as their feet touched the sandy driveway, they were off, running towards the beach and the clear, Lake Victoria water.  It was overcast and cool, but that didn’t stop them from hiking up their skirts and shorts and wading as far into the water as they could.  Some ran to the swing set, taking turns pushing one another higher and higher.  Others grabbed a soccer ball and hurried to the open field to start a match.  Some walked as far down the beach as possible, collecting shells and sticks until their hands and pockets were full.  

I found a flat spot halfway down the beach and spread my quilt across the sand. I sipped my coffee and watched as my forty students played without a care in the world.  Their joy was indescribable.  I tried to take as many candid photos and videos as I could, but also made a point to get an individual photo of every student in front of the water.  It is amazing to look back at those photos now and see each one’s personality perfectly captured in their effortless poses.  

It was difficult to let myself really take in what was going on around me without becoming totally overwhelmed by it.  But after having some time to reflect on the day, it is not lost on me how important those few hours at the beach were to my forty students.  For some of them, it was the first time in a long time that they could just be a kid and have fun.  They didn’t have to think about studying, or grades, or housework, or school fees.  No one was telling them where to go or what to do.  They could just be.  And that is a luxury that many in Tanzania, and all over the world, rarely get to experience.  

The hours passed quickly, and it was time to head home.  Of course we struggled to get everyone in position to take a group photo before they dusted the sand from their toes and piled back onto the bus.  No one wanted to leave, but they were still all smiles as we bounced and bumped back down the dirt road and onto the highway towards school.  You could see a little bit of pride on their faces as the other grade levels watched them unloading from the bus.  They knew that their trip to the beach was special, and that they had worked hard for it.  

After thinking about our trip and looking through all of the pictures, I decided to take some time the next day to speak with each student one-on-one.  We discussed their grades and their classroom behavior, but also about their home lives- who they lived with, what their guardians did for a living, if there is enough food at home, if they have a water tap or if they are going to fetch it using buckets, if they had any health concerns or if anyone in their family was sick.  If they were boarding students, I also asked them about their life at school- are they happy in their dorms, do they have friends, are they having any problems with other students.  While some of them gave very straight forward answers, indicating that their home life was good and they had two parents who both worked and were able to care for them well, many told a different story.  Most were going home to a single mother and many siblings.  Most didn’t know their father, or if they did, never saw him.  Most didn’t have a source of water at home, so they were going to fetch it every other day.  Most of them had enough food to eat but recognized that their mothers worked very hard to provide it for them.  Out of the forty students, only three admitted that there was not enough food at home.  When asked about their life at school, all of them told me that they were happy in the dorms.  That they love being a boarding student.  And when the day students were asked if they wanted to be boarders, all of them said “yes”.  Some students were living without mothers or without either parent, but with grandparents instead.  They started to cry, and I fought back my own tears, as they told me how long it had been since they had seen their parents.  

Whenever a student told me about a specific problem, whether it be with a school subject or an issue with another student or at home, I asked them what I could do to help.  The most common response was, “No teacher, I can handle it myself.”  My heart broke as I reminded them that they aren’t all grown up yet, and it is okay to ask for help.  They looked away, smiling a little.  We came up with a solution to each problem together, and I watched as encouragement filled their eyes and they nodded, recognizing that it could help.  

After our parents’ meeting on Thursday, many of my students brought their guardian to meet me before leaving school for break.  It was wonderful to put a face to their stories and to be able to tell each one something good about their student.  I made sure that the students who told me they didn’t have enough food at home left school with a big bag of beans, and I said a little prayer that it would help get them through until they came back to school.  I gave them big hugs and reminded them to be safe as they walked away.  “Yes teacher.  Miss you!” they called.  “Miss you, too!” I called back, meaning it. 

So as much as I am excited for the freedom of these two weeks, my heart is with my forty kids who aren’t here every day, and the hundreds of others whose stories I didn’t get to hear last week.  For some of them, this two-week break means eating their favorite foods and watching cartoons, but for others, they are counting down the days until they are back in their dorms at KEMPS.  Would you keep them in your prayers with me?  Would you pray for their health and safety and happiness, especially during these two weeks?  

Mungu akubariki,
Allee

If you would like to donate towards my work in Tanzania, you can send donations electronically using: 

Venmo: @Alison-Gomulka

Cash App: $AlisonGomulka

PayPal: PayPal.Me/AlisonRGomulka

Zelle: alisonrg24@gmail.com

If you would prefer to send a check, you can mail it to:

Alison Gomulka

15601 Shady Brook Lane

College Station, TX

77845