Rain-like, fiercely dancing raindrops, that are scourging my face, a night at an old harbor, surrounded by friendly homeless people, locals, throwing their fists towards each other’s faces because of me. Technically I have many stories to share. But I won’t. Instead I wanna explain an important decision and give you the chance of aN appropriate last goodbye. A chance, I did not always have.
But first, let me tell you about 2 special man. Ivor and Festo. 2 men from different countries. 2 men not knowing about each other’s existence. 2 men, whose social commitment touched me deeply. A common dedication that made me see mine and our future in an optimistic way
Ivor from Livingstone, Zambia, is celebrating his 30th birthday during my stay. He spent his youth in a copper mine, a job he was born into. 3 years ago, he decided to quit this job and make the world a better place. He and his girlfriend started working in a school shortly after. A school that taught children for free, until the government had decided to take over. “If their parents don’t have money, they can pay with resources or goods, that’s fair”, was their statement. Nowadays, Ivor and Sali live in a little apartment in an urban fringe and teach a group of approximately 15 children, every morning. Without Ivor and Sali, these between 5 and 14 years old children would never have a chance of receiving education. I ask the oldest girl about her dreams. She wants to become a doctor.
On Ivor’s birthday we end up sitting in a local bar. One of the children’s mothers takes a seat next to me, grasps occasionally after my beer bottle and tries to convince me of going home with her. Instead of sending her kids to school, she drowns her pain and loneliness in alcohol, every day, explains Ivor. “My kids don’t need education”. A few days later, after arriving in Tanzania, Ivor texted me. Their landlord started complaining about them, teaching kids in his house. Right now, the couple is searching for a new classroom.
“Don’t worry Daniel, we will find something”, he comforts me. “Have you ever regret your decision to quit a well paid job and live unpaid?” I asked Ivor one night, while we were sitting in front of his house. Ivor survives and keeps his work going because of donations and volunteers. He smiled and answered convinced: “No“. An answer I understood just too well, while looking in these children’s sparkling eyes.
Festo, a 38 years old man, living with his family in Mbeya, Tanzania, commits his life to a organization called Elimisha. Its goal is to help a remote village inhabited by thousands of people. They help by providing education, knowledge and goods. Unfortunately, I was not able to visit the village myself, because I am slowly running out of time, but the pictures Festo showed me, told their own story. Smiling people, holding clothes that people donated, a little well, the organization built and a cozy classroom, in which children also enjoy education for free.
How Festo feeds his family? Because his work in the organization doesn’t get paid at all, he edits videos as a little side job. He also films documentaries and sells them to news channels. I helped him to edit one of these. Thanks to an old hobby, I can explained some easy tricks to make the final video look way more professional. His current documentation is about a school, that does not have no supply of water.
Pretty exactly 1 year ago I started writing this blog. I shared my experiences, my impressions and my feelings. My purpose? I wanted to change something. I wanted to tell people, how fantastic humans can be, no matter where they’re from. And I can only repeat myself. The world is not nearly as bad as people think it is. Our world is full of beauty and people, that gave me ‘faith in humanity’.
I wanna point out that I’d gladly receive donations for Ivor and Festo. Doesn’t matter if it’s money or clothes or something else. Donations, that enable these guys to keep on doing what they are. Obviously I’ll stay in touch with them and will keep you updated about their progress. How to donate? Just get in touch with me on Facebook, Instagram or E-Mail: firstname.lastname@example.org – and we will figure something out.
Thank you not only on behalf of them. Thank you, also on behalf of me. Thank you for following me on this journey so far. I hope I could keep the promises I gave in my first blog post. Stories about sorrow, love and happiness. Stories that moved to tears and stories that made laugh oneself to tears. Stories about generosity, trust, hospitality and hope. The beginning of my future life.
By now, you can probably already tell. This is my last blog post. I reached a point on which writing these blog posts consumed a lot of time. My own requirement was to publish stories once a week, but I can’t keep up with it. Especially while traveling in third world countries, where internet is a luxury good. Sometimes, writing even felt like a duty. I always said, if it ever becomes a job for me, I’m gonna put an end to it. And that’s what happened. Instead, I’m gonna start working on another dream. I wanna publish a book. So don’t worry – one day you can catch up with all upcoming stories, while laying on a comfy chair, reading about my journey in the old fashioned way. Printed on paper. Until then, I’ll give updates on Facebook more frequently and share all my pictures on Instagram. If you’re not a fan of these modern medias, make sure to subscribe to my newsletter. I will occasionally send emails with a brief update, the release date of my book and I will obviously invite you to my beach bar.
Another goodbye. My last goodbye. For now. I’m gonna fly back on April, 18th to have some time for my private life. If all follows my current plan, I’m gonna hit the road again early July. Destination: Mongolia. (Hitch hiking from Germany). My last destination before my final chapter starts. Canada to Chile.
Take care of yourself, don’t watch too much TV and don’t ignore people on the side of the road.
You made me proud. I thank you. And keep your eyes open. You might see me standing on the road one day. Because you know..It’s a small world.