For the past ten (plus) years, my Saturday mornings have been spent deep in my pillow sleeping off the previous night’s smorgasboard of martinis and rosé. Last Saturday, I found myself up at 6.30am vaccinating three week old chickens. I was one of three volunteers assisting an NGO called Shukuru, and we spent the day following a local chap named Haggai around the Sanyajuu village up in the hills near Moshi. Sanyajuu is around an hour and a half’s drive from Arusha and is green and lush; a sensory delight after a week of chaos and fumes in the big smoke.
Shukuru was established in 2012 by an American woman named Joanne, whose mission is to improve girls’ access to secondary education. In Tanzania four out of five girls will not attend secondary school. While primary school is government funded, secondary school fees can exceed USD $150 per year, a prohibitive cost for most families. While many NGO’s fundraise to donate money, pure charity is not a sustainable or empowering solution. Shukuru is different. The Shukuru model provides baby chicks to primary aged girls to care for and rear until they are mature and ready to be sold at market. The girls can supplement the poultry sales with eggs and manure, enabling them to self-finance their continued education, as well as teaching business skills and confidence.
The Shukuru girls we visited were all aged between 12 and 14. If I recall myself at the same age, I was at boarding school where I spent weekends skiing, horseriding, and throwing soggy Weet Bix at the ceiling fan for kicks. A total turd. Of the eight mudbrick and timber scrap homes we visited in Sanyajuu, most did not have electricity or running water yet were immaculately kept. Unlike Arusha, there was no garbage or city filth, the animals were well cared for, and the pet dogs actually had names, like Rasta and Swag.
The last girl we went to see was an orphan who had recently survived a fire at her house. One of her grandmother’s two cows had burned to death. The remaining cow was covered in welts and burns, and his weeping face was absolutely heart breaking. I had to go and recover in the banda (Swahili for chicken coop), and take a few deep breaths of manure air.
I never thought that vaccinating smelly birds would be such a helluva day. The Shukuru girls were the most beautiful, brave and dedicated little souls. As we got in Joanne’s car to head back to Arusha, my heart was wide open. Check out her good work at www.shukuru.org.
Shukuru was established in 2012 by an American woman named Joanne, whose mission is to improve girls’ access to secondary education. In Tanzania four out of five girls will not attend secondary school. While primary school is government funded, secondary school fees can exceed USD $150 per year, a prohibitive cost for most families. While many NGO’s fundraise to donate money, pure charity is not a sustainable or empowering solution. Shukuru is different. The Shukuru model provides baby chicks to primary aged girls to care for and rear until they are mature and ready to be sold at market. The girls can supplement the poultry sales with eggs and manure, enabling them to self-finance their continued education, as well as teaching business skills and confidence.
The Shukuru girls we visited were all aged between 12 and 14. If I recall myself at the same age, I was at boarding school where I spent weekends skiing, horseriding, and throwing soggy Weet Bix at the ceiling fan for kicks. A total turd. Of the eight mudbrick and timber scrap homes we visited in Sanyajuu, most did not have electricity or running water yet were immaculately kept. Unlike Arusha, there was no garbage or city filth, the animals were well cared for, and the pet dogs actually had names, like Rasta and Swag.
The last girl we went to see was an orphan who had recently survived a fire at her house. One of her grandmother’s two cows had burned to death. The remaining cow was covered in welts and burns, and his weeping face was absolutely heart breaking. I had to go and recover in the banda (Swahili for chicken coop), and take a few deep breaths of manure air.
I never thought that vaccinating smelly birds would be such a helluva day. The Shukuru girls were the most beautiful, brave and dedicated little souls. As we got in Joanne’s car to head back to Arusha, my heart was wide open. Check out her good work at www.shukuru.org.
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