Category Africa

Jul 24 2012

Boren Scholarship: The Adventure Begins…

In June of 2011, when I first looked into The Boren Awards Scholarship Program, I thought the program far too competitive for me, and quickly resigned myself to the fact that there was little to no chance I would ever qualify. However, upon discovering Boren’s 2012 African Language Initiative program for Portuguese study in Mozambique, I couldn’t resist at least applying. I began the long rigorous application process in July 2011 with very little expectation of any substantive results.   Little did I know that this seemingly hopeless whim would turn into the opportunity of a lifetime.

According to the Boren website, “Boren Scholarships provide up to $20,000 to U.S. undergraduate students to study abroad in areas of the world that are critical to U.S. interests and underrepresented in study abroad, including Africa, Asia, Central & Eastern Europe, Eurasia, Latin America, and the Middle East…Boren Scholarships are funded by the National Security Education Program (NSEP), which focuses on geographic areas, languages, and fields of study deemed critical to U.S. national security. NSEP draws on a broad definition of national security, recognizing that the scope of national security has expanded to include not only the traditional concerns of protecting and promoting American well-being, but also the challenges of global society, including sustainable development, environmental degradation, global disease and hunger, population growth and migration, and economic competitiveness.” Perhaps now the reader can see why I was intimidated by the prospects of application.

Nonetheless the application process proceeded slowly and uneventfully. I filled out all applications, interviewed with Boren representatives at my university, wrote an essay on the importance of Mozambique in US national security, participated in language proficiency interviews, gathered letters of recommendation from professors and colleagues, and submitted all parts of the application by the January 2012 deadline. Upon submission my future passed into the hands of Scott Galer, my Boren campus representative, who would write my final recommendation, and the Boren selection committee who would make the ultimate decision. I waited somewhat hopefully, but well aware of the fact that only a small percentage of the applicants get selected (about 150 out of thousands).By May 2012, I felt fairly certain I had not been selected, but then the email came. I was informed that I had been selected  would receive Boren Funding to participate in the American Councils African Language Initiative program at the Universidade Eduardo Mondlane in Maputo, Mozambique.  I was ecstatic to say the least. Through the word of one brief letter my life passions seemed to instantly become achievable in a way I had previously never let myself believe possible. I was being given the chance to travel to the country I love, to study the people I love, in the culture I love, for the country I love. (Not to mention they were picking up most the tab.)

And so began the journey from wistful applicant to Boren Scholar. I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity that has been afforded me to complete my undergraduate education in such a fulfilling manner. I am fully dedicated to making the most of this experience, and I hope that my life and accomplishments might prove someday to be a valuable return on a generous investment.

Jun 21 2012

“To stop is to die…”

“Parar é Morrer” -Avo Albertina

Some of us are fortunate enough to experience a moment, that moment in our lives when ever thing begins to seem clearer. When life and its purposes become, if only for a moment, comprehensible. The wise hold to these moments and seek to emulate the lessons learned throughout life. My moment occurred in the hen-pecked yard of a frail African grandmother.  The message she shared with me that day has come to define my life and my passions. It is my life motto. It is the reason for this blog and inspire the change I hope to be in this world.

Avo Albertina was our frail African neighbor. She was only 62, but by African standards she seemed ancient. Her black face was wrinkled with time and her deep blue eyes had seen much suffering. We passed her small vegetable stand almost daily. She meekly sold her simple goods in hopes of one day having the long sought money to free her imprisoned son. Avo Albertina was raised Catholic, but has never truly left her tribal roots. She sat on the low cement barrier near the dust strewn thoroughfare, her worn feet dangling as she smiled to everyone. She was simple. She was innocent.  I was sick and she gave me an old moldy grapefruit, insisting it would help. Miraculously it did help. I offered to pay her and she refused telling me to pay her the next day. We passed by and I offered again, but I already knew that it would be just another day in the saga of “pay me tomorrow.” She was charitable. Her excuse for postponing my payment was that she had a son in another country and if she believed that if she took care of another mother’s son, another mother would take care of hers. She needed the money.

We passed by one day and she was not in her usual spot. As we approached I began to worry. Maybe she is sick. We decided to check in to it and found her at her simple grass hut. She was running late. I saw her usual table in the corner of the yard and offered to carry it out. As I grabbed the table Avo Albertina shouted,

“Don’t touch that table!”

I was taken aback. Why won’t she let me touch her table? I just wanted to help. As I wondered to myself, she walked over to the table, and with surprising agility raised it on her head. I was shocked that her fragile frame could support its weight. I saw her canvas bag heavy with grapefruit, lemons, lettuce, eggplant, and a menagerie of other foods sitting on the other side of the yard leaning against the familiar tin gate. I quickly crossed the yard offering to carry the bag, but again I heard,

“Don’t touch that!”

She wobbled over to the gate and in a dance of ragged cloth and gray hair she maneuvered the heavy bag on top of the table on her head. Moaning a little under her load she smiled at me. I felt a bit of a fool as my young agile body stood there free of any load while her frail ancient body groaned under the weight of a wooden table and a large bag of fruit. I foolishly said the only thing that came to my mind,

“Avo Albertina you are so strong!”

Avo Albertina stopped dead in her tracks and brought her face close to mine. Her deep blue eyes pierced mine fiercely in a gaze that seemed to grasp my very heart. When she was certain she had my attention she said,

“Elder, Parar é Morrer!”

Parar é Morrer, to stop is to die! Those simple words penetrated into my soul and opened my mind. To stop is to die. This little frail African woman continued to cling to life with this simple philosophy. She kept going because if she stopped she would die as she had seen so many do. What a profound concept; physically… spiritually… mentally. Was this life’s greatest lesson? To stop is to die.

Perhaps my influence in Africa has been minimal, but its influence on me has been profound and irreversible. As my life continues and I seek to follow my heart and my passion, I will be guided by the life lessons I have learned from the African people, the greatest of which being “to stop is to die.”