“When Tererai was here in 2009,” Oprah said in response, “we got a glimpse at the horrible conditions of the school.” The screens in the studio replayed video footage of the school in my village as she went on. “The buildings are literally falling apart, and most classrooms have no desks, so they do all their reading and writing on the floor. The teachers have no supplies and as a result, there’s a dismal fourteen percent pass rate.” I nodded my head as she spoke.
“Your story is at the core of everything I believe in,” Oprah said. “For that reason I’m going to help you rebuild your school. I’m donating a million and a half dollars.”
My mouth opened wide and I instinctively reached for Oprah’s hand, completely overcome, my breath caught in my chest. I struggled to get up from my seat, my legs almost giving way beneath me but needing to stand so I could wrap my arms around her. I momentarily turned my back to the audience, my heart racing and my body pulsing, unable to process the power of this miracle gift. My fifth dream! I looked into Oprah’s eyes as she looked into mine.
“We are going to build a school,” she proclaimed.
Our hands clasped tightly together, I replied, and as I spoke she joined me in my declaration, our voices becoming one, “And it is achievable!”
Once backstage again, I soon realized that this was planned all along. The producer had prepared me for the biggest surprise of my life. The whole Harpo team was in on it from the start. Later I met the producer and he gave me a big hug and congratulated me for the gift I had received. Before I could ask any questions, Oprah came and took my hands for more photos. What a day!
Harpo Studios then arranged for Save the Children, an international humanitarian organization, to manage the whole donation and the construction project. The organization developed a plan that included not only rebuilding Matau Primary School but also repairing the infrastructure of neighboring schools. My school will have a new playground, latrines, and hand-washing stations as well as desks, chairs, and books for every child. Teachers will receive training on how to help young children prepare for school and how to help older children improve their reading skills. More girls will attend class and have greater opportunities to build a better future.
I was numb with joy as I left Chicago and was once again reminded of my mother’s words: “Every dream has greater meaning when tied to the betterment of one’s community.” In my head, I repeated the birth song that my grandmothers sang:
I, the umbilical cord, I remind you of what is important—the power of your identity, the power of your roots, the power of “we.” I call you back home.
The seeds of hope that I had planted almost two decades earlier, my buried dreams, are now bearing fruit for the fifth sacred dream. I never imagined that the universe would help me to achieve more than I had bargained for. I feel the energy of generations of women before me rising up in celebration, chanting, and ululating.
Despite being cautioned three times not to ask, the pull of the umbilical cord and my buried dreams was so strong that I could no longer be silenced by any circumstances. That which is buried energetically connected me from the roots to outward action. I knew the ancient power of what I’d buried in the earth was calling and all I needed to do was to use my voice in the platform I had been given to right the wrongs done to generations of my fellow women and girls. I needed to fulfill my sacred dream. How could I allow myself to be held back by something as inconsequential as waiting for permission when my sacred purpose was calling? Who was I to remain silent in such a powerful arena?
One Brick at a Time
Trust that laying the foundation of your inner authority in the service of your sacred dream is part of a worldwide movement toward building a better world. Fall in love with those moments flickering everywhere, when someone chooses permission over perfectionism, or when someone chooses to pursue her connectedness rather than to linger alone in insecurity.
Know that you are part of a greater whole. Be a part of this revolution by showing up for yourself; know that when you do so, you show up for others, too, and that your actions can and will heal this broken world. Let me show you one way that I’ve experienced this ripple effect.
Hardly three months after Oprah’s initial donation was received, work began on the new Matau Primary School. Students, teachers, families, and local government authorities such as the district administrator gathered at the construction site on the morning of July 1, 2011. Completing a powerful circle from decades before when I buried my dream of this school in the earth, a Matau Primary School student broke ground with a pick commemorating the beginning of the new school.
The local chief and his seventeen headmen mobilized community members to support the efforts of Save the Children. Not long after work had begun, the same headman who had rallied the community to contribute to my airfare so that I could attend school in America again asserted his leadership. Encouraging everyone to support the school project, he organized groups of people to create bricks for the buildings. With no electric power, the community molded almost half a million bricks by hand in less than six months. Using their bare hands and without mechanized support, more than 200,000 bricks failed to meet the construction standards, and yet, the older women never lost hope until the community assembled 450,000 bricks to build a brand-new school, which today accommodates more than 1,200 children.
An elected school development committee organized more than four hundred community volunteers to transport sand, water, and building materials. This is a sight to behold! Every day, groups of women and men gather in different locales to create bricks that are then fired in a kiln at high temperatures. Producing handmade bricks is tedious, backbreaking work. The fact that so many are willing to help is an indication of how much the community wants this school. They understand that they have been given a rare opportunity.
Women were the first to commit to the project. They desperately wanted their children, and especially their daughters, to “be like Tererai”—that is, to break out of the vicious cycle of poverty. The people of my village worked on a common cause in new ways and it brought them even closer together. Rich in spirit, community members proudly “own” the process of building the school from the start, which is a sure marker of success. They set a good example for other communities as they contributed time, labor, skills, and knowledge to the creation of one of the best community-driven rural schools Africa will ever see.
When I returned to America, village women stayed in touch. One morning in December 2012, I received three text messages from some of the grandmothers:
Gogo Sande: A brand-new school is now standing. It seems like a dream!
Gogo Kawocha: Tererai, my daughter could not read or write. She died leaving orphans under my care. Now, those children can read at home and even I am learning to read. That this could happen was unheard of until the Matau Project. It’s a miracle!
Gogo Kambuzuma: I saw the new desks and chairs arriving. Now, our children have hope for a better future!
Pleasure mingles with tears as I pictured these grandmothers paying young men with mobile phones to send me these text messages. I cannot stop smiling as I picture Gogo Kawocha participating in her grandchildren’s education. It is humbling to know that these women, who have had little to no schooling, are as excited as children preparing for their first day of school.
From 2012 to 2014, more than five thousand preschoolers and school-age children from Matau and neighboring villages participated in early learning and community-wide literacy programs. A comparative study shows that students from our schools are more fluent in English and Shona than children in similar schools. In addition, Matau has instituted a very successful “reading buddy program” in which students join with peers, parents, or grandparents to practice reading. Below is a text I received from another grandmother. Simply signed Gogo, the woman assumes that I will recognize her but I do not.
I never would have thought it possible to become my granddaughter’s reading buddy. While I cannot r
ead or write, my grandchildren give me the eyes I need and a feel for words that I never knew I had.
In May 2013, I returned to the village to see the progress for myself. Walking around campus, I stopped at the new water well and pump. To build it, workers had to drill nearly 140 feet into the ground while volunteers dug trenches for pipes that would connect the water hole to a 5,000-liter-capacity storage tank and pump. The sparkling clean water, now available to all neighboring communities, has for the first time significantly reduced the likelihood of a cholera or typhoid epidemic.
Rounding a corner, I pass colorful paintings of wild animals. Several four- and five-year-old girls are reading new books while others play on swings. Laughter fills the air and the children’s smiles are contagious. Besides having fun, I believe that laughter and joy open them up to new learning. The prekindergarten headmistress looks on in wonderment. These little girls are in school, not at home attending to chores and taking care of their siblings. What a different experience they are having compared to my own as a young girl!
Carrying the children’s laughter with me, I head toward the newly constructed library, the only library in this area of rural Zimbabwe. As I visualize children concentrating on their books, Gogo Kawocha approaches me. She says, “It is beautiful to be surrounded by these new buildings and to know that our grandchildren are learning.” Then she asks, “Tererai, are you coming to our reading camp this weekend?” Here is an old woman who cannot read or write but who knows what is happening in the reading camps. Thirty-six reading camps are shared among six schools in the region, where children read under the guidance of trained mentors. These camps have played a big part in improving literacy in the area.
Despite the fact that Zimbabwe has a high literacy rate in comparison to other African nations, I can easily name all of the adults in my community who can read or count to a hundred. Life for their children and grandchildren will be different, indeed. I think of each one of those handcrafted bricks. This was my dream, yes, but it was built and is enjoyed by an entire community. Now it is a shared dream.
Your dreams are shared dreams, too, my sisters. Your dreams of healing your life, of soothing your heart’s aching, will ripple outward to improve the lives of many people and this earth we call home. When I say that the world is urgently in need of your awakening, I want you to know how very much your inner longings can do when you tie them to a sacred, social purpose. Your sacred dreams are achievable! This world, so full of hurt, broken in so many ways, needs you now.
Sacred Brothers for Sacred Sisters
In my travels around the world, I have seen so many men who go out of their way to celebrate women and promote women’s causes, men who are sensitive to the needs of their daughters, sisters, wives, and community members. These men have a massive potential to support and encourage women’s global rising. And in many cases, men also need the support and guidance of the teachings that I offer in this book. Gender equality liberates all people from gender stereotypes. We don’t change the world for the better without throwing out a net of love and empathy for all living beings.
Unfortunately, social valuing of masculinity over femininity is overwhelming much of the world, breeding a dehumanizing culture in which women’s dignity is diminished—and this isn’t good for anyone involved: it devalues anything associated with femininity, including the feminine in men. It is not about men versus women, but the ideas and practices that celebrate masculinity over femininity. The world can be a better place if we eradicate this unequal value system and bring more love, more light, and more life into all the places where we experience silencing or invisibility.
After all, it was two men who helped me achieve my dreams: Zuda’s uncle, who gave me the key to getting Zuda’s permission to go to America, and the headman who rallied my community to help fund my plane ticket. And men mobilized the community in building the school of my dreams so that young girls could be educated. You see, the work we do as sacred dreamers can transform patriarchal communities and ideas. The passion of our dreams and the possibilities they evoke can ripple out into every heart.
We can all learn from one organization in southern Africa working for gender equality: Padare/Enkundleni (Men’s Forum on Gender). Based in Zimbabwe, this organization focuses on eliminating violence against women and on HIV and AIDS prevention. This male-led organization has not only used its platform to confront and challenge gender stereotypes that negatively affect women, but also to influence national policy and programs.
How do they do it? Padare/Enkundleni established sixty men’s networks across Zimbabwe with an average of fifty men in each group. The organization sits on the Domestic Violence Council, a national body that was established with a mandate to promote the protection and relief of victims of domestic violence through research, information dissemination, and the coordination and monitoring of the implementation of the Domestic Violence Act. It also sits on the Gender-Based Violence Committee supported by UN Women. This is a beautiful, productive framework of both inside-out empowerment and outside-in social organizing; they work with the people on the ground while at the same time reaching out beyond the local all the way to the UN. And it is organized, initiated, and practiced by men for women.
I am also deeply moved by the individual men I’ve met who are fighting for women. The AIDS pandemic sweeping across the global south most severely impacts those who are economically vulnerable. As a result, older women, widowed grandmothers, and single older women often find themselves joining one of the oldest and most demeaning professions, prostitution, to survive. Robson Zimuto uses his platform to fight for social and economic justice among these women.
As former director of Heifer International in Zimbabwe, Robson had the courage to follow his convictions—what he felt was right—despite intense criticism from friends and allies. With the goal of reducing the spread of HIV, Robson seeks not only to alter deeply rooted ideas about sexuality and gender, but also to challenge gender stereotypes, roles, and practices that prevent men from working with women to end gender discrimination. The only way to resist the gender inequality that exists among commercial sex workers, Robson felt, was to involve men in a meaningful and practical way.
Many thought this director was crazy to pursue prostitutes. After all, those who practiced this trade were shunned by our society. Some people felt strongly that women practicing transactional sex deserved HIV infections as punishment for their behavior. Robson did not agree and defied every warning and criticism even from people close to him. That recruiting prostitutes was not seen as noble or worthwhile did not bother him.
He started by sensitizing his male staff to understand masculinity and privileges that lead to gender inequalities, subsequently denying women access to education and better employment. He understood the role of gender inequality and how it drives women to engage in transactional sex to secure income for food and other family expenses. He also understood that teamwork, a good strategy, and perseverance were needed to convince women to leave behind the one “job” they knew, hard as it was, that provided for their families. Together with his team he set out to coax women commercial sex workers away from the streets.
He searched for them on the streets, in beer halls, and on truck driver routes. Then, he’d bring them to a center offering training in developing business plans and marketing strategies. A group of former prostitutes grew and eventually formed a cooperative that today operates a microfinance project. This venture allows them to make a living by selling vegetables they have grown and livestock they have raised. Soon, more men joined Robson in what he now calls the “Fight for gender equality and dignity.”
In 2006, I was sent by Heifer International to evaluate this program’s effectiveness. When I asked a group of women to identify changes they’d experienced from their past lives to the present, all agreed that they were not making enough money. As evaluators, especially when dealing with prostitution, we hope that our programs provide enough incentives for p
articipants to move away from life on the streets. So while I was contemplating my answer to their dilemma, one of the older former sex workers looked me in the eyes and said, “My child, when I go home, I look at myself in the mirror and see dignity. Before, I was embarrassed to look into the eyes of my own children after sex activities. I felt dirty and unworthy to be a mother and a grandparent. It’s not about how much money we make now; life is about how much dignity we leave behind as a legacy of wealth to our children.”
Today, many now see Robson as a true catalyst for change; someone who defied the naysayers and refused to be defined by societal norms. When I asked Robson what made him move away from the path of least resistance, he said, “Gender equality is a social justice issue, and my conscience would not allow me to sleep without at least giving it a try. The war on such inequality could only be won . . .” he continued, “when men join to support women and also become the conscience . . . of gender equality. It’s important to realize that men also need the support in understanding their privilege in this society and be sensitized to becoming a collective voice with women to fight gender inequality.”
I am inspired by the powerful examples of men and women working together to address gender inequality in other parts of the world as well. When Canada’s prime minister, Justin Trudeau, announced he had appointed women to half of his government’s cabinet positions, many people asked him why. “Because it’s 2015,” he replied. And I danced in my living room at the simple, powerful truth of this historical moment.
My mother would often repeat this bit of African wisdom: “If you want to go fast, go alone, but if you want to go far, go with others.” My mother knew that no matter the issue, we need collaboration and strong partnerships to fulfill our ubuntu—the essence of our humanity. We sacred sisters cannot do it alone. We must also look for those sacred brothers, those men who wear a woman’s heart, and rise together.
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