Kujali International’s founder, Sydney Schaef, shares the story of two young women crossing paths at an orphanage in Dar-es-Salaam, Tanzania, and finding their way over twenty years of friendship.
I will never forget the day the message came through. It was a Friday morning in late spring of 2024. “Guess what???” she wrote. I had been zipping around my house, cleaning up the tornado that seems to follow me and my two littles wherever we go. “I passed my NCLEX.”
I wasn’t at all surprised. But sometimes when something that has been so long in the making finally happens, it can feel beyond belief.
Almost twenty years after meeting Irene as a young girl in Tanzania, I was one of the lucky ones to receive this incredible news. Her dream of becoming a nurse? She made it true.
It was a late afternoon in Dar-es-Salaam, Tanzania, in the fall of 2005. I had completed my classes for the day and was heading off campus for a little excursion, in search of a place to volunteer. My professor, Dr. Mutembei, offered to drive me across the city to a small orphanage center he thought might be a great place to start. We parked the car along the cinderblock wall, and walked through the large metal gates that separated a dusty residential road from the community church that was lending its space to the Hananasif Orphanage Day Center.
Eyes widened around me, and bright smiles from a dozen or so children darted my way. They had been busy playing, washing dishes, hanging clothes on the line. Then everything stopped for a moment. I smiled right back and tried on my Swahili greetings.
Not fifteen minutes later, I was deep in conversation with the Director–an energetic, bright-eyed Tanzanian man, middle-aged and of medium stature, wearing a patterned short-sleeve shirt with golden yellows and earthy browns.
It was clear that he was a philosopher at heart. A visionary. A Christian. And a critic of the orphanage as an institution. It didn’t take him long to convince me of the need for systemic change in how the needs of orphaned youth are addressed by the state. He was clear and compelling: disadvantaged children need much more than their basic needs met if they are to break the cycle of poverty into which they are born.
Before I left, I spent a little time visiting with the kids–wishing my Swahili were further along. I told Hezekia I would love to come back. And maybe there’s some way I can help?
He was not short on ideas.
And I was on the bus to the mkwajuni (“Tamarind Tree”) stop the very next day. And nearly every day thereafter, taking in more of the dream and vision: a self-sustainable boarding school that invested in the holistic care, education, and post-secondary opportunities that would help disadvantaged youth overcome the barriers in their lives, and experience the freedom to pursue and realize their dreams.
In the meantime, I got busy. What would be helpful? With input from Hezekia, his team, and the kids, I kicked off a few small projects to help in the short term: raising funds for a few sewing machines and coordinating local sewing lessons; building a small library and curating books; teaching English lessons; and of course, bringing my guitar along to sing with the youth choir at the center.
And that is how my life crossed paths with Irene.
When I left Tanzania, I knew my life had changed. This opportunity to travel, study, and experience another part of the world–it was such a remarkable gift. It occurred to me that the most disadvantaged kids in the world were the least likely to have that kind of experience. But why shouldn’t they? And how hard would that really be to make happen?
I floated the idea by Hezekia: What if we ran our own study abroad program for kids from Hananasif? I’ll figure out the logistics, I offered, and they could come to the U.S. to study. An immersive language and cultural experience. The first study abroad program of its kind, to my knowledge, dedicated to barrier-breaking for orphaned youth.
Six months later, I was back in Tanzania–along with college friends David Lipps, Melissa Reyes, and Sarah Lowe– to help record the youth choir’s first album, Twakushukuru.
And the following spring, Irene and Gustaf (another young teen from Hananasif) were boarding a flight for the U.S. to study at a small independent school in Gainesville, FL, just down the road from where David, Melissa, Sarah, and I lived.
And their experience as study abroad adventurers, just as it was for me, was life-changing.
Irene would eventually head back to Tanzania and attend the boarding school that had been launched by Hananasif and Kujali International while she was stateside. She would one day graduate from that boarding school, and go on to participate in Kujali’s Bridge Program, which provided dedicated resources and support for high school graduates as they navigated post-secondary pathways.
And eventually, she would come back to the U.S. to attend nursing school, meet her partner, marry, and have two little boys of her own.
And now she’s a nurse! Pursuing her dream of helping others while building a safe and happy life for her children. I couldn’t be more thrilled for her, and more honored to have been alongside for the journey. I’m amazed by the winding road we’ve been on, the ways in which one thing has kept leading to another, and the joyful moments along the way that have kept our hearts full and hands steady. There are few people I admire more than Irene for the courage, resilience, and light-heartedness she’s shown through it all.
We both laugh and cherish that we have each been in each other’s lives longer than most anyone else we know. We say we’re family now. Chosen family. Both working moms. Both totally delighted to watch our kids run and splash around together. We share great news when we have it. And we definitely commiserate together over things like maternal sleep deprivation, relationship woes, and the challenges of making ends meet. But we’re making them. We are.
And my prayer for her–for you, Irene– and your two gorgeous children, is the life you’ve dreamed of and worked so hard for. I wish you deep joy, every form of security, loving community, and a gentler path ahead.
