Zambezi Boarding School girls football squad.
It’s time for Jeff and James to write the blog, so buckle up as we dish the dirt on ZamFam ’25. But first, a poem:
_______________________
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
—————
This poem, by Lebanese poet Khalil Gibran, published in 1923 in his book The Prophet, has been on James’ mind a lot in the past three weeks as we have come to know these 18 unique and wonderful humans during our time in Zambezi.
As you have probably picked up, we have different styles when it comes to our accompaniment of the crew. Jeff tends more towards the side-eye, the incredulous stare, and the biting sarcastic response (e.g. “If ONLY we knew a Zambian who could answer that question!”), while James favours (yes, with a “u”) a bumbling, avuncular, “Well, perhaps you might consider trying this approach. If you like.” But we hope that our deep affection for these fine young people is in no doubt either to them or to you, their tribes. We thought we’d take a moment to share a few lines from Gibran, refracted through the lens of our experiences alongside your students these last few weeks.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts – There’s a tension in parenting (and education, too) between protecting our children/students from the wild world and pushing them towards the challenge and discomfort of experience that will help them to become more fully the people they can be, that will “sharpen” them, in the words of Javez, the taxi driver in Livingstone who ferried us to the Falls and to the airport. In many indigenous societies, learning is more about observation, experience, and application. Indeed, one impromptu encounter with a local here in Zambezi led to a demonstration of how he runs his fishing nets and a reminder that, “experience is the best teacher.” So much of life and instruction is more about course correction than the pre-feast at the Learning Table that characterizes the Western educational paradigm. Many of our students want the clear takeaways of their learning immediately, but that simply isn’t possible in many instances. We’ve both been trying to let the experience lead, knowing that it will take months or even years for the understanding and wisdom to emerge. We cannot give them our thoughts, but we can challenge their thoughts when those stand in the way of seeing the broader picture. We’ve had deep and passionate conversations about healthcare, white saviourism, language, gender roles, taboos, the history of Christian missionaries in this region, and so much more, and we hope they will continue these conversations with you on their return.
You may strive to be like them – While some of the ZamFam–some occasionally and some quite frequently–ask questions which they could probably answer for themselves if they had time to give it more thought, in general they have stepped up and leaned into the highly ambiguous flow of daily life and polychronic approach to time here. It’s been a while since we heard anyone say, “So-and-so was late for our appointment,” for example. In other words, they’ve adapted to their surroundings and quickly set aside their cultural training as they’ve sought to understand the community in which they are immersed. As much as we mentally (and actually) roll our eyes at times, we have both commented on the fact that we were barely a fraction as self-aware, generous of spirit, and accomplished at their age. Each day at lunchtime, we listen to one of them read their blog post, and then hear the comments that you, their parents and siblings and grandparents and friends and cheerleaders, post in response. We are constantly taken aback, as we know you have been, by the depth of their insights and the joy, compassion, and vulnerability they exhibit as they get to know each other and experience life in the community we are fortunate to be a part of for this brief time.
Their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow – Each evening after dinner we sit and reflect on the themes from our readings and the inevitable tensions our days’ experiences offer for our consideration. We imagine this ZamFam in the house of tomorrow, which we cannot visit, recalling memories from this time and pondering the beauty and humanity of the people they knew here, and questioning a world which allows such an unequal distribution of resources. We know from having combined for over four decades of work at Gonzaga that our students go on to do amazing work in the world (some of you seem to be prime examples!), and so we also know that the moments of young adulthood when we struggle with tensions and have to parse the complexities of life together, those moments accrete to inform the people we will become. We have no doubt that your already great Zags, will use this time in Zambia to continue becoming the fullest, richest versions of themselves. And, perhaps they will someday encourage their children, too, to seek out experiences beyond their comfort zones, and slowly create a world of gladness and stability.
Your children are not your children. – We have all been changed by this experience. At the very least, our understanding of humanity and human resilience has deepened. We have witnessed the strange become normal for us, and the normal become strange. When we meet, or when your children and friends return to you, we may not be able to articulate the full complexity of the experience, but we will be able to tell you about individuals we’ve met who welcomed us into their lives and laughed with us, or sometimes at us. We will be able to describe the simple joy of planting cabbage in Chipego’s garden and saying silent prayers that it will thrive in the sandy soil. The joy of being handed a newborn baby to weigh and saying a silent prayer that she, too, will fly swift and far. Indeed, in some small way, we hope that your children are, if ever-so-slightly, not the same young people you sent off to SeaTac last month.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. – Many of us see in our children a kind of fulfillment, or a circling back. We want to love them and help shape them and them set them off to a life full of vibrancy, wonder, awe, and joy. James (parent of three adult children) and Jeff (just back from video chatting with a newly minted teenager and a for-one-more-week-eight-year-old) know all too well that anyone who shakes their stick and complains about “kids these days” is likely someone who might not spend much time with young people. Are your Zags loud, sometimes a bit obnoxious, and generally a tad squeamish about spiders, bugs, and bats? Yep. But they’ve also astounded us with their respectful curiosity about others, their deep care for one another, their readiness for an uncomfortable conversation, their excitement for exchanging knowledge with people from vastly different backgrounds than their own, and their profound capacity for compassion. Hot take: If that’s what marks kids these days, Life may just have found its fulness.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. – Thank you, ZamFam parents, for encouraging your children to join the program when it would have been easier and more comforting to keep them close. As the above might suggest, we regularly find ourselves remarking on these students’ insightfulness, curiosity, and care, and we know very well how much of that comes from the embrace of supportive elders. Thank you for the sacrifices you have made, for raising these wonderful children, who have flown so swift and far. As parents, we too know the joy-pain of raising and letting go. And thank you for accompanying us through your appreciative and supportive comments. We feel like we have come to know El padre de Natalie, Brian, Coco, Ozzie and Ali, Elisa and so many more of you. And if you are reading but not commenting, please do: it means the world to know you’re here with us in spirit.
We are eager to continue learning alongside your Zags for the rest of this journey, so please stay tuned, as we hope to have a few special features in the midst of our regularly scheduled programming.
James Hunter, School of Education, Director MA, TESOL
Jeff Dodd, College of Arts and Sciences, English Department
Beautiful, beautiful blog Jeff and James. Made my heart smile:) And Jeff, what the heck do you put in your blogs that make them so good?!? I still think about the one you and Josh wrote last summer!
Signed someone who reads all the blogs *doesn’t comment every time haha* but is definitely there in spirit,
Brynn
Zamfam ‘24
Thank you, James and Jeff, for such a moving and beautifully crafted reflection. Your words, like those of each student blog post, have been a gift to us back home. I find myself so deeply grateful—not only for the commitment you’ve made to be present with our children on this transformative journey, but also for the sacrifices your own families have made to support you while you’re away.
As a parent, this blog post truly resonated. The poem you chose—Gibran’s powerful reminder that our children are not “ours”—captured so much of what I’ve felt during these weeks of watching from afar. Letting go and allowing our kids to be stretched, challenged, and shaped by something bigger than themselves (and bigger than us) is both humbling and awe-inspiring.
I’m so thankful for the care, honesty, and wisdom you’ve shared with the ZamFam and with us. Your perspective as educators and fellow parents is both grounding and inspiring. I especially appreciated your gentle guidance on what we might expect when our children return—how we can continue to support them with patience, presence, and space for the stories, insights, and questions they’ll be carrying home.
Thank you for walking alongside them, for listening deeply, and for creating a space where vulnerability, learning, laughter, and humanity can flourish. I’m so touched by the way you’ve seen and honored each of these students. You’ve helped make this an experience that they—and we—will carry forward for a long, long time.
And Jeff—your words to Brian and me as we said goodbye at SEA, “We will take good care of her,” meant the world to us. You have seemingly lived up to that promise and so much more. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
With heartfelt gratitude,
Sarah Murphy
(Mom of Caroline M., proudly following along)
PS. Caroline M – Katie asked Natalie! I’m counting the days until
we get to drive to SEA and hug you. Love you, caught it! xoxo
Yes to all you said, Sarah. Yep, yep, yep. xoxo
James and Jeff, I do not know either of you, so it would be far too familiar to begin my comment with “Duuuuuuuuudes. Right out the gate with “On Children” from Gibran?! I prefer to start my tears MID-post, thankyouverymuch.” (But if I *did* know you, I would totally say that.)
More truly, and with deep appreciation and respect: thank you, James and Jeff for this post. I didn’t realize how much it would mean to hear from the other-parents in Zambezi. Your words/hot takes are a blanket of comfort (reassurance?) I’m embarrassed to admit I didn’t know I wanted/needed. You get the joy-pain of letting go. So tenderly awesome. I’ve always loved this Gibran poem. The phrases from it reaching me most today: “You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.” This Zag alum who so loves having her daughter also a Zag suspects I might need that reminder sometimes. So thank you. “Bow that is stable” and “for gladness” are the other phrases sticking to my heart in this moment. I strive to be both for you, Mia.
As for James: my bet’s on you using the word “polychronic” in this post (had to Google it). A huge THANK YOU, James, for accompanying our children (who are not children).
As for Jeff: Mia … OMG, he’s *to-tally* Don Gates. 3 parts cerebral/wise-hearted; The rest? all snark. 😉 THANK YOU, Jeff, for accompanying our children (who are not children) … making your own sacrifice of being so far from your own young children. (I hadn’t realized this before your post.)
Lastly to both of you: you mention knowing these students will go on to do amazing work in the world. Well, “takes one to know one,” you two. You are doing AMAZING work in the world! I suspect the modeling, teaching and humanity you are sharing and exchanging with these students will be lifelong touchstones. (Lucia, you too.)
Mia, your smile in the pic above? Gahhhhhh. Miss you so much but so happy to see you smiling! Rest of ZamFam, we’re at the point of this experience where I find I now rejoice in seeing ALL your faces as they become familiar to me through these weeks of pictures and the vulnerable words you’ve shared. In some weird blogosphere way, it feels like all of you are somehow beginning to belong to all of us. And maybe vice/versa. We are with you in spirit (whether we comment or not). xoxo
8:57 PM in Oakland. 5:57 AM in Zambezi.
xoxo,
Elisa/Mia’s Mama
Jeff and James
What an amazing blog reflecting on your time in Zambezi! Reading this post brought back special memories from last year and how I can carry on the lessons from our trip! ZamFam ‘25, you are so lucky to have the best professors to teach while accompanying with you on this trip! I hope you are having an amazing time over there and enjoy your last week in Zambezi!
-Ellie Powers, ZamFam ‘24
As if I wasn’t moved enough by the words of Khalil Gibran, you had to go and make me teary with your wise and beautifully insightful words about what it means to shepherd our children (and you, our students). Thank you for encouraging and guiding our students for this moment in time which will surely change and shape them for years to come. Carly’s dad and I are grateful to you for recognizing the importance of and great value in immersion in other cultures and for inviting these lucky students’ participation. Thank you for serving not only as educators during this adventure, but for also taking on a bit of parenting during this time—yes, our students are adulting, but no doubt some parenting was waiting in the wings when needed!!
Students, how lucky you are to be surrounded by such wisdom and care. How blessed you are to have educators who understand the importance of this trip and are willing to embrace all that comes with it. You are each going to emerge just a little wiser, a little gentler, a little more like Gumby, and hopefully fulfilled and energized by new friendships with your fellow Zags and your new Zambian community!
Thank you, James and Jeff, for increasing my knowledge with the wonderful poem and a few words I had to google to understand.
Thank you for guiding these Zags through this journey of adventure and discovery and for teaching these kids that life happens outside the bubble we so easily try to stay in.
I’m not crying; you’re crying!
James and Jeff – your reflection moved me and leaves me feeling hopeful about our future because there are teachers like you in this world. Thank you for your passion for this project to help our kids see the world with news eyes. Thank you for leaving your families so that you can help our families grow with new insights from our Zags. I know that I’m going to learn so much from Natalie when she returns through the sharing of her stories, her new perspectives and witnessing her new way of moving through the world. The ripple effect of the work that you are doing to enrich our Zags lives’ will be a beautiful thing to witness and will continue to be a change for good for many years to come. Thank you for providing this opportunity for our children and for guiding them on this journey!
James and Jeff – I echo the sentiments expressed by my fellow commentors – what a beautiful reflection that had me in a puddle at my desk this morning.
Your words about experience versus a “pre feast at the learning table” summarizes what is probably going to be one of the biggest takeaways for the Zags in Zambia. It’s a beautiful thing to watch out children bloom and grow into amazing human beings.
Love you Kathleen – 7 more days until I can hug you and not let you go – for a very very awkward period of time 🙂
In August, 2018, Deborah J. Cohan, Ph.D., professor of sociology at the University of South Carolina wrote an article for Psychology Today. Based upon her many conversations with college students, she authored a “Dear Mom & Dad” letter containing what all of us parents should hear from our college-aged kids. The following section hits home, “You’ve gotten me this far. For that, I thank you. Now, let me go. Not in a sink-or-swim way. But in a way that you’ll show me you want to see me try out this thing called life on my own terms and see what happens. Maybe Buddhist philosophy offers us something here – we need to be not too tight and not too loose. As I loosen my grip on everything that is familiar here at home, please loosen your tendency to want to grip on to the new me that is emerging. This is my launch, my flight. I may crash, but I probably won’t. So please don’t try to live it for me. Let me move to my edge. To that farthest place where I might really grow and stretch, and where my life might shift in extraordinary new ways.”
Alea has shown her strength and willingness to stretch from early on. The decision to move from Kansas City to the northwest was only the beginning. As we often discussed, “College is not just for job prep, it’s for life prep.” Her decision to travel to Zambia was more of her desire to grow and stretch.
May we all appreciate how these wonderful young people (always our kids) are evolving into their true beings and their desire to understand so much more. Thank you James and Jeff. You are certainly the map for their journey. You show them the way and then it’s up to them to travel down the road (or off road, if they see fit).
Thank you for this wonderful post James and Jeff. (Although i have to admit I had to look up “accrete“ and when I did I also had to look up coalescence;-) it is wonderful to see how you tied everything back from lines of the poem. The part that struck me the most was “They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. – Many of us see in our children a kind of fulfillment, or a circling back. We want to love them and help shape them and then set them off to a life full of vibrancy, wonder, awe, and joy.” You are right, I think we as parents especially in today’s world want to have our kiddos experience what shaped us, but then do it better. I know this Zambezi experience will be wonderful in so many ways and probably will influence their future lives in ways we will only discover later in their adult lives. I can only hope it will set them off for a life of joy, wonder and awe!
Care Care: I write this from my last night in Ireland. Seanie left early this morning for London. I cant wait to het home to Mom and Jackie boy! Love you so much! (Emoji: Love You, Shaka, Rock On, I win!)
P.S. Did you score a goal??
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Jeff and James! I whole-heartedly second what has already been said. We could not be more grateful for your wisdom, insight, care, guidance and tolerance for our Zags throughout this experience of a lifetime!
Thank you, James and Jeff, for the honest and inspiring, yet challenging blog entry. We are so grateful that you are there with our young adults as they experience, learn from, reflect on, and truly take in this life-altering journey. Appreciate the poem you chose and your comments related to this ZamFam to put it all into perspective.
One sentence that really hit home: “As parents, we too know the joy-pain of raising and letting go.” Nothing but truth in that paradox….
Sean, so excited to welcome you home and hear from you the most enlightening and heartfelt moments of the trip. I hope that we will have the time for some good discussions. And… not gonna lie …. there is a part of my momma-heart that aches as we approach June 16… because June 18 follows close behind, and you will be spreading your wings in a very tangible way. (Ok, momma, breathe deep) You’ve got this, my SonSean — Don’t just fly, SOAR.
Just saw the added content — can’t wait to read – and LISTEN – but that will have to be later tonight. Signing off with a hug!