The Mission of the
Sisters of the Resurrection
in Tanzania
“Let the children ...” – these three simple words from the Gospel are not just the foundation, but they are the heartfelt cry of our mission in Tanzania. Let them learn. Let them discover talents that were not noticed before in a world of extreme poverty. Let them finally receive the absolute essentials to break free from the cycle of poverty and begin building a transformed future.
Twenty years ago, the Sisters of the Resurrection arrived on Tanzanian soil at the invitation of Bishop Justin Tetmu Samba of the Diocese of Musoma. Their mission was a promotion of education, raising the standard of learning for children, with a special focus on girls. To put it mildly, the situation of women and girls in this part of the world still leaves much to be desired. Although respected for the sole fact of giving birth, in daily life they are often treated like second-class citizens, pushed to the margins by pervasive, deeply rooted sexism. They face barriers to education and employment, and their dreams are brutally confined solely to the role of motherhood and domestic responsibilities.
The sisters began their work in the small hillside village of Buturu, located near Lake Victoria. Two decades ago, aside from two small secondary school buildings and about a dozen huts scattered through the tall grass, there was literally nothing there. For the villagers, the hilly terrain meant one thing: a paralyzing lack of water accompanied by extreme poverty.
Over time, however, with the help of people with generous hearts - our donors - the sisters began to build walls of hope. Their first priority was expanding the boarding high school for girls. This was no ordinary building; it was a safe haven. It became a place where they could learn and find protection from the restrictions of local beliefs, witchcraft, and tribal traditions that did not acknowledge the human rights.
The local community eventually came to appreciate the sisters' efforts and welcomed them warmly. This trust led parents to plead: "Sisters, teach our children to read and write!" The first lessons took place in a makeshift gazebo covered with dry grass. Sheltering from the scorching African sun, the sisters traced the first letters and numbers with the toddlers, repeated the simplest English words, and prayed that the One who brought them here would guide their next steps. As more and more children gathered, the gazebo soon began bursting at the seams. That was when the sisters realized it was time to think about a genuine preschool.
With no small amount of effort... they started building. Today, children from Buturu and surrounding villages attend the preschool. Because of the distance, they depend on a school bus which they wait for in the dark as early as 6:00 a.m. (In equatorial Tanzania, God turns the lights on and off at nearly the same time all year round: 7:00 a.m. and 7:00 p.m.). These children arrive without having eaten breakfast. That is why the sisters have provided meals from the very beginning. In the morning, our little ones drink uji - a thick corn porridge - and in the afternoon, they get a nutritious lunch. During the week, the children also receive an egg, fruit, and - at the end of the last class of the week - a sweet surprise. Every single meal is a gift from people who make these preschool children healthy and happy.
And just like a refrain over the years, the parents' requests kept coming: Don't stop, sisters, keep teaching our children. Regardless of their background or religion, parents always emphasize the beneficial impact of education and upbringing by "our sisters." This brings great joy, but also a great responsibility.
The decision on the next step was accelerated by a visit to a local public school. There, we witnessed dramatic conditions: tiny classrooms and zero basic equipment. Fundamental necessities were missing such as: functional desks, chairs, and even ordinary notebooks or textbooks. A single classroom crammed anywhere from 90 to 150 children. Curious about how that many students fit into such a small space, we asked the teacher how they seated them. He answered with disarming honesty: "Who said they all sit inside the classroom? Some look through the windows" - windows that, of course, had no glass.
This experience sparked the determination to build a proper elementary school. A place where every child has a desk of their own, a text book in hand and the freedom to learn. Through the immense effort of our Congregation, this construction is now entering its final phase! We want to create a safe space where children grow up in love, where no one goes hungry, and where no one hits a child for getting a number or a letter wrong.