We
were
learning
first-hand
that
regular
people
in
every
country
of
the
world
are
overwhelmingly
kind
and
generous.During the course of our travels around the world, we became involved in trying to help three different communities. This is the story of these, some of our most precious adventures.
Shortcut to the Boniface and Hamisi Project (Africa) page
Shortcut to the Friends of the National Parks (Indonesia) page
The
third
of
our
projects
began
in
July
of
2000,
in
a
small
rural
town
called
Kilifi,
Kenya.
By
the
time
we
arrived
in
Kenya,
we
were
staggering
under
a
burden
of
generosity
that
had
been
freely
given
to
us
in
islands
and
villages
all
around
the
world.
We
were
learning
first-hand
that
regular
people
in
every
country
of
the
world
are
overwhelmingly
kind
and
generous.
We alighted from our dinghy one day at a beach. Standing there were two young men, Boniface, age 16, and Hamisi, 18. They held in their hands a tattered plastic bag, containing a handful of precious fossilized shark teeth, 20 million years old.We didn’t want to buy the fossils, but we did hire the two young men to take us fossil hunting. The next day, as they showed us how to find the fossils, we got to know them better. Neither of them was going to school. Hamisi hadn’t gone past grade eight, and Boniface had just been kicked out of grade nine because his family couldn’t afford to pay the school fees. We learned that it cost about $500 a year to send Boniface to high school. His father, a hotel steward, earned $60 a month. He had 17 children. No wonder Boniface couldn’t continue his education!
The next day the boys invited us to visit them in their villages. We inspected their homes, which were made from mangrove poles, mud and thatch, just as rural homes are, all over Africa. No electricity, no running water, dirt floors, the simplest kind of home imaginable.
Hamisi’s
oldest
brother
turned
out
to
be
the
local
medicine
man.
Herbert
and
I
watched
him
conduct
a
ceremony,
which
included
sacrificing
a
chicken.
Then,
a
little
bewildered
and
surprised
over
what
we
had
witnessed,
we
headed
over
to
Boniface’s
village.
Boniface’s village was just like Hamisi’s – the same dusty mud huts, the same collection of raggedy children. We sat down in a circle of Boniface’s many brothers (the women were all away working in the fields – Boniface’s family, like most others, are subsistence farmers with a small plot of land on which the women grow maize, a kind of corn.) Conscious that probably no one in Boniface’s family would have much education, I remember deliberately simplifying my vocabulary to make sure they all understood me.
Then came a voice from the back of the group. It belonged to Boniface’s oldest brother, Andrew.
“I think it’s time we stakeholders understood,” he said, “that education is anathema to the continuation of poverty in Africa.”
What? Anathema? What was a man with a vocabulary like that doing sitting in front of a mud hut? We had to find out more about this surprising young man.
We learned that Andrew, who was 32, had received the best marks in his elementary school (a school without walls or roof, under a great baobab tree) and thus had won a scholarship from the YMCA to attend high school. Then, achieving excellent marks in high school, he had won another scholarship to attend college. That’s how he had ended up with a university-level vocabulary, and a mind to match.
After two years of college, Andrew had succeeded in getting a well-paying job in a hotel, earning about $200 a month. But he wasn’t using his salary to buy a TV, or better clothes for his kids. He still lived in a mud hut without electricity or running water. He was putting his funds towards something infinitely more important – education for his younger brothers. Out of his small salary, he was attempting to pay the $500 a year school fees for each of his younger siblings. He understood that there was no hope for his family, for his country, for his continent, without education. So he was putting all his resources into providing something for his own family that we in North America took for granted – a simple high school education. “Andrew is,” another of his brothers, Mark, told us, “a hero.” Mark was right. (Click here to read Andrew's story, in his own words.)
Andrew had managed to put three of his younger brothers through high school, but our young friend Boniface, the fourth in line, was out of luck. Andrew’s money had run out. And that is why we had met this boy selling shark teeth in the hot African sun.
For months before that, Herbert and I had been wrestling with the problems of Africa. Many a night we discussed the things we had seen at the supper table, and were unable to come up with solutions. Many a time we had cried tears of despair.
Andrew
Thuva
was
a
turning
point
for
us,
in
our
journey
and
in
our
lives.
For
the
first
time,
we
understood
–
not
with
our
minds,
but
with
our
hearts
and
souls
–
that
Andrew
and
his
family
were
not
‘them’,
but
‘us’.
We
realized
that
had
Andrew
been
born
in
Canada,
he
might
be
the
finance
minister.
That
if
we
had
been
born
in
Andrew’s
place,
with
all
the
intelligence
and
ambition
and
hard
work
in
the
world,
we
would
still
be
sitting,
as
Andrew
was,
in
front
of
a
mud
hut.
That
unless
we
offered
to
help,
we
would
have
somehow
failed
our
test
as
human
beings.
We knew we couldn’t solve Africa’s problems, but now we realized that we could solve Boniface’s problems. Even if we couldn’t change the world, we could change Boniface’s world. And so we told Andrew and Boniface that we would take over paying Boniface’s school fees. It was a small thing, no more than anyone in our position might do.
Then
the
most
wonderful
thing
happened.
Other
people
back
at
home,
strangers,
reading
about
Boniface
and
Hamisi
and
Andrew,
also
sent
in
money
to
help.
Soon
we
had
enough
money
to
do
other
good
things
for
these
people
–
who
might
have
been
us,
who
were
us.
All
we
did
was
plink
one
little
pebble
down
a
mountainside,
but
suddenly
it
was
turning
into
an
avalanche.
We had earlier set Hamisi up in a jewellery-making business, turning his fossils into beautiful necklaces and earrings. Now, with the new donations, we were able to buy him a milk cow, to provide much-needed income for his family. Over the next few weeks, we were able to send one of Boniface’s brothers, Mark, to a post-secondary training course to become a hair stylist. And we were able to pay the more than $1000 cost of life-saving surgery for Boniface’s father, who had a large and growing tumour.
So when we finally left Kenya, our hearts were a little lighter. Perhaps that’s because we left a small piece of us behind in some mud hut somewhere along the way.
A
year
later,
we
arrived
back
in
Canada.
To
our
surprise,
3000
people
were
there
to
welcome
us
home.
That
day,
they
contributed
$11,000
for
the
Friends
of
the
National
Parks
in
Indonesia,
and
the
Boniface
and
Hamisi
Educational
Fund
in
Kenya,
which
had
become
so
important
to
us,
and
a
focal
point
of
our
journey.
We’re
happy
to
let
you
know
that
this
year,
14
Kenyan
children
will
be
attending
high
school,
their
school
fees
paid
thanks
to
the
generosity
of
people
half
a
world
away.
The
first
was
a
tiny
island
in
the
South
Pacific,
Palmerston
Island,
part
of
the
Cook
Islands
group.
The
53
people
who
called
the
island
their
home
treated
us
like
kings
–
inviting
us
to
dinner
at
their
homes
every
night,
washing
our
laundry,
baking
our
bread,
even
bringing
a
take-out
meal
to
our
boat
one
night
when
we
couldn’t
come
ashore!
Very
special
to
us
was
a
young
woman
named
Metua,
who
spent
a
lot
of
time
with
our
youngest
son,
Christopher.
Several
months
after
leaving
Palmerston,
six-year-old
Christopher
said
to
me:
“Mom,
at
least
I
know
that
if
you
and
Dad
die,
I
could
always
go
back
to
Palmerston.
Metua
would
take
care
of
me.
So
when
we
discovered
that
the
ten
children
on
the
tiny
island
had
a
schoolhouse
but
no
teacher,
we
asked
the
Ottawa
Citizen
whether
we
might
write
about
the
islanders’
plight.
Within
a
few
days,
17
Canadian
teachers
applied
for
the
job,
and
a
few
months
later
a
teacher
from
Ottawa
arrived
in
Palmerston
to
teach
the
island’s
children.
This
was
our
first
attempt
to
give
something
back,
in
return
for
all
the
hospitality
we
were
receiving
everywhere
we
went.
About
a
year
later,
in
September
of
1999,
we
met
a
young
veterinarian
from
Bali
working
in
the
jungles
of
Borneo,
in
the
Indonesian
province
of
Kalimantan.
By
then
we
had
already
lost
our
hearts
to
that
place,
after
having
close
encounters
with
wonderful
endangered
animals
such
as
orangutans
and
gibbons.
Dr.
Gede
was
working
for
a
small,
non-profit
foundation,
the
Friends
of
the
National
Parks Foundation,
to
protect
these
precious
animals
from
extinction,
and
from
destruction
by
illegal
loggers
who
were
pillaging
the
protected
forest
of
this
world-renowned
national
park.
I
suggested
to
Dr.
Gede
that
if
I
wrote
about
his
work,
readers
back
in
North
America
might
want
to
support
him.
If
I
could
raise
some
money,
I
asked,
what
would
he
use
it
for?
“Food” was his answer.
“Food for the animals?”
“No,” he answered, “food for me and the other volunteers. There isn’t enough food for us to eat at the end of the day. We don’t have even enough rice.”
His answer stunned us. Here was a young man, intelligent, university-educated, who was working for basically nothing in dangerous, primitive conditions. He did so out of noble motives, love for these endangered animals. He was making a great personal sacrifice on behalf of all of mankind, because we all bear part of the responsibility for the destruction of habitat that leads to the extinction of animals in the wild. Here was a man whose country was dissolving in chaos, where corruption ran rampant, but who was the nucleus of something tremendously precious and important. We simply had to help. We did raise funds for him then, and we continue to do so to this day.
And so, our magical voyage continues. . .
If you’d like to be a part of the true journey of Northern Magic, read on!
Click here for more information on the Boniface and Hamisi Educational Fund, in Kenya.
We hope you’ll join us in helping make the world a better place.