Mimi Muir

gave me the bowl, expressing, “You’re welcome to eat.” I was in awe that these students, with scant resources and food, wanted to please me. I thought of kids back at home who complain about food. This pot, which could not feed all of the students to American standards, was being given to me so that I would be full. It was hard to hold back my tears. hen it was time to go on to the next school or return home after a long day, the girls would sob and make me promise to return. Many of the girls told me that they wanted to name their first child “Mimi” after me. My favorite part of the whole experience was being toppled with hugs and having children hang from all my limbs shouting “I love you” and “thank you,”

knowing I had touched their lives, too.

One day when shopping at a market, I ran into a man dressed in all-white linens, who sparked a conversation with me about why I was in Tanzania. He handed me his business card, which titled him as some leader in the government. A little skeptical and hesitant to believe his position, I thanked him and continued my day giving little thought to our conversation. The next morning, he reached out and invited my team to a conference. In the spur of the moment, we went. Unexplainable except for a higher power, the conference included Tanzanian officials and high leaders. We listened to their conference and shared our project and hopes. The possibility of a national expansion for the UhuruPad project was ignited! ntering into this, a grassroots project, I did not expect to fall in love with the work, the country, or the people. Upon my arrival back home to the states, I already dreamt of the next summer when I could return to Tanzania. My perceptions, attitudes, and goals shifted based on this experience, and I plan to extend the mission of my work there. hope to attend medical school or focus on public health and policy and devote my life, similarly to Laura, to giving back to my community and to the world at large. Like her, I aspire to lead a selfless life motivated by giving to others. When my dad died in 2015, everything changed for me. Instead of remaining fixated on what I did not have, I chose to focus on what I did have. Through that shift, I also realized that I am stronger

than I knew, more determined than once believed, and much more capable than people assume. As the oldest of four, by default, I assumed a great sense of responsibility and, in watching my mother lead us in her new role, the importance of having education became crystal clear.

he UhuruPad project extended that reach for me so that I could share with other girls the notion that they too could reach their potential. UhuruPads not only support their dignity each month, but also mean a more consistent education. Realizing what I had taken for granted ranging from easily accessible hygiene products to clean water and a fantastic education, a newfound consciousness guided me throughout my junior year of high school. Knowing that I had to continue the conversation, without reservation, I agreed to return with a growing delegation this summer.