This March break, 10 students and three faculty members are traveling to Tanzania to learn about sustainable development and educational opportunities in rural Tanzania. Please enjoy the blog post below from Edwin ’27 where he reflects on the emotional farewell at Mainsprings, where a joyful night of shared pizza, music, and connection reminded him that across cultures and continents, it is our shared humanity—and the stories behind each name—that truly unite us.
I am never good at saying farewell. I learned that when I left my hometown Shanghai for Deerfield two years ago, as I tried to hold the emotions and memories from overflooding my tear ducts. I felt the same swirl of emotions last night at the end of our farewell pizza party hosted by the girls living at Mainsprings.
We started making the pizza by rolling the dough. As Ms. Parker “accidently” threw flour on Thijs’ face, I commented that this day felt simultaneously like day two and day two hundred. It seemed like barely any time had passed since 13 sleepyheads stumbled out of the plane into the warm night of Mwanza. However, the bonds we have formed with each other and all the faculty and students of Mainsprings during these two weeks makes it seem like we have known each other for our entire lives.
The Mainspring girls dug a square pit into the dirt and filled it with charcoal. I kept myself busy by picking up the rolled-out circles of dough and carefully setting each one on the makeshift wire grill. I looked around at the girls tending the fire, the flames illuminating their eager faces. A wave of guilt washed over me as I realized that I didn’t even learn all their names. I believe that names encompass everything individuals represent under the surface. Mtaka is the name of a young man who decided to return to Mwanza to spread all the knowledge about permaculture he learned when being far away from home. Jackson is a quiet, talented chef whose passions changed the tradition of how men couldn’t cook in his Maasai tribe. Ntake had dreams of working at Serengeti as a young boy, which inspired him to be a safari guide. By remembering their names, I see more than the role they play in shaping my Tanzanian experience, whether it’s permaculture sessions, bracelet making, or safari. I recognize them as my peers who have their own backstories, cultures, faiths, ambitions, and passions. Ashura, Jonas, Muso, Younge and Selma each bear complex, uniquely beautiful stories worthy of telling. Remembering and celebrating names reminds me of the importance of treating everyone with kindness and respect, as we are all humans with commonalities despite our differences.
The pizza fire pit grew brighter and brighter as the sun started to slip underneath the treetops. Deerfield students and Mainsprings girls took turns spreading the toppings on each of the pizzas. Tomato sauce first, then shreds of basil, tomato, onion, and cheese. The matrons laid the finished pizzas on the tables inside the meeting house. Americans, Tanzanians, and a Chinese person, all sitting around the same table digging into Italian food, while Shuku, the primary host of our visit, played a mix of Tanzanian dance music and Justin Bieber in the background. I had to wolf down my last slice of pizza as Ashura dragged me onto the dance floor. I tried to slowly inch my way to the door but was quickly pulled back in as the whole group started to sing Party in the USA. While our schools and homes are thousands of miles apart, Deerfield students and the young girls at Mainsprings enjoy the same food and beats. Long-standing Western stereotypes create the illusion that African countries are “undeveloped,” “wild,” and “exotic.” Last night, pizza and Justin Bieber proved that neither physical distance nor living circumstances set us apart. Our taste buds and ears came to an agreement, and that was all that mattered.
It was already pitch black outside when Mr. Pitcher, eager to get us to bed before our long trip back to America, had to peel every single one of us out of hugs from the Mainsprings students and faculty. The singing slowly waned as I squinted into the darkness. Thirty voices began exchanging a warm, long round of “goodbye” and “asante sana.” These expressions of friendship and gratitude were, I suspect, the secret ingredients that made the pizza taste so good.