Shirts for School

The first time I looked into the tiny room where “Mommy” Regina and the 10 children she cares for sleep, I heard a voice that was so loud and so clear that it sounded like there was somebody literally speaking to me out loud. Except, the voice was my own and it was definitely inside my head. It said, and this is an exact quote, “Your life will never be the same.”

It’s cliche, yes. But it happened and that was that. Even though I left my first visit to the camp feeling confused as to what I could possibly do to help, I knew that I would figure it out eventually.

The answer came within a week. I brought two friends—one is a student at UC Berkeley and one is a student at UCSD—along with me to the camps a week after my own first visit. They were taken on the same tour of the camp, met Regina, and saw the conditions that Regina is forced to raise the children in. After the girls looked around the house, we all sat outside and started brainstorming.

First, I told Regina and Mercy about my plan to conduct some interviews and hopefully compile something (I felt like the word “book” sounded a tad ambitious) to raise awareness and that, in the meantime, I wanted to figure something else out to at least get the kids into school. I wrote up a goal sheet and, with the help of Regina and the other girls, calculated that we could pay for school for all 10 of the kids, uniforms for the entire year, and rent for 2 years if we raised just $1665.

But what could we do that could raise all that money? The idea came easily as if it had already been planted in my head, even though I’d never thought of it before. We could sell t-shirts in Ghana and America in order to raise both money for the kids and awareness about the refugees. We decided to call it “Shirts for School.”

The rest of my time at Buduburam was pleasant, mostly because I felt a huge enthusiasm for our new project. I felt more comfortable living among the poverty for a night because I knew that, if I did this right, I could definitely make a difference.

Since we’ve come back to the University of Ghana campus, I’ve drawn up a formal funding goal sheet, fliers, order forms, and a world of other things. I’ve also met with a nearby printing group to discuss prices and different printing options. One really neat thing about the printing group is that it’s run by a Brooklyn native who takes in Ghanaian youth and trains them in graphic designing, marketing, and other skills. These young people will be the ones working on our design and putting it down on fabric. I’m glad that our project will be able to benefit these individuals in addition to the refugee children.

Although “Shirts for School” is definitely a young and incredibly informal operation, I can’t wait to see what unfolds. I also conducted my first interview this weekend with Mercy—it was, without a doubt, the best, most poignant, and most influencial interview I’ve conducted in my time as a journalist—and have since started writing.

Somehow, I have the feeling that this may develop into an even bigger and more beneficial project than I can even foresee.