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From the President
How Can I Look the Same When I Feel So Different Inside?
Editor's note: President Alastair Summerlee invites comments on his column at president@uoguelph.ca.
I am writing this column while flying home from Africa. It's hard to put into words what I experienced and learned over the past two weeks and how it has affected my life. Suffice to say that when I look in the mirror, I am surprised by my reflection. The transformation that has taken place in my heart and mind is so profound, I can't believe it isn't visible on the outside. But I know the person looking back at me in the mirror is different, with a new appreciation for everything and everyone.
This was not entirely unexpected. I am a seasoned enough international traveller to know that you don't embark on a journey like this and come back unaffected. Still, the magnitude of the change has taken me by surprise, and I have only begun to process it.
The plane ride back to Canada is long and tedious. There is much to do when I return, so my thoughts should be occupied by the many tasks that await me. But I can't think of anything other than what I saw in Africa and what I — and we as a university community — must do now.
I was in Africa as part of a special mission organized by World University Service of Canada (WUSC), whose board of directors I chair. Our trip was intended to help build a figurative bridge to Botswana, where we hoped to deepen and broaden contacts, activities and programs. We also visited Kenya, where WUSC has a student refugee program that brings young people to Canada to pursue an education. I am happy to report that we did lay the foundation for a figurative bridge and that the traffic travelling over that bridge will be two-way. We will go back, and some of the many wonderful people I met in Africa will come here.
But what I didn't fully anticipate was the impact the people of Botswana would have on me. I think I learned more from them in two weeks than they can ever learn from me. It is impossible to describe all these lessons in detail here, but I want to share a few key things.
First, I am returning home with new understanding of — and renewed faith in — the power of internationalism. This has always been one of Guelph's strategic directions, but I am more convinced than ever of its importance. We must continue with exchanges, internships and overseas research. Our community can learn and grow from what people in Africa have to share with us. And we must change the way we develop academic programs to ensure we are teaching with a global perspective in our Canadian classrooms.
But more than that, we need to encourage our students, faculty and staff to think and act globally. Helping different people, cultures and communities leads to an understanding of the aspirations of people from all walks of life. It also helps produce compassionate, virtuous and engaged citizens.
During my trip, I was reminded of how blessed we are in Canada with our abundance of educational opportunities and how we should never take our access to learning and knowledge for granted.
I visited two refugee camps in Kenya: Dadaab in the southeast, which has about 170,000 inhabitants, and Kakuma in the northwest, which has about 70,000. WUSC has student refugee programs in both camps.
There are some highly challenging situations in Africa at the moment, with a number of countries torn by strife and civil war and a substantial number of refugees fleeing terrible atrocities — these are the real victims of war, and their plight is unfathomable and tragic.
Many of the children in the camps have lived there for most, if not all, of their life, and the stories of what brought them there are harrowing. Yet somehow through this misery and sadness, the human spirit shines through. With nothing to bequeath to their children in a material sense, many parents support education for their kids as the only hope of escape. And everyone is eager to learn — sometimes 30 to 40 children share a single textbook.
Fundamentally, I have always believed in the goodness of people, but Africa has taught me a lesson in absolute humility and the true meaning of the indomitable spirit of the human mind.
There is no doubt that those of us who are fortunate to live where conflict does not exist need to do more to extend a hand.
There are people in the camps who are trying to help. They are preparing refugees to come to Canada and, above all, giving them hope of a brighter future.
During my trip, I met some of the kindest, most committed people on earth. Most of them are volunteers just trying to help, and they possess a depth of love, hope and determination the likes of which I have never seen before. I am full of awe and admiration for them. They are working in unbelievably bleak circumstances and against all odds, yet they never tire and they never give up. They give me hope that it's possible for small groups of people to change and improve the lives of thousands.
During my journey, I also saw first-hand how vital it is that U of G continue its efforts to raise money to help fight AIDS in Africa through the Masai Project: For Africa, for AIDS, for Hope. The disease has ravaged this continent, and seeing the extent of the destruction, especially the effect on children, is heartbreaking.
In Botswana, for example, 24 per cent of the 1.6 million people who live there have AIDS. It's estimated that the country has at least 53,000 AIDS-related orphans, and more people die every day. The freshly dug graves everywhere are a grim reminder of this.
Where do you begin when faced with such staggering statistics? How do the people who are trying to help keep on going and why do they stay? The answer I heard over and over again is that failure is guaranteed if we don't even try.
As a university, we can help by continuing to support the Masai Project. Our goal is to raise $100,000 on campus as part of a larger community effort headed by local doctor Anne-Marie Zajdlik to raise $1 million for an AIDS clinic in Lesotho, the epicentre of the AIDS epidemic in Africa. To date, we have raised close to $50,000, partly by selling the red and white “Bracelets of Hope.”
I hope soon to see a bracelet on the wrist of every person on this campus. They are both a symbol that we are trying to help and a reminder of how much desperately needs to be done in Africa.
I am thinking of all these things and more while I am winging my way back to Guelph. I know that soon I'll be landing at Pearson, where I'll wait in line after line, collect my luggage, find Red Car and make my way home, just like I've done so many times before.
While going through these routine motions, however, I'll think about the happy, smiling faces of the people who touched and inspired me. I'll recall the overwhelming sadness I felt at times and the sense of rejuvenation I experienced at others. I'll remember Africa and know that I'm coming back a different person.