The Three Most Important Rules in Life 

When I first saw him, I was scared. He quickly approached me with sporadic motions and incomprehensible words. I stepped behind Lucas to have him be a barrier between me and the large man who was running towards me. Lucas defused the situation and the man turned away. I was relieved that I didn’t interact with him directly. 
That was back in October, the first time I saw Mr. Idrisa Omar. 


Early on I observed that Idrisa sat at the same place at the market everyday. Every time I approached, he had the same reaction. He would run at me, waving cardboard and a pen in one hand and holding his pants up with the other. Always barefoot, never clean. 
I felt uncomfortable and guilty after my first few encounters with him. I decided to take a different approach the next time I saw him. I decided to be kind.
This included listening to him and taking the time to answer his questions. Thankfully for me, Idrisa speaks a little English. He frequently asks, “Where are you going?” Before I have a chance to answer, he will rattle off something about his plan for the day. Even when his English is clear, his ideas are nonsensical. 
It’s obvious that Mr. Omar suffers from mental health problems. People here use the term ‘mad’ to describe him (which is an archaic way of describing a person). There are also plenty of rumors about him.  
I have decided to ignore the labels and the rumors. I decided to treat him as I would treat anyone who greeted me on the street: with kindness. 
That’s how things changed. Instead of stopping in my tracks when I saw him, I started approaching him and extending my hand for a handshake. In return his approaches became more friendly and less aggressive.  
One day, I was getting on a motorcycle to go to town and Idrisa approached. He said he had something to give me. He acted as though it was urgent. He fished it out of the thick stack of papers he carries in his back pocket and handed it to me. The motorcycle driver took off with me on the back of the bike before I had a chance to ask Idrisa anything.  

When I next saw Idrisa I asked, “Why Big Sam?” He looked at me and grinned, “because we’re all big.” I laughed, not knowing what he meant but liking his answer nonetheless.
Mr. Omar gets hung up on things. Going to Dar es Salaam, receiving a letter, and the police are his favorite topics. He has given me “tickets” to go to Dar many times.

He has also written me letters. The words are not legible, so I ask the meaning behind them. I usually do not understand his answers. 

He has also written me letters. The words are not legible, so I ask the meaning behind them. I usually do not understand his answers. 

In my desire to be kind to another human being, I wrote Idrisa a letter in response. I simply said thank you for being nice to me.
When I gave it to him, he added it to the stack of papers and scraps that he keeps in his back pocket. He claimed he would read it while on the plane to Dar. In our reality, he is not going to Dar. In his reality, he is. I doubt he will ever read the letter. 
When I asked to take his picture, he said “No problem. No problem.” Yet, he needed time to get ready. He was so proud of this picture. Tanzanians generally do not smile in pictures so his serious expression does not surprise me, but directly after taking the picture he was grinning ear to ear.  

It is very common for a crowd to form around me when I go to the market in the village, especially when I stop to talk to Mr. Omar. My hope is never to make a spectacle of him, but instead to model treating another person with dignity. I can’t help but think Mr. Omar must be lonely with his thoughts that no one else understands. I hope that my stopping to say hi makes his day a little brighter. 
His story, from what I can gather, is dark and complicated. His past, however, is not important to me. I just know that I need to follow the three most important rules in life when I interact with him, or anyone else. 

These rules were instilled in me from early on in my life. I am thankful that my parents prioritized kindness in our household. As evidence, I have this gem to share with you: The rules of our house, when I was in kindergarten, composed by my mom and dad. 


Who is Mr. Omar in your life? Who would benefit from a smile? A hello? From a little extra kindness?  
I encourage you to follow the three most important rules in life. Be kind. Be kind. Be kind. 

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Child’s Play

There is no doubt that the quality of life of children in the United States is higher than that of children in Tanzania. However, I want to highlight one way that children in Tanzania have it better than children in the United States: play time.

In the US we talk about nature deficit disorder and read books like Last Child in the Woods. We struggle with regulating screen time, starting as young as infancy. We implement so many rules that it may actually impair the development of decisions making skills and risk tolerance in our children.  

Children here play. They play outside. They play together. They play without supervision.  


In the United States we call them maker spaces or fab labs, here it’s just life. Children are innovative. They are problem solvers. They are resourceful.


Children here are responsible. They take care of each other. They take care of their younger siblings, friends, and neighbors.  

Despite the lack of toys, children here are never bored. They play for hours on end with each other, inventing their own games with found objects.

To respect their privacy, I have not taken pictures of children playing in the nearby streams. In a culture that is very modest and reserved, children delight in playing naked in the water. They wash themselves and splash water on each other, laughing with glee the entire time.

Football (soccer) is king here. The Tanzanian teams are Simba and Yanga. However, most adult men (and therefore their children) have favorite international teams. Manchester United, Madrid, Barcelona, to name a few. Boys of all ages play soccer with make shift goal posts and balls made of plastic bags tied with pieces of cloth.

Soccer is king for boys, but netball reigns as queen for the girls. I think it’s like a combination of basketball and ultimate frisbee. Not all of the girls play, but the ones who do are fierce competitors.

Children also play traditional African games, crafting their own “boards” and playing pieces.  

And games like jacks. 

They play with homemade dolls.

And other homemade creations. 


And my favorite 


These children are disadvantaged in so many ways, but they sure know how to play! 

Girls.  Period. 

It is time to talk about menstrual hygiene. 
Did you know…. 

That’s a lot of girls missing a lot of school. And that’s a problem.

The link between menstruation and education is explained very well in the following infographic from her turn. Tanzania is not represented, but neighboring Kenya is. I expect that Tanzania would score lower than Kenya in all regards as it is less developed. Take some time to read the fine print. 

What does this information mean for girls in rural Tanzania? The implications are huge. I don’t have statistics but I do have anecdotes.

I know that few, if any, regional schools meet the World Health Organization’s standards of sanitation as it relates to student to toilet ratio. That means that girls lack the desired privacy and necessary cleanliness to manage their periods comfortably and safely. 

I do not know of a single school in this region that has a hand washing facility. In my time here I have noticed that it is not common practice to wash one’s hands after using the bathroom. This concerns me.

I know that there are more boys enrolled in rural secondary schools in western Tanzania than there are girls. I am confident that there are many factors that contribute to this for example, girls do more housework so parents are inclined to keep them at home to work around the house and care for younger siblings. Also, culturally boys’ education is valued more than girls’. Add in the fact that schools lack the necessary facilities for girls to manage their periods and of course there are fewer girls in school. 

I know that the girls who attended Project Wezesha’s December study camp asked us to purchase period pads for them. We did so willingly, and they all took them regardless as to if they needed them at that time or not. Pads were treated as a luxury item.

I asked the only female teacher at Amahoro if she has noticed if any of our female students miss school once a month. She said she has not noticed such a pattern. I’m skeptical of relying solely on her observations as the class sizes are so large I’m not sure the most sophisticated attendance systems would catch patterns of absenteeism. And trust me, our attendance systems are not reliable. I proceeded to ask the female teacher how our students manage their periods while at school. She explained that most of the girls have one rag that they use for their entire period, thus they wouldn’t ‘need’ to change it while at school. Now, I’m unclear as to what the ‘rags’ are like or how they are cleaned, but it’s safe to say that it is not very hygienic.

What can be done about this? Who’s problem is it to solve? Who is responsible? Who is impacted? Who suffers the most? Who has the most agency to create change? 
This article When the Menstrual Cycle Becomes a Question of Human Rights explains how this topic relates to the Sustainable Development Goals.  It emphasizes that it’s a global problem that needs global solutions. 

The number of complex problems in rural Africa seems infinite. In my time here I faced the moral dilemma of prioritizing which issues to address: poverty, hunger, sexism, violence, health literacy, clean drinking water, and menstrual hygiene management to name a few.  

My fundraising efforts and your donations to build addition latrines at Amahoro Secondary School addressed this topic. Upon the completion of the toilets, girls will have sufficient space and privacy to manage their periods at school. It is hard to wrap my head around the fact that having enough toilets at school directly supports their education, but it’s true. 

The idea of menstrual hygiene impacts the girls here, but I’ve also had to consider it for myself. 

As I approached my departure date for Africa I made an appointment with my gynecologist. I wanted to consult with her about my options of managing my period while living in rural Tanzania. I needed a solution that wouldn’t create waste, as I knew there would not be a way to dispose of it. She suggested a menstrual cup but admitted that she had never used one.  

What’s a menstrual cup? “A menstrual cup is a feminine hygiene product that is inserted into the vagina during menstruation. Its purpose is to prevent menstrual fluid from leaking onto clothes.” Wikipedia
I started asking my girlfriends. Who had tried them? Who used them regularly? What brand did they recommend? What suggestions did they have about starting to use one?  
It was startling to acknowledge that as an educated, independent feminist in my 30s, I felt uncomfortable bringing up the subject.  
I was equally shocked by how many of my friends had the similar questions and also had never used a menstrual cup. It was eye opening to revisit the conversations we had as girls in our early teens with limited experience and a small vocabulary now as adults who have dealt with menstruation for over half of our lives.   
I decided I would have to try it for myself as my interviews with friends provided very little information. So, I bought a Diva Cup. 

There are a lot of reasons why a menstrual cup fit my needs. First: I did not want to create waste. Even if I could dispose of tampons the way other waste is dealt with (dig a huge hole and fill it with waste), I did not want to add to the environmental damages caused by poor waste management in a poor country. 

As I switched to use the Diva cup, I quickly realized another benefit. I’m saving money. 

There’s also the practical side of being in sub-Saharan Africa. Days can be unpredictable. Transportation is unreliable. Physical activity is unplanned. Running water is unheard of. Toilets are unavailable.  
Therefore, having period protection that can last for a long time and be comfortable during any activity is a relief. 

The Diva cup should be removed, emptied, cleaned, and reinserted every 12 hours. I gave myself time to practice using the Diva cup. I figured getting used to it in the comfort of my own home, with running water, and antibacterial soap would be better than using it in rural Africa for the first time.  
I am glad I did. It took me three cycles to be 100% comfortable using it. I am sure others would have a different learning curve, but I suggest giving it a chance for three cycles before committing to it 100% or giving up on it. Also, FYI the Diva Cup website has resources including directions.  


If you menstruate, and don’t already use one, I recommend that you try a menstrual cup. If I can use one in rural Tanzania without running water, you can try one at home! 
That’s for those of us who are lucky enough to financially afford period management products. As explained earlier, that is not an option for girls and women in rural Africa. 
I don’t have the solutions but I invite you to join the conversation about girls’ and women’s health, rights, and education. This is a hot topic in the US now given the current administration and it continues to be a pressing issue in developing countries. Let’s speak up. Let’s donate to causes the help girls. (Check out these ideas: 10 Organizations That Provide Menstrual Products For People Who Need Them & How You Can Help) Let’s volunteer. Let’s create solutions. Let’s vote. Let’s be the change in the world that we want to see.  

Gombe Stream National Park

I went to Gombe Stream National Park with my friends to celebrate my 34th birthday.


Here I am with Jane and baby Catherine.


Lucas, Asha, and Rachel on the passenger boat to Gombe.

We took the lake taxi from Kigoma 26 km north to the national park.  The boat serves as the only mode of transportation to reach remote villages on the shore of Lake Tanganyika.  

Of the boat full of passengers, we were the only ones to disembark at Gombe.  We arrived at Kasekela and were greeted by a friendly baboon who continued to watch our boat make its journey further north. 


My desire to go to Gombe was two fold.  The obvious reason was to see Dr. Jane Goodall’s famous chimpanzees.  The second was because I live with Jane and her husband Ashahadu.  But really, I live with Jane because Ashahadu is almost always at work.  He is a researcher in Gombe. He works there for weeks if not months at a time before coming home for a night or two.  It was really meaningful to me to get to know that part of his life.   

This is his home in Gombe.  The poor housing accommodations for the researchers is evidence that scientists are under appreciated in Tanzania.  He is a researcher for the Jane Goodall Institute and contributes to the body of knowledge about chimpanzee behavior that Dr. Goodall started.  He works so hard and deserves so much more! 


Ashahadu was happy to host us but it was Jane who went fast to work to cook a hot meal for all of us as we arrived hungry. Women here work non-stop.  This topic was discussed as we arrived on International Women’s Day.  One of the Tanzanian men asked me why there is not International Men’s Day.  Participating in that conversation was perhaps the most impactful thing I’ve ever done to celebrate the important day.

(Baby Catherine learned how to crawl this week! I’ve never lived with a baby before and it is incredible to see her development. Here Jane is holding her tightly so she can’t escape and get into our food.). 

After lunch, Asha and I went swimming.   Swimming in a fresh water lake that feels as big as the ocean and is a comfortable temperature is perhaps one of my favorite things to do.  


The evening ended with a beautiful sunset as seen from my tent.


The morning of my birthday we met our guide and took off to find the chimps.  We were still in employee village when we saw baboons.   No one else seemed as impressed by them as I was so I took a quick picture and carried on. 

Upon entering the forest, the humidity increased.  Our pace was fast, our footing uneven, and our target was on the move. 


Hiking in a national park with friends felt so good.  It was refreshing to be in nature and have a short break from village life.  


Here we are: (left to right) Asha, Lucas, me, Ashahadu, and Jane. 

With the help of the researchers and chimp trackers our guide navigated the forest and led us successfully to a group of chimps.  

There are three chimp troops in Gombe.  We observed five chimps from the central troop, which is the troop that is must habitiualized to humans. 


There are a couple of rules to know about viewing the chimps:  Children under the age of 15 are not permitted in the forest per park safety protocol.  Guests must wear face masks to prevent spreading disease to the primates.  While observing the chimps, groups cannot exceed five people.  Viewing is to occur at as distance of 10 meters or more from the chimps.  

So, there we were.  Watching these remarkable creatures. 

They are much harder to photograph than I expected. Between the desisity of the forest and their quick movement it was practically impossible to get a “good” picture. 


(Photo credit: Lucas Lameck) 

The experience of watching the chimpanzees was powerful.  I believe we have a lot to learn from our animal friends.    I suppose that’s why Dr. Goodall dedicated her life to them. 

As a young child I remember being fascinated by Dr. Jane Goodall and her work.  As I reflect on it now, I am grateful to have intelligent female role models.  

The experience itself was incredible, however, apart from talking directly to Ashahadu about his observations I did not walk away with a better understand of the animals or their ecosystem.   I have a lot of recommendations for Tanzania in general, but my recommendation to Gombe is focus on environmental education and conservation when talking with tourists.    

After our hour viewing session expired, we commenced our walk to Kakombe Waterfall. 

I had a blast playing in the water with Lucas and Asha as Jane and Ashahadu looked on like proud parents (Even though I’m the oldest of the group.) 

With my birthday comes many reflections and endless gratitude.   Thank you for the birthday wishes.   Thank you for the hikes in other national parks.   Thank you for supporting me on this adventure. 

As for my reflections, my mom recently sent this to me and it captures the essence of my own thoughts.  


Here’s to 34! 

Activists and Advocates 

Awhile back I started tutoring two Form 4 students. At first, I was reluctant to work with them.

I felt protective of my time. I have also felt that everyone wants something from me: money, food, and/or to teach them English. I thought to myself, “Mrisho and Ally are not Project Wezesha students. So, why should I work with them?”

Ultimately I agreed to work with them once a week, if for no other reason than they were so damn persistent. I thought if I offered once a week they would accept the offer and fail to follow through thus saving my time.

Low and behold, they show up at my house every Tuesday at exactly 5 pm ready to work.
(Mrisho, left Ally, right)

I quickly went from dreading this extra “work” to looking forward to it. These two young men are full of ambition, hope, and grit.

My time tutoring them is spent on reading and writing English. They have been most interested in reading my guide book about Tanzania. (Place-based education would thrive here.)

In particular, they love reading about the nearest town and neighboring villages.


For writing, they have started a pen pal exchange with a former student of mine who is in high school at Journeys School.


To develop their interpersonal language skills, we spend time in conversation. I sometimes use story cubes to encourage their creativity, a trait that is undervalued in the Tanzanian education system.



Our dialogues help their pronunciation and provide them with an authentic way to use English. Past tense is still a challenge for them, but otherwise our conversation flow rather smoothly.
It is during these conversations that they tutor me. They have been my window into the life of students at Amahoro. They have shared with me the hardships students face.
I have seen corporal punishment. I have talked talked to headmasters who believe in it. I have intervened with teachers who are using it. I have researched it and read a variety of resources about it. Until talking with these two, the student perspective was absent in my growing knowledge of corporal punishment in Tanzania.
These two students have trusted me with their stories of being on the receiving end of corporal punishment. I am honored that they see me as a safe adult with whom they can talk.
In addition to expressing my sympathy to them, I have shared my beliefs with them. Corporal punishment is wrong. It is a violation of human rights. All students have the right to feel and be safe at school.

I’ve asked them what they do when they or a classmate is punished. They have responded that they don’t do anything because then they would just be punished more.
I’ve asked them what changes they want to see at school. I’ve talked to them about what activists are and the role of advocates. I’ve expressed that I want headmasters/teachers/school/culture to change so that adults are held accountable for protecting children and never beat a child.
They agree with me, but they feel stuck in a system they can’t change.


Mrisho and Ally are part of the student government. There are part of the 9 students who run the school. (7 boys, 2 girls). Like clockwork, the student leaders run everything regardless as to if teachers are present or not. They facilitate morning cleanliness, (hands to work) assembly, morning student speeches, announcements and attendance.
Mrisho and Ally told me that a teacher recently beat a Form 4 student in class to punish him for not completing his work. They told me the name of the teacher and I asked who was punished. They looked at each other and their friends. They confessed several member of student government, including them, had been punished (beaten) for not completing an assignment.
Upon being beaten, the head boy (that’s his actual title) who is the leader of student government wrote a letter on behalf of the other leaders and addressed it to the headmaster. It stated that as a result of being punished (beaten) that they are all resigning from their leadership positions.

My heart burst with pride as they told me this! Student activists! A revolutionary start to change!
Then they told me they were in trouble for writing the headmaster. Their consequence for expressing their plan to resign was to slash the grass in the far field. (By slashing grass, I mean using a machete type tool to cut the grass by manually.)

It was at this point that I met with all of the student leadership members. I had something important to teach them. A new word: bullshit.

Once again, I intervened. I went against the headmaster, second master, and disciplinary committee.

I told the students how proud I am of them. That I support them and oppose the teachers and headmasters. I told them not to slash the field. If the field needs to be slashed, I will do it. They will not do it as a punishment for speaking up and taking a stand for what they believe is right: human rights.
The student government expressed their gratitude and their fear. They appreciated my intervention but fear the retaliation of the headmaster and teachers. I can’t argue against that. I expressed that it is my responsibility as an adult to protect them, and that I will do everything in my power to do so.

Directly after talking to the students, I went to the headmaster’s office where I met with the headmaster, second master, and discipline committee chair.

Their truth was different than what the students reported to me. The headmaster claimed he didn’t know how the students were punished by the teacher. I charged him to take responsibility. He is the headmaster. Teachers report to him. He is responsible for holding teachers accountable for what they do or don’t do. I was met with the answer, “the punishment happened behind closed doors, I don’t know what happened.”
Bullshit.
Yesterday I was the only teacher present at morning assembly. I had a Project Wezesha student translate for me as I told the entire student body an important message.

I shared with the students the tragedy that has recently occurred in the United States: another school shooting and 17 lives lost. I explained that the US government failed those students, adults failed those who lost their lives, and now students are mobilizing. Their voices are loud and clear, their message powerful and true. The youth are resisting. They are speaking up and demanding to be safe.
I told these Tanzanian students that it is always right to stand up for human rights. That I encourage them to do so. That I understand that there are reasons not to stand up as possible, if not, probably backlash may occur in this setting. I told them that it is up to them to decide for themselves if it is worth the risk to stand up for human rights but as for me, I will always stand up for their rights.
I’m not sure how many students understood my message, but I had to say it.
As for the student leaders, they are still in their positions and will hold them until elections are held. They did not slash the grass (nor did I) and they received no additional consequences.

To ensure students’ (temporary) safety, I took all of the sticks used for hitting children and threw them into the hill side. (I have done this many times before, unfortunately it is very easy to replace sticks.). I threw them out in sight of the majority of the 500 students at Amahoro. I want them to know that I am never going to hurt them. They are safe with me. I want them to know that I am trying to make their school safer for them.
I believe they got the message. They cheered when they saw my silent, but powerful action.
I also now have evidence that they know I am their advocate.
Yesterday in class a student interrupted me. “Madame, Stick.” And they all pointed to the room next door. My class of 60+ students became silent so that I could hear the undeniable sound of angry contact against fabric covering human flesh.
I left my class and entered the room next door. The image was disturbing. The room was silent, except for the teacher’s foot steps. All of the students had their heads down. The teacher was going down the row hitting each student, not with a stick, but with his hand. Of course I intervened.
His explanation was enlightening to me. He said knew I didn’t want him to use a stick to hit students but that he still needed to punish the students for their bad behavior so he was hitting them instead.
Perhaps this is progress. I admit, from the one hit I saw it was less physically forceful than the hits I have seen with a stick.
It also made me realize that although the students have received my message, the teachers have not understood it. My desire to have teachers stop using corporal punishment is not about my personal preference. It is about human rights. He didn’t use a stick because he knew I didn’t like it, not because he understood the negative impacts on the student. I have my work cut out for me to address his misconceptions.
In my presence, he lectured the students about their behavior. In closing he addressed me and said he has understood.
I returned to my class, and without missing a beat, picked up exactly where I left off. My students’ behavior was exceptional for the remainder of the class. Thus providing further evidence that building rapport with students by earning their trust improves classroom management.
I will continue to tutor Mrisho and Ally. I will continue to advocate for students’ safety.
I will continue to throw sticks down the hillside.
I will continue to intervene during corporal punishment incidents.
I will continue to work with the teachers to challenge their ideas of punishments.
I will continue to model and recommend alternatives to corporal punishment.
I will continue to fight for human rights.
I expect you to do the same.

Positive Discipline aka Stop Corporal Punishment

Tomorrow I will facilitate the first of two academic forums put on by Project Wezesha.   The first is for headmasters and Department Of Education staff, the second will be for secondary school teachers. 

I intend to model best practices during the workshop and only use resources that local educators can access: paper, pens, chalk. 

The first 35 participants to register will receive $15,000 shillings.  It is standard practice here for educators to be paid for their time and transportation costs if they attend a professional development.  Participants will also be served a meal of rice and beans. 

I want to cover a lot of information with the school leaders.  The learning targets will be displayed on a poster board in the classroom as participants enter. 

I will use simple, but effective, teaching techniques with the headmasters as my students.   

I will check for understanding.

I will empower all attendees to participate.

I will access their prior knowledge and learn about their misconceptions. 

The first part will focus on classroom observations.  Credit for this goes to Nate McClennen former Head of School at Journeys School of the Teton Science School.  Under Nate’s leadership and guidance I benefited from this observation process as a classroom teacher.  As my role evolved, I also used this process as an administrator. 

Participants will cycle back to the “Learned” section of the KWL to think about how to apply observations at their school. 

After a break, we will return for the second half.  By then, I hope to have established the school leaders’ trust and respect.   This part of not going to be easy.  I know I’m going into a room of professionals who do not agree with me.  Yet, I am going in with compassion for them and their students and with a desire to spark change.  I hope to stop corporal punishment in their schools. 

If it were not for this amazing resource, I would be lost as to how to approach this topic in a country where corporal punishment is not only legal, but it is endorsed by the president.  It is practiced widely and culturally accepted. 

I hope to start a dialogue, to cause people to reflect, to deconstruct the belief that corporal punishment is the only way for children to learn, and to provide data that details the consequences of corporal punishment.  I plan to provide alternative ways to discipline and to equip attendees with resources. 

Change will not happen overnight.  But change will happen. I will be a part of it.  I will help stop school corporal punishment in Tanzania. 

Take a seat. Give a seat. 

I recently walked into the Form 1 classroom at Amahoro Secondary School. I’ve been teaching at the school since October, yet I continue to be shocked when I see an entire classroom without desks. Amahoro Secondary School is a young government school in western Tanzania that lacks the necessary funds to address the needs of its learners.  

Imagine a classroom of 60 students without desks or chairs. It’s hard to visualize, isn’t it? It’s harder yet for me to see it. Still the hardest part is for the students. These students have made it to secondary school against all odds only to find that there are no tables or chairs for them to use.  


So, yes it’s hard for me to see but it is impossible for me to ignore. That’s why I am writing you.    


The solution is simple: provide tables and chairs for students at Amahoro Secondary School. Join me to become the solution.   


The impacts are significant. We will: 

* Improve the physical condition of a student so that he/she can focus on instruction instead of his/her discomfort

* Boost a student’s academic performance by elevating the quality of his/her written work because he/she will have a desk upon which to write 

* Create a more peaceful classroom setting where students no longer argue over who sits where because all students will have a chair. 

* Inspire a student to do professional quality work by providing him/her with a professional learning station 

My requests are simple.    
First, will you donate $35 to pay for one table and one chair for a student at Amahoro Secondary School? Your donation will directly impact a student’s life and improve his/her learning environment. It will also help students in the years to come.            
Donate here: https://www.globalgiving.org/projects/provide-a-desk-and-chair-to-a-student-in-tanzania/    
Second, will you please ask one other person to donate $35? Asking another person to donate may feel awkward or uncomfortable, but I bet that it is more comfortable than sitting on a brick for 7 hours a day. 


Third, will you please ask the other person to continue the chain of positive impact by asking yet another person to donate $35 to fund a learning station for a secondary school student.
Do you get the idea? I hope to inspire a chain of philanthropy. You can join the chain. You can inspire a chain of philanthropy. Your friends/relatives/coworkers/neighbors can join the chain. They can inspire a chain of philanthropy. Individually, you will impact a single student. Collectively, we will impact an entire school. 
Thank you for donation and for inviting others to become the solution.
Sincerely,

Kate