A Piece of Cake

The sweetest lesson wasn’t on the English teaching curriculum

“Consolata’s birthday is Saturday. We will give her a special celebration.”

Seven graduates of SEGA Girls’ School have joined our group of American volunteers to teach English to the school’s newest class. Separately, I’m working with the graduates on their LinkedIn strategies. It’s allowed me to become a bit of a big sister to the group.

My reply is immediate. “I’ll figure out how to get a cake.”

After several graduations and birthdays in Tanzania, I’ve learned that cake is the ultimate way to celebrate someone. The cake is cut into small, bite-sized cubes and fed to each guest by the celebrant, using a toothpick.

Hearing the idea, the ladies erupt in cheer.

Then I realize that all of us—90 new students, selected staff members, volunteers and the seven graduates—will be on a Saturday safari. Perhaps we can incorporate a cake into the lunch. One inquisitive text leads me to Isabella and Elizabeth, just the right people to help.

“Do you want to see the cake?” asks Elizabeth.

Following a morning of game drives, our large group has taken over a picnic area in the park. Elizabeth leads me to one of the buses and pulls out a box containing an extremely tall cake. How has it survived hours on a Tanzanian highway, the dirt roads of a game park, and the afternoon heat? No idea.

I alert the graduates to the cake’s secret location. We have a knife, but no toothpicks. Apparently this is a small issue. There is a lot of back-and-forth in Swahili.

“Ladies, why don’t we present the cake here, but you can take it back to SEGA to enjoy?” I suggest.

I’m imagining how long it might take to cut and distribute cake to such a large group. We volunteers are heading out for one more short game drive before spending the night at a lodge in the park. Everyone else will return to the school.

The graduates insist. “No, you must be here for the cutting of the cake.”

One of them runs back to a bus and emerges with a blindfolded Consolata, guiding her to the central table. She removes the blindfold, and everyone erupts into several rounds of “Happy Birthday!” Seeing the towering cake inscribed with her name, she buries her face in her hands.

There’s a moment of pause.

It occurs to me that this might be her first birthday cake. I can more confidently say that this is her largest birthday party.

Stella says a few words to honor her friend while Loiness cuts the cake. I’m trying to take as many photos as possible. My height proves an advantage.

Following tradition, the celebrant enjoys the first piece of cake. The graduates find one long toothpick and ask me to feed the first bite to Consolata. Then they call up the volunteers in order of rank—our group leaders Clarke and Tina, board member Rod, followed by the rest of us.

I join the volunteers as we quietly make our way back to our bus. As we pull away, I watch the graduates execute their plan to share the cake with everyone. It has been divided into three sections, one for each bus of students and staff.

After dinner that evening, I look through my photos from the day. There are close-ups of favorite animals, group shots with students, and the sunset we enjoyed from our lodge atop a kopje.

I stop at the birthday celebration.

I keep coming back to the faces in the background.

These are the newest SEGA students. They’ve been at school for just two weeks. Most arrived not knowing a soul. It’s been an avalanche of new experiences—new buildings, new schedules, new routines and one central language, English, which they must quickly become comfortable speaking.

For many, it’s their first time sleeping in their own bed. Each night, they crawl under the covers in a room filled with bunk beds and strangers.

Two weeks is exactly when homesickness might be setting in.

And here they are, watching Consolata, Stella and Loiness celebrate a friendship that has survived their own graduation from SEGA.

I wonder what these new students are thinking as they watch. Perhaps they’re imagining themselves a few years from now, surrounded by friends they’ve yet to make.

Friends who will celebrate their birthdays. Who will find them a cake. Who will insist that everyone gets a piece.

That evening, I crawl under the covers of my cozy lodge bed.

I fall asleep with my favorite memory of the day.

I’m enjoying a full Fall of global travel that is centered on reconnecting with the places and people I love. Expect more stories like this to follow.