The weight of small things

Today, on my way into work, I was stopped by KK, who is a student intern at the legal aid centre.

KK is about 20 years old and he is both eager and determined.  He wears a heavy black suit to work everyday despite the overwhelming heat and despite the fact that even the most senior advocates dress very casually.  He tells me that he comes from a poor family in a rural village and had to work very hard to pay his school fees and get into law school. He tells me that it was almost impossible.  I am sure he is not exaggerating.

KK tells me that he has set up a school for a group of children just like him.  They live in a rural community just outside of Dar es Salaam and cannot afford their school fees.  KK teaches at the school on the weekends.

KK tells me about the school and then says, can you tell me how I can get funding so that we can hire a teacher to work at the school full-time?  Can you tell me how we can make the school sustainable?  How we can increase enrolment?

KK waits for an answer.  I don’t have one.

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