The Book of Hope: A Survival Guide for Trying Times(31)

The following year Renée asked Jane to pay another visit. “I met with her and the principal, and they told me that some of the children had been really keen to start Roots & Shoots groups and wanted to tell me what they had decided to do. ‘I’m sure you’ve seen far more polished presentations,’ the teacher told me afterward, ‘but these children have never presented before.’ There were actually tears in her eyes.

“The first group of children wanted to ban Styrofoam from their school lunches. They had developed a little skit,” Jane recalled. “One boy acted the part of manager of a company and another the spokesperson for the small group of Roots & Shoots members. Not only were they amazingly knowledgeable about Styrofoam—they all acted really well! They were actually invited later to make their presentation in front of the borough president of the Bronx. And they succeeded in getting Styrofoam banned from their school!”

“That must have made these kids feel so proud,” I said. “And made them feel that it really is possible for kids to make a real difference.”

“Yes, that’s what’s so exciting,” Jane agreed. “Then there was a presentation by Travis, an eleven-year-old African American boy, that impressed me even more. His teacher had told me that before he joined Roots & Shoots, he had seldom attended school. When he had, he’d sat at the back of the class, hiding his face under the hood of his sweatshirt. He never spoke.

“Well, Travis came forward and stood very straight in front of me, looking directly at me. The one other member of his group stood silent behind him. Travis told me he had seen a dressed-up chimpanzee on a cereal box. He was supposed to be smiling and happy. ‘But you told us that face wasn’t smiling, it was because he was fearful,’ he said. ‘So I wrote to you and you told me that I was right.’ Standing even straighter, he looked right into my eyes. ‘That’s when I decided to take action,’ he said. He and his friend had written to the manager of the company. They got a letter back that thanked them. Many others had objected to the chimpanzee on the cereal box, too, but Travis did not know that. Imagine how he felt when the advertisement was withdrawn!”

“One of the most important determinants of hope in one’s life is seeing one’s agency, one’s ability to be effective,” I commented. “That must have changed his life. It makes you wonder what small success started Gandhi or Mandela on their life paths.”

“Yes, this is why I am so passionate about working with youth in all walks of life. So often they just need a chance, just need some attention, someone who listens and encourages and cares. If they have that support and begin to see that they can truly make a difference, then the impact they can make is enormous.”





Love in a Hopeless Place



Jane told me many more inspiring stories about Roots & Shoots groups and how they were transforming their communities. I was particularly moved by the story she told about the encounter that fueled her desire to start Roots & Shoots on reservations in the United States.

“In 2005, after one of my talks in New York,” Jane said, “a note was brought to the stage door. It was from a Native American man named Robert White Mountain, asking if he could come backstage and talk to me.

“I was stunned when he told me his sixteen-year-old son had recently killed himself by hanging.”

Robert White Mountain told Jane that the place where he lived in North Dakota had one of the highest suicide rates in the United States—there were three to six suicides or suicide attempts a week. Only fifteen of the young men his son had gone to school with were still alive. As he was burying his son, Robert silently promised him he would try to do something about it. He had heard about this woman called Jane Goodall and her Roots & Shoots program and, in his desperation, wondered if she could help.

“So—could you?” I asked Jane.

“Well, I did manage to get to his community. He took me to visit the safe house he had created for young people who were affected by drugs, alcohol, and violence in their homes. It was a tiny building with no windows and very little furniture; and there he told me about life on his reservation—the extremely high poverty and unemployment rates that often led to hopelessness, helplessness, alcohol, drugs, violence.

“It was unimaginable to me that a community like this, where people are living in conditions that are worse than those in many developing countries, could exist in the middle of the wealthiest country on this planet.”

As Jane spoke, it was clear the memory of this conversation still upset her. She told me how Robert had said that his people used to be called the caretakers of the land but that over the years they had lost that connection.

“That encounter fifteen years ago led to many more meetings and friendships with some wonderful elders and chiefs throughout the United States and Canada,” Jane said. “I have connected with a number of them on a deep spiritual level.”

“Were you ever able to establish programs on any reservations in the United States?” I asked Jane.

“So far only on one,” she said. “On the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota, another community where alcohol and drugs and suicides are common. It began in an unexpected way. I had organized a gathering of tribal elders to meet with me and some of my staff in South Dakota to discuss how we might start such a youth program. I invited a young man, Jason Schoch, who I’d met a couple of years before during a period when he was deeply depressed. I knew he wanted to draw on his own experiences to reach out and help young people. In the end there was only a very small group of us—none of the local chiefs could attend because of a sudden, unseasonable snowstorm. But there was one young woman who showed up: Patricia Hammond, whose mother was Lakota. Patricia and her family lived on the Pine Ridge Reservation. Even though Patricia hadn’t met Jason before, they spent the entire time we were snowbound planning how to start Roots & Shoots on the reservation. Jason returned to California, where he was working, but—well, when he could no longer afford his nightly calls to Patricia, he moved to South Dakota to join her!”