The beauty still strikes me. It’s not a type of beauty that can be put into words, but one you have to feel and see for yourself, and even then people often overlook it.
“What did you learn?!”- Multiple people
Year 1
I can still hear the chopping of her feet. I turned around and there she was again. I first met her at the school on campus in the summer of 2011. In a sea of stretched out arms, she stood there and just smiled at me. It was a moment I will never forget because that is when it struck me. I made my way through the crowd of kids and picked her up and she hugged me with a grip, it felt like she used every muscle in her small body not to let me go. It was almost a competition to see who wouldn’t let go first.
That entire day we spent together, we climbed trees, laughed, played soccer and ate together. During lunch that day, I got up to get my water bottle from the guesthouse, and as I was walking I heard the chopping of her feet, I turned around and there she was. I picked her up, and she used every muscle in her body not to let me go. Once again it struck me.
Later that day we were on the soccer field, she kept pointing at my livestrong band which I wore in remembrance of my grandmother, who died of cancer in July of 2005. I was reluctant to give up the bracelet because it was my way of keeping my grandmother close to my heart. Eventually, after thinking about it for hours, I gave her my band. For the next few hours I felt bare, and it stayed on my mind for the rest of the day.
The next day, I saw her again still wearing the livestrong band. I remember picking her up, but something was different this time. It wasn’t the same bear grabbing, hug, but yet a softer, looser hug, and for the first time she let go before me. I sat her down and she ran off. Couple hours later I go back to the school to say goodbye her, I searched everywhere and finally I asked her teacher where she was. Her teacher had told me that she had left; it was the last day of school. I saw the last of Kamadumyla.
Her beauty still strikes me. It’s not the type of beauty that can put into words, but one you have feel and see for your-self and even then people over look it. There was never a word spoken between us, but she taught me one of the most important lessons I’ve learned to this day. You have to let go.
Year 2, 3
“Do something to change the world.”- Tiamoya Collins, mom
One of my best friends, Hogan Gardner, and I were out one night talking to some of the school boys staying
I froze. Am I supposed to do something about it? Why is he asking me, I’m only 18?!
But then it struck me. This past summer, while helping Mr. Fredrick, one of the teachers at the school, he had mentioned in front of the class how bad the government was. I was sitting in the back of the room, and he looked at me and said, “Are you going to change it?” All the kids turned and looked at me, as I stared back. Am I supposed to do something about it? Why is he asking me I’m 19?! And that’s when it struck me. “Do something to change the world” Is this it?
The beauty of their eyes on me, awaiting an answer, still strikes me. It’s not a type of beauty that can be put into words, but one you have to feel and see for your-self, and even then people often overlook it.
Year 3
“Why do you keep going to Tanzania?” “Hope” I said. “You hope what?”…-Multiple People
Everyone has had those moments. Those moments in which you look up and down, left and right and you realize that the only thing left for you to do is hope. Hope that things would swing your way. That is what I feel about Tanzania, I Hope. As I finish my third year, I’ve learned more about the country itself than I did in the past two years. Tanzania is one of the poorest nations in the world, with a declining literacy rate. They have a corrupt government that tries to get money anyway they can. In a world of poverty and corruption it’s hard to find a silver lining. JBFC is that silver lining. JBFC is the hope in which I see not only in Tanzania, but the world. I remember peeling garlic with some of the girls; Pili, Zai, Laurencia, and Valentina. In a conversation of comparisons between America and Tanzania, Zai, one of the smartest 10 years olds I’ve ever met, asked me, “Why do you come to Tanzania?” Then it struck me. I have 43 reasons.
Even in my third year at JBFC, their beauty still strikes me. It’s not a type of beauty that can be put into words, but one you have to feel and see for yourself, and even then people often overlook it.
Guest Blogger, Tamarco Davis, is a rising sophomore at the University of Missouri and graduate of Tulsa's Holland Hall High School. He is a JBFC Ambassador and has helped raise money and awareness about JBFC for several years.
