One moment. A snapshot. A humbling experience. An occasion that stuck with me. One instance that gave me a purpose. Considering all of the incredible things we did in South Africa, you’d think picking just one moment like that would be difficult. Actually, one, and only one, came to mind immediately. His name is Okumu (pseudonym used to protect his identity).
We worked with a plethora of kids at the school for two weeks. All differing ages, skill-sets, and levels of interest. Many returned regularly but not necessarily on a daily basis. Okumu came most days. He was probably around the age of four, didn’t speak any English (in fact, I hardly heard him speak at all) and wasn’t too interested in actually participating in the sports games. But he came. Day after day he showed up and joined us. I took a liking to him, and I don’t think I can explain why (I’m not even sure myself). I always encouraged him in anything he felt inclined to do that day, I always checked to make sure he was in line when we went to serve lunch, and I always made sure to include him in any games with a larger group. I felt like a bit of a mom, mostly because all of these efforts seemed to go completely unnoticed. I wasn’t even sure he could separate me from any of the other ten teachers.
But on our last day I got whatever validation I had subconsciously been seeking. The moment we walked up to the field, I spotted Okumu, and he spotted me. He squinted from far away to solidify that I was the familiar face, then bolted towards me yelling “Teacher!” before plowing into me with a hug. Throughout the day he was typical Okumu, wandering back and forth between playing with the group and going off on his own, but when he was with us, he was glued to my hand. When all of us teachers had returned from lunch, I was jarred from behind as I turned around to find Okumu wrapping around my legs with another one of his energetic hugs. As we were saying our final goodbye to the kids, I was worried that – due to his lack of English – he wouldn’t understand that we were leaving and wouldn’t be coming back the next day. But while I was loading into the van he gave me the South African handshake, a tap and flick of our thumbs, then stood on the curb waving until we had driven off.
“For a while, I was struggling to grasp my purpose of being there in the township of Nomzamo. I didn’t feel like playing sports with these kids each day was doing much for them; I felt like they’d carry on just the same without me there. However, though I wanted to be useful, I didn’t want to be needed. We could only be there for a few weeks, if we were really necessary there, they’d be worse off when we left. So, where’s the balance between the two?”
The reason these few small gestures were so significant to me was because they brought my mind back to a presentation we had one evening from an entrepreneur named Nino. He had opened a gym in a township and was explaining the importance of the presence of the gym, active adults, and good role models within the townships.
For a while, I was struggling to grasp my purpose of being there in the township of Nomzamo. I didn’t feel like playing sports with these kids each day was doing much for them; I felt like they’d carry on just the same without me there. However, though I wanted to be useful, I didn’t want to be needed. We could only be there for a few weeks, if we were really necessary there, they’d be worse off when we left. So, where’s the balance between the two? I also battled with the question of why I was picked: why me? What does my sports background and experience bring to the table here? Couldn’t anyone take my place right now and it not make a difference? These were the questions I was struggling to answer.
Putting all of these pieces together, I was discovering my resolution. Part of what Nino was discussing was the absence of good role models and positive activities for the kids in the townships. Sport was used as a positive and active outlet, but the problem was that as kids turned into teenagers and then into adults, it was no longer a cool thing to do sport – those were just “kid games.” There were no older influences that were still into sports. Another problem facing the children of the townships was lack of supervision. Kids go about their days without their parents ever knowing where they are. And finally, they lack much contact with those outside of the township and therefore of different races.
Applying my influence on all of those challenges, I began to find my purpose. As scary as it may sound, I was an adult at the sports camp. More importantly, I was an adult that played and taught sports. As highly revered as all of us teachers were, it was finally cool to those kids to be an adult that played sports. The kids were able to see the perks of sticking with a sport, whatever it may be. Maybe all of that didn’t stick with the younger ones, but if nothing else, they were being watched and supervised during the day. It was a terrifying thought to me that four-year-old Okumu might otherwise be wandering around the township by himself on a daily basis. Perhaps he didn’t learn much about sport in those couple weeks, but he was safe and cared for and that gave me solace.
“Maybe I’m overstating all of this, but Nino reminded us to never undervalue the influence that a single interaction can have on someone, anyone. We never truly know what will stick with someone, what will make a difference to them that they’ll remember for years to come. . . I spent those first couple weeks searching for what my impact could be on those kids, not realizing until afterwards that they had a much larger impact on me. My purpose may have been small in the grand scheme of things, but that’s how the big picture is painted: one small piece at a time. “
Finally, this may go without saying, but the only white people in the community were members of the GVI staff. Given South Africa’s very recent history of Apartheid, you don’t really know peoples’ previous experiences and interactions with or preconceptions of white people, so it’s comforting to know that the kids are at least introduced to a positive and friendly experience with members of a different race. I, however, represent a slightly different standpoint within the community as I am biracial, or what they call “coloured,” and I wasn’t the only one within our group. Additionally, we also had a team member of Asian descent. Being able to represent a blend of races that are all one cooperative, happy, and extremely loving team gives a very encouraging view of diversity to those kids that I think was very underestimated by our ACE team.
Maybe I’m overstating all of this, but Nino reminded us to never undervalue the influence that a single interaction can have on someone, anyone. We never truly know what will stick with someone, what will make a difference to them that they’ll remember for years to come. Like my last day with Okumu, for example. I spent those first couple weeks searching for what my impact could be on those kids, not realizing until afterwards that they had a much larger impact on me. My purpose may have been small in the grand scheme of things, but that’s how the big picture is painted: one small piece at a time. So thanks ACE, for giving me the opportunity to be that piece.