An inspirational Story of how a determined Zimbabwean wife and mother of two achieved her long awaited dream to get a Masters Degree at a world renowned University when she was awarded a fully paid scholarship. It got me inspired so I hope it inspires you too!
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| Sarah Bosha, with her husband, Otis Bosha and her two kids, Jonathan and Ruvarashe. |
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| Sarah Bosha |
Lo and behold there it was in front of my eyes; an email
from the University of Notre Dame accepting me into their international human
rights law scholarship program for 2013. I was stunned. I was breathless. I read it over
and over again savoring every word, especially “pleased to offer you.” I, a
wife, mother of two energetic toddlers and public prosecutor, was about journey
across the globe to fulfill a seven-year-old dream!
But first I had to get there.
Step one was easy: accept the offer by email and relish in
telling friends and family, especially my mom who was living vicariously
through me, that finally it had happened and what a prestigious university I
had been accepted to.
Step two however, getting the visas, was something of a mission. All the spook stories I heard of people being
turned down for some unattainable unidentifiable reason loomed large as my
family and I waited for our interviews to come. Would they allow us to go
together, or would they decide that I didn’t need my family to be with me on
this journey?
Will my family be allowed to join me?
Will my family be allowed to join me?
I agonized at 2 a.m. over how to respond to difficult questions I might be asked, like why the whole
family should go instead of just me. My husband, on the other hand, slept like
a baby and every answer to me was, “It will be fine.”
Finally, the day came and my family and I got bundled up
against the cold and assembled outside the U.S. Embassy in Harare. We
handed in our papers and waited outside patiently. Then, our first encounter
with bad luck. I hadn’t booked interviews for my toddlers, and each and every
applicant, yes even the 15-month-old, needed to have an appointment. So
here was the choice: either go in alone or come back with your whole family on
another day. I chose to go in alone.
After being ushered through security, I started questioning
my decision. What if the immigration officer thought that if I could go
to the interview alone I could certainly go to America alone? I figured they
had some expert psychology training that would make them reach such conclusions
– watching too much 24 was making me
paranoid!
As I sat and waited with other visa hopefuls, we discussed
in hushed tones what could lead to a denial. I had my I-20 form, full
tuition and a living allowance, but the horror stories being exchanged started
to fray my nerves. Finally my turn came, and to my surprise the officer
spoke in a friendly tone while asking what I was to study and my plans after
that, and looking at my papers. This was not the interrogation I had been
anticipating all week. I was a little thrown off but relieved. After
a few other personal questions, and furious typing of my responses into his
computer, he took my passport, gave me a yellow receipt, and told me to come
and collect my passport the following day. I was elated! But what about my
family?
My husband and children’s interview day came about 10 days later,
and I wasn’t allowed into the embassy with them – a fact that was communicated
to me by a lady sitting behind a glass window – so I went to attend my
pre-departure orientation and switched off my phone. As soon as it was
lunchtime, I called my husband. It had all gone well; they had visas. A wave of
relief swept over me.
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| Sarah Bosha at her Graduation with her Family and Friends |
So we all got our visas, mine and the children’s expiring in
May 2013, and my husband’s visa expiring in July 2014. Why his visa is
longer than mine when his was only issued because I had one is some
inexplicable outcome that I just couldn’t fathom, except that God has a great
sense of humor.
Small
children on a plane
It was the third step to getting to the U.S. that I was most
dreading – getting two small children 1,000 km on a combination of buses and
planes.
I packed “teddy” and a multitude of snacks for the first leg
of the trip, a bus journey to Johannesburg. Twelve hours later when we
finally made it to Johannesburg (thanks to a seven-hour delay on the border
because immigration officials were on a “go slow” protest), I had run out of
snacks, it was stifling hot, “teddy” was no longer an interesting distraction
and my 15-month-old had gained at least 5 kg in my arms standing in that long,
winding queue at the border!
Now it was on to a grueling 18-hour flight. This time I
would pack a double multitude of snacks; I wasn’t going to be caught unawares!
Sadly, “teddy” was forgotten on the bus and was not to accompany us to America.
The Johannesburg-to-London flight was uneventful, with my
precious children obediently falling asleep upon take off and sleeping all the
way through. As we took our seats for the Heathrow-to-Chicago flight, an
unassuming woman in her mid-forties was ushered to a seat next to ours.
When she beheld my 15-month-old daughter and three-year-old son, her face
morphed into a mixture of pain and absolute horror at the idea of spending
eight hours on a plane next to two screaming toddlers. They were angels now but
surely they would scream, and soon.
She immediately, gruffly and quietly, though not quietly
enough, told the flight attendant, “You have to find me somewhere else to sit.
I am not sitting here.” Once her seat was moved and her anger had subsided,
embarrassment began to creep in and she apologetically told me, “You know, I am
a mother too and I have children. It’s just that I can’t really deal with this
today.” I smiled coolly and told her I understood, but when my two children
fell peacefully asleep on takeoff, I smugly thought, “Take that you rude
American woman!”
Would all Americans say the first thing that came into their
minds without considering the listener’s feelings? I certainly hoped not.
Sadly, my smug victory was short-lived, as after a power nap of 30 minutes, my
two woke up and became a riotous pair of uncomfortable crying babies.
We eventually made it safely to O’Hare Airport, but not
without one final adventure. Just as the fasten seatbelt sign had been turned
on for landing, my daughter decided this was the perfect time for her to have a
long overdue bowel movement that was punctuated with loud passing of wind and a
stench to match, which left me absolutely sinking in my seat with shame! All I
can say is that was the longest descent and landing of all time.
After changing my daughter in the plane’s lavatory and going
safely through immigration and passport control, I felt a sense of excitement
and relief. I had arrived into the United States of America and my path to a
long unfulfilled dream was on its way to realization – a Master’s degree from
Notre Dame and a better future as a human rights lawyer. But for now I
was pretty pleased with just surviving my journey across the globe.
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| Sarah Bosha graduated with a Masters in Human Rights Law from the University of Notre Dam, USA |
