Dreaming the dreams of others

The girls from the first school I visited.

I have always had many dreams and I believe that dreams bring hope, that someday we might just be able to fulfill them. But what happens when your dreams aren’t your own, just repetitions you have heard since before you can remember? When can you tell the difference between the dreams that you have for yourself and the expectations of others?
                      One of the first evenings I spend in Tanzania this autumn I asked one of the children I lived with, a girl some fifteen years old named Aika who was prone to laughter and smiles, about what she wants to do when she finishes school, she said that she wanted to cook. I thought about it for a moment and asked: “Here?” She answered in the affirmative and pointed to the kitchen. Then I asked her if she didn’t want to be a doctor or a pilot. She said maybe a pilot. I was a bit disappointed, because I thought that she should have, I had imagined that she would have bigger dreams, aspirations. But she doesn’t really have that much of a reason to have bigger dreams, for her cooking for the family would be a great honor. Her dream might have been the most heartfelt that I got on my entire trip.
                      In Kenya I volunteered at a pre-school in one of the poorer neighborhoods of Nakuru. The class that I helped with was the top class, the ones getting ready to go to Standard one. As I was there in November they were getting ready for the Christmas break and starting primary school in January. That meant that they would have a graduation, for the graduation day every class would perform a couple of songs with dancing. My class had a song about dreams: “I have a dream, I have a dream that one day, one time I’ll be a doctor. I have a dream, I have a dream that one day, one time I’ll be a teacher. I have a dream, I have a dream that one day, one time I’ll be a driver. I have a dream, I have a dream that one day, one time I’ll be a pilot. I have a dream, I have a dream that one day, one time I’ll be a mother. I have a dream, I have a dream that one day, one time I’ll be a father.” A doctor, a teacher, a driver, a pilot, a mother, a father, that are the dreams that this song wants for them and I am sure that they will all remember them if they are ever asked if they have a dream.
                      In the end of November I visited Plan in Marimanti, Tharaka in Kenya. We visited one of the school projects there. As they were already on vacation only 30 of the 300 students were present, only girls. I talked with some of the braver girls from class six and seven. All nine of them were going to high school after this and I asked them what they wanted to do after that, what they dreamt of doing. Evelyn was the first to step forward, a sixteen years old girl in class seven with eyes wiser than her years. She has four sisters and three brothers, all of whom have been or are in school. After high school she wants to be a secretary in a bank. Lucy, a fifteen years old girl also in class seven with a cheeky smile and a shy demeanor, wants to be a doctor.  Fifteen years old Sacondina from class seven who has three brothers and two sisters and like playing volleyball and science also wants to be a doctor. Sixteen years old Penina wants to be a lawyer, fourteen years old Ndoris wants to be a doctor, thirteen years old Dhmaris wants to be a secretary in a bank, fourteen years old Ndibora wants to be a lawyer, sixteen years old Ruth wants to be an engineer and fifteen years old Gerevina wants to be a pilot. None of them have ever been outside of the district of Tharaka and none of them are planning to leave anytime soon. And as far as I can tell, there isn’t a university in Tharaka. I really want them to have these big dreams, but I cannot help wonder if it isn’t the dreams of others. Dreams that others expect them to have.