The Next Generation

February 21, 2024

Seated in a circle with eight smartly dressed young adults, I’m simply an observer.  The young woman to my right, Gloria, a graduate of the sponsorship program, leads the group.  “Tell us your name, when Project Have Hope started sponsoring you and what you’re doing now,” she directs.  A young man with a freshly pressed white button down shirt and a red tie begins.  “My name is Opio Jotham.  Project Have Hope started sponsoring me in 2008.  I received my diploma in clinical medicine and am now studying to become an anesthesiologist.”  “My name is Ajok Winifred.  Project Have Hope started my sponsorship in 2007.  I am studying to become a mechanical engineer.”  Tears threaten to overtake me as I look around the circle – two lawyers, two teachers, a doctor, a mechanical engineer, a civil engineer, an auto mechanic, a tailor, a beautician and the list goes on.

It seems like a lifetime has passed since I first met these children, now adults, who proudly proclaimed their childhood dreams to me.  Like children everywhere, their dreams were lofty.  Considering the circumstances into which they were born, I had doubted that they would become doctors and lawyers.  Shame on me for doubting their dreams and their tenacity to achieve them.

The circle continues to grow as more stylishly attired young adults meander in, eventually reaching 25.  After they each introduce themselves, Gloria turns to me and asks what I had hoped they could help me with when I chose to call them together.  I hesitate.  Stumped.  Unsure of what to say.  Surrounding me is a group of students who have graduated from Project Have Hope’s scholastic sponsorship program.  After eighteen years, more than 100 children have passed through the ranks.  Some I periodically see while in Uganda.  Many I haven’t seen in years.  Upon Gloria’s suggestion last fall, I put the word out that I’d like to meet with any graduates who were around and willing.  My only real hope was to gather updates to share with past sponsors and to muster a little encouragement for myself.  Because, to be honest, running PHH is hard.  Like, really, really hard.  There’s never enough money.  Never enough time.  Never enough manpower.  And, more often than not, I feel like I‘m spinning my wheels and my efforts are wasted.  Quite honestly, I was feeling burnt out and really needed some positive reinforcements to latch onto to set the tone and keep me motivated to continue.

My mind replayed Gloria’s question.  What did I want from them?  “Honestly, I just wanted to know what you were up to …” I faltered.  Then some coherent thoughts took shape.  These were no longer kids sitting before me seeking my assistance.  These were empowered, educated adults.  “Do you recall how you’d write letters to your sponsors?”  They nodded and grinned and stifled some impish giggles reminding me of their younger selves.  I continued, “Well, the letters are a really powerful way to help the sponsors feel connected.  Often the younger kids are unable to write well.  It would be really helpful if at the end of each term, some of you could come and write letters together with the younger kids.”  Gloria moderated, completely in charge of the gathering.  “We will help write letters,” she informed the group.  “But what more can we do?” she earnestly implored.  “These are our people.  Our brothers and sisters.  We were there before.  We were young once.  What do we know now that can help them achieve their dreams?”

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