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Nakupenda means ‘I love you’ ... and all that that means
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By Emma Miller
CJN Teen Reporter
Dory Gannes teaches English and coaches soccer at Laurel School, where I am a sophomore.
My incredible, inspirational, motivational, and completely community-service-oriented 23-year-old teacher is also director of The Olevolos Project, a nonprofit orphanage in Tanzania, Africa, for 100-plus youngsters who have who have lost one or both parents to HIV-AIDS.
This past summer, she organized a trip for 11 Laurel High School girls, including me, to meet and work with the children in Olevolos Village and to help in the effort to build the school and orphanage.
We spent much of our time in Tanzania playing with the Olevolos children, getting to know them and their culture. We were also fortunate enough to spend a few days at Shimbwe Secondary School, half-way up Mt. Kilimanjaro, where we started a campus store, and to enjoy a fantastic two-day safari experience.
As I taught sports and simple English, I met children I will never forget. These kids, who have so little, exhibited extraordinary gratitude, kindness, consideration, and love for each other.
Although we could only communicate with a few words, I formed an incredible and meaningful bond with Jackson Makau, a 7-year-old Tanzanian boy, who is one of the sweetest, most generous children I have ever known. (Each of us formed special bonds like this with the children.)
One day, my friends and I were passing out a bag of toys and trucks we brought with us from Cleveland. Jackson helped pass out the toys to his friends. When it was Jackson’s turn to take a toy, he zipped the bag shut and put it back in my backpack. I told him he could keep the toy, but he said, “You keep,” and he hugged me. He didn’t want things; he wanted our love, care and attention and to have some fun.
Several times, I watched Jackson helping the other children. We brought oranges, bananas, and granola bars to share, but some of the kids were having trouble peeling their fruit. Jackson collected the oranges and bananas, and took them to Dory to cut and peel with her knife. After she peeled each of them, he took them, one by one, and distributed them among the others.
On our last night with the kids, we had them all over for dinner at the university where we were staying. A girl from the village who had severe mental challenges was having trouble getting her plate of food. Jackson stood up, got the food for her, sat her down in her seat, and put her fork in her hand. When she accidentally sat in the wrong place, Jackson helped her move her seat and dried the tears falling down her face.
Throughout Tanzania, we saw amazing support as the communities of children and adults, who have so little, care for each other and keep each other strong. They take nothing for granted.
At the end of that evening, Jackson wrapped his tiny arms around my waist and said, “I love you.” I told him I loved him, too, and then he said, “in Swahili, Nakupenda. Nakupenda – I love you.”
We had spent our days together coloring, drawing, running, playing soccer (“football”), tickling, giggling and playing, and learning little phrases in each other’s language.
I learned to say I love you in Swahili, but I also learned more than I could have ever imagined.
Emma Miller is the daughter of Suzanne Fisher and Steve Miller of Shaker Heights. She is a member of the Laurel speech and debate team, an editor of Laurel’s online magazine, and a performer with JCC Playmakers Youth Theatre.
To learn about the Olevolos Project, visit Project.org." target="_blank">www.TheOlevolos Project.org.
My incredible, inspirational, motivational, and completely community-service-oriented 23-year-old teacher is also director of The Olevolos Project, a nonprofit orphanage in Tanzania, Africa, for 100-plus youngsters who have who have lost one or both parents to HIV-AIDS.
This past summer, she organized a trip for 11 Laurel High School girls, including me, to meet and work with the children in Olevolos Village and to help in the effort to build the school and orphanage.
We spent much of our time in Tanzania playing with the Olevolos children, getting to know them and their culture. We were also fortunate enough to spend a few days at Shimbwe Secondary School, half-way up Mt. Kilimanjaro, where we started a campus store, and to enjoy a fantastic two-day safari experience.
As I taught sports and simple English, I met children I will never forget. These kids, who have so little, exhibited extraordinary gratitude, kindness, consideration, and love for each other.
Although we could only communicate with a few words, I formed an incredible and meaningful bond with Jackson Makau, a 7-year-old Tanzanian boy, who is one of the sweetest, most generous children I have ever known. (Each of us formed special bonds like this with the children.)
One day, my friends and I were passing out a bag of toys and trucks we brought with us from Cleveland. Jackson helped pass out the toys to his friends. When it was Jackson’s turn to take a toy, he zipped the bag shut and put it back in my backpack. I told him he could keep the toy, but he said, “You keep,” and he hugged me. He didn’t want things; he wanted our love, care and attention and to have some fun.
Several times, I watched Jackson helping the other children. We brought oranges, bananas, and granola bars to share, but some of the kids were having trouble peeling their fruit. Jackson collected the oranges and bananas, and took them to Dory to cut and peel with her knife. After she peeled each of them, he took them, one by one, and distributed them among the others.
On our last night with the kids, we had them all over for dinner at the university where we were staying. A girl from the village who had severe mental challenges was having trouble getting her plate of food. Jackson stood up, got the food for her, sat her down in her seat, and put her fork in her hand. When she accidentally sat in the wrong place, Jackson helped her move her seat and dried the tears falling down her face.
Throughout Tanzania, we saw amazing support as the communities of children and adults, who have so little, care for each other and keep each other strong. They take nothing for granted.
At the end of that evening, Jackson wrapped his tiny arms around my waist and said, “I love you.” I told him I loved him, too, and then he said, “in Swahili, Nakupenda. Nakupenda – I love you.”
We had spent our days together coloring, drawing, running, playing soccer (“football”), tickling, giggling and playing, and learning little phrases in each other’s language.
I learned to say I love you in Swahili, but I also learned more than I could have ever imagined.
Emma Miller is the daughter of Suzanne Fisher and Steve Miller of Shaker Heights. She is a member of the Laurel speech and debate team, an editor of Laurel’s online magazine, and a performer with JCC Playmakers Youth Theatre.
To learn about the Olevolos Project, visit Project.org." target="_blank">www.TheOlevolos Project.org.
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