Hamisa

*Hamisa, a young star who participated in the two latest empowerment seminars offered at our center, was awarded top female participant due to her positive attitude, poignant comments and leadership*

The center which is caring for her currently, Mkombozi, highlighted her in their recent newsletter at the following link in the article titled "A place to call 'home' in Arusha...":

http://www.mkombozi.org/publications/news_story/2008_03_03_news_story_arushagirls_hamisa.pdf

As the article explains, each of Mkombozi's youth have a story to tell and dreams to realize. I thought I'd share that of Hamisa's, which she wrote herself:
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My name is Hamisa Malima. I was born in the Kilimanjaro District. My mother died when I was six months old. My aunt took me to live with her, we were depending on my father and had many problems. My father was bringing us money for our basic needs. When I reached the age of four, my aunt got into trouble and was in the police station for two weeks. At the police station, my aunt had bad stomach pains because she had a wound in her stomach. My father came and got my aunt out of the police station. He helped her to get treatment and finally she got well and left the hospital. My aunt tried hard - every day she went to the market to get us food so that we could survive.
Eventually in 1998, I started my first year of school. I studied until Class 3, when my father told me I should move in with my stepmother. He told me my aunt was having an operation for the second time and there was no other relative that could take me so I could study in the same school. So I transferred to Burka Primary School. Life was not too bad because I was going to school, except my stepmother was not agreeing with me, I don't know why.
I remember in sixth grade, I was coming from school and I met with my father, and he told me that he was ill. I told him not to worry, that God will help him and that he will get better. After two months, my father was still sick, but he wanted to go back to work. One day he was brought from work, dead.
I cried a lot because my father was the one I was depending on for my whole life. When he died, I lost a lot of my plans because there was no other relative who could take care of me and put me through school.
After looking for a place to live, I moved to Musoma (on Lake Victoria) to live with my aunts. When I was living with my aunts, after school I had to sell oranges by the side of the road or at the stand. I went on living like this. When I finished standard seven, I found out I had passed and got accepted to go to a Secondary School in Tarime. But when I was waiting to go to Secondary School, I found out that my name had been stolen and sold. I went to the police to complain about the issue, but they did not take any action. I asked my aunts for fare to go and see my guardians, and they said they had no money.
So I ran away from Musoma because my relatives were showing that they did not want me to return to Arusha but to keep living in Musoma with nothing to do, and my plan was to become a manager for a tourist hotel. I came to Arusha and asked my Mama (guardian) to help me study, she had no money.
I read in the paper about centers who help orphans in Dar es Salaam, but I had no money for the bus fare. Then, one sister brought me to Mkombozi and I asked for help. They listened to my story about my life and now they have taken me in. Now I'm in Mkombozi, and the way I see it, I am reaching my goals.
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On the second day of our last seminar on Memory Books (Feb 27-29th), we challenged our young participants to review their short and long-term goals and insert them in their own book. Hamisa stood up proudly to share that she had reached her short-term goal of studying Hotel Management and that she was still striving to become a Hotel Manager. She is indeed on the way. Yuko safarini tu. Girls like Hamisa, who have overcome inconceivable obstacles, inspire the rest of us to keep going, reaching...

She wasn't the only one to recount this name-stealing phenomenon. Apparently, it was a common occurence in the last decade and still continues in some places in TZ to date. Can you imagine how hopeless, deflated you would feel if your right to education was taken from you, simply stolen overnight?

Several of my friends and family back home ask why I continue to stay in Tanzania.

Neema's why. Saitoti's why. Hamisa's why.