The Book of Hope: A Survival Guide for Trying Times(37)
Jane told me that the program had spread throughout Burundi, and not long after that evening we spent by the fireplace, she sent me a recent batch of letters she had received from Roots & Shoots members there. One child, Juslaine, wrote, “A long time ago Burundian people didn’t know the importance of working together, but now we are working together as one family due to the seminars given by the leaders of Roots & Shoots Burundi.” Another boy, Oscar, wrote, “We no more live in troubles because each year we celebrate the international peace day. Now we are living peacefully with our neighbors.”
Jane told me that one of the ex–child soldiers, David Ninteretse, inspired many volunteers from the communities to initiate Tacare-type programs that encouraged people to start small businesses. He also got volunteers to start Roots & Shoots groups in schools, many of which decided to plant trees to combat deforestation. A boy named Eduard said, “My village was like a desert, but now trees are found everywhere, and the rain comes regularly.” Other children commented on how there are no more forest fires, how the air is fresh, and the animals have returned to the forest, as the hunting stopped.
“You see,” said Jane, “they learn that everything is interconnected, and that their community is not just the people around them but also the animals and plants and the land itself.”
I thought of what Robert White Mountain had said about how his tribe was at one time the caretakers of the land but that over the years they had lost that connection. Jane said she had heard that he was trying to revive that connection by creating a large community garden. I thought about the young girl in juvenile detention, who had turned her life around after reading Jane’s book, and about Hellman, who had survived shocking neglect. I thought about how important it is to nurture young people in a way that cultivates hope and empowers them to meet the challenges of the future. They are certainly inheriting many. While I was convinced that young people were an important reason for hope, I could see clearly our adult responsibility to leave them the most thriving and sustainable world.
It was late evening now and we still had one more reason for hope to cover. Jane suggested we pause our conversation here and pick it up again in the morning. It was hard for me to stop. I’d been looking forward to discussing Jane’s next reason for hope—a reason we can still find even when there seemingly is none. I agreed to return in the morning and set off in the dark night to my lodge where I was staying near Jane’s cabin.
Children in the Republic of the Congo on UN International Day of Peace, flying a Giant Peace Dove (Roots & Shoots groups do this all over the world, using old bedsheets) and going to a tree planting project. (JANE GOODALL INSTITUTE/FERNANDO TURMO)
REASON 4: THE INDOMITABLE HUMAN SPIRIT
I met up with Jane the next morning. Jane was staying in the cabin with Patrick van Veen, the Jane Goodall Institute’s global chairman, and his wife, Dani?lle, and their two dogs. I joined her in waving goodbye to Patrick and Dani?lle, who again had kindly agreed to go off for the day with the dogs to give Jane and me time alone. Once again, we settled down by the fire with our mugs of coffee, eager to resume our conversation.
“I was thinking about this last night,” I began, “and I thought that before we talk about your last reason for hope—the indomitable human spirit—I’m interested to know how you define ‘spirit.’”
Jane thought for a moment and then she said, “Nobody’s ever asked me that before. I think different people will define this very differently depending on their upbringing, education, and religion. I can only tell you what it means to me. It’s my energy force, an inner strength that comes from my sense that I am connected to the great spiritual power that I feel so strongly—especially when I’m in nature.”
I asked Jane if that sense of “the great spiritual power” comes to her especially when she is in Gombe.
She nodded. “Oh yes, absolutely. And once when I was alone in the forest, I suddenly thought that perhaps there was a spark of that spiritual power in all life. We humans, with our passion for defining things, have named that spark in ourselves as our soul or spirit or psyche. But as I sat there, embraced by all the wonder of the forest, it seemed that that spark animated everything from the butterflies that fluttered past to the giant trees with their garlands of vines.
“When we were discussing the human intellect the other day, I spoke about how indigenous people, including many Native Americans, talk about the Creator and see animals and flowers and trees and even rocks as their brothers and sisters. I love this way of seeing life.”
I was intrigued by that description and wondered aloud how the world might be different if all humans saw other beings and even rocks as worthy of respect and care as our siblings would be.
“A better world, I imagine,” Jane said. “But of course we don’t really know how it would be different. At least not yet.”
I couldn’t help but smile at Jane’s reliably hopeful “yet” at the end of the sentence, which brought me back to the discussion of the day before. “What do you mean by the indomitable human spirit?” I asked. “And why does it give you hope?”
Jane stared into the fire for a few seconds before answering. “It’s that quality in us that makes us tackle what seems impossible and never give up. Despite the odds, despite the scorn or mocking of others, despite possible failure. The grit and determination to overcome personal problems, physical disability, abuse, discrimination. The inner strength and courage to pursue a goal at any cost to self in a fight for justice and for freedom. Even when it means paying the ultimate price of giving up one’s life.”