The driver's beard gleamed a deep henna-red in the morning Karachi sun. I sat in the backseat in uneasy comfort as we traversed the crisscross of dusty roads. From my window, a tapestry of life began to unravel fresh from the night's slumber. Buses splashed with globs of iridescent paint bleated their horns, while trucks brimming with cargoes of produce chortled back in a black diesel grunt. Stark contrasts abounded outside my car window. Children rummaged in garbage heaps not far from the shadow of a McDonald's billboard promising a combo for "only 99 Rs" -- ironically an amount equal to a week's salary for many of those stirring awake in the adjacent Katchi Abadi (slum area). Rickety donkey carts rolled alongside air-conditioned, chauffeured Toyotas and Hondas. The surrounding suffering might as well have been a world away, as it is for those of us who live in the industrialized world, and for many of the wealthier Pakistanis as they were shuttled past the abject scenery. My eyes, yearningly absorbing my passing surroundings, riveted to the living scenes of life's tough realities. My heart pledged to move my understanding beyond hollow empathy over the next 10 weeks as I taught English as a Tucker Fellow in Pakistan during the Winter term.
That first day, as I approached my destination, my eyes caught site of a wide expanse of ramshackle huts. Some were fortunate enough to have uneven walls of surplus concrete, while others made do with coarse scraps of corrugated cardboard. Yet across from this mesh of impoverished abodes stood a gleaming pink building in proud incongruence. Framed in the smooth curves and contours of modern architecture, the edifice seemed all but alien to its bleak environment. This building was in fact a breathing extension of the dreary expanse before it; it was one of 80 schools of The Citizen's Foundation, an organization providing free education to Pakistan's poor. Within its walls it gave many children -- who knew nothing more than the toil and suffering of the Katchi Abadi -- a chance to hope, and for the first time in their lives a chance to grasp at opportunity. The truth must not be forgotten that the only thing separating 'us' from 'them' is opportunity -- in the spheres of character and competence, the potential of an impoverished child is no less than that of the privileged child. Opportunity is exactly what The Citizen's Foundation was offering.
That such a beacon of hope existed for those living in these drab conditions was heartening enough for me. So in addition, being a part of the process of affecting change was an immeasurable opportunity for myself in both mind and spirit. As a Government major at Dartmouth, I had huddled over textbooks reading the theory behind social and economic development, but the classroom of real life teaches far more vividly. Living and working in a developing country, seeing its many faces, afforded me a perspective on the world unattainable by any other means. Further, being involved with an organization that is a bonafide engine for social change was equally illuminating. After all, social change is not a vague, fuzzy concept; it involves very concrete mechanics and logistics, and to be at the grassroots of such an effort was an unparalleled educational opportunity for me. Though my function was one of teacher, I quickly learned that I was just as much a pupil. As I taught English grammar and vocabulary, they taught me of their triumphs, their struggles, and their ambitions.
Wahid was a 13 year-old student of mine in grade five, and, though eager to learn, at times he delighted in simple mischief. I felt inclined to dismiss him as a troublemaker uninterested in learning -- I'm glad I didn't make that mistake. Wahid's mother worked as one of a handful of sweepers in the school, and I sat down to chat with her during one of my breaks. She told me how she was a single mother raising Wahid and his two older brothers. Her income from sweeping was paltry, and hardly enough to sustain the family. In spite of this, she was determined to have her youngest son educated, to give him the opportunity to break out of poverty's vicious cycle. Without supplemental income, however, the family could not survive. Wahid's mother told me how everyday after school ended at 1:30p.m., Wahid would go to a Pakistani sweets factory. At the factory he would work a shift lasting from 2p.m. to 1a.m. rolling sweets called 'ladoos' until one in the morning. I realized I had been teaching a child who spent almost every waking hour in the classroom and in a factory. I talked to Wahid and let him know that I knew about his struggle, and that I cared -- this made a world of difference to him. Although he still delighted in occasional mischief, he grew more conscientious as a student, appreciating the simple fact that I knew and cared -- my few simple words actually had a visible impact. Wahid's story, though poignant, was not atypical. The experience of being a part of Wahid's life and the lives of other children whose daily struggle was never or never will be my daily struggle will remain with me for the rest of my life.
Those of us at Dartmouth, regardless of our previous socioeconomic backgrounds, have gained immense privilege. I speak not of the privilege of wealth but of education. Students at Dartmouth must believe with conviction that their privilege bears with it a responsibility -- a responsibility to translate their superlative education into a social impact. Collectively our impact, alongside our peers at similar institutions, can be monumental. Pursuits beyond Dartmouth in investment banking, consulting, law and other fields of corporate endeavor are perfectly respectable. Yet all of us should try and take some time, whether it be a day or a lifetime, to see and be a part of the bleak realities that must be borne by so many around the world. I hope the story of my experience provides some of you with a glimpse of the rewards that we can gain by dedicating ourselves to a cause greater than our self-interest. If all college-educated citizens in the developed world dedicated a small portion of their lives to improving a social condition, we could very literally change the world.
