Big Dreamin

In almost all those small, second and third level college classes, there comes a time when the professor will make everyone go around the room and state their aspiration for the future. And there comes a point when everyone is awkwardly giving their answer that you realize that your answer isn’t quite like the other students. Being a dreaded and self proclaimed finance major, I hear a lot of responses that sound something like, “Start my own consulting firm!” or “Get hired by a major accounting company!” And after about ten students have gone, you realize that you probably shouldn’t let tell the class that your main goal for the future is to find a way to live in a tree house.

And the rest of the world likes to call aspirations like that ‘illogical dreams’ because, well, no one actually lives in a treehouse, probably because it is not practical and it’s hard to find a way to get a refrigerator up there and forest fires pose more of a threat then if you lived, say, on the ground. But you know, when I close my eyes at night or the bus ride gets long, its just not my style to daydream of high heels and gray skirts and office jobs. Those corporate job dreamers aren’t wrong. Power to them for being so logically minded. I just hope they aren’t ever too afraid to admit that they want to open a bakery or be an astronaut or a dolphin trainer. Because, I don’t know. Dreams don’t cost a thing. And sometimes, they come true.

Last week I had the opportunity to stay with Tswana people in the Okavango Delta in Botswana. (Pause here for a moment to recall that dreams sometimes do come true and my adventuresome heart had a spring break that could never be duplicated.) Anyways, the delta is a swamp, a freshwater marsh land where the only way to travel is to boat around in a small canoe (makoro) steered by a someone (poler) with a big stick (pole). Stewart was a poler, someone who was paid to take blonde Americans about on the makoros and make sure they got out of the water if there was a hippo sighting. Poling our way through the wetlands of Botswana, this is how nineteen year old Stewart and I met.

Polers quickly become friends. Because when you are in the middle of the delta with no electricity, no buildings and no roads, you need someone to tell you that there was an elephant outside the tent yesterday, so you probably shouldn’t go to the bathroom at night. And when you are in a country you don’t know, with a language and currency that doesn’t make much sense, it feels good when you can sing and dance and talk with someone who has this lifestyle figured out. Or at least more figured out then you do.

So, one night around that rancid smelling fire (unfortunately, elephant dung burns really well,) Stewart and I talked. And I asked him my favorite question: “What is your dream? If you could have or do or be anything in the whole world, what would that look like?”
His answer gave me the same feeling that I get when my fellow classmates back home in Colorado tell me that the craziest aspiration that they can dream up is to be a tax attorney with good insurance.

“I try not to really dream,” Stewart told me, eyes closed, voice low around that sticky fire. “Things like dreams don’t really happen here.”
I urged him on, though. I said, “Well, what if they could? What about… travelling. If you could go any place in the whole world where would you want to be?”

He thought for a few moments, threw some more dung on the fire. “I would go to Northern Botswana. I would be a miner. Miners make a lot of pula. But they die young, young. But that’s ok, I guess. I could send pula home.”
Now I was even more frustrated. He didn’t understand the point of my game, how he was supposed to play. He was supposed to dream big and tell me he wanted to meet Kanye West or buy a house in LA or direct a movie. I didn’t want him to want to be a miner.

“Stewart, I want to live in a treehouse. That’s my dream.” He laughed. Everyone always laughs. Then he asked how I would get a refrigerator up a tree. Everyone always seems to ask that, too.

“Ella!” he said, and he rolled the L’s like the Tswana greeting: Dumela, ma! “You don’t understand. It’s hard to dream. It makes a man sad to wake up in the morning with a want in his heart and know that he will never get that want. I am happy now. I have friends and I am strong and I know how to laugh and I am alive. What more dreams could I want?”

Oh, Stewart, he broke my heart with that speech. Someone without a thing but a boat and a tent wants nothing. Beautifully selfless, and perfectly content. But at the same time, stationary in this world that seems to be travelling a million kilometers per hour.

I felt so guilty then, for making him think about things he could never have, dreams he would never be able to hold. Maybe everyone back home was right, maybe those logical aspirations were the only thing that were going to keep your heart from getting broken. But oh! I had been such a firm believer in the idea of being slightly irrational. That if you wanted something then maybe one day it would happen. I mean I live in Africa! I have ridden an elephant and jumped down a waterfall! Was it so wrong for such farfetched dreams? My right brained self panicked.

There are a lot of stars in that Botswana sky and I went to sleep that night with a few more wishes then I had the night before. I hoped for some of Stewart’s content in my own restless heart. And I couldn’t help but still wishing for my treehouse. But most of all, I prayed that there would never be anything that Stewart would be too afraid to dream.

After a few nights in the Okavango, the time came to head back to main land: to find a road and see a car and buy some much needed food. The journey across the delta in a makoro is a long one, but eventually, mainland was spotted and we piled wet sleeping bags into the overland truck. We hugged polers good bye because now we were brothers and sisters. As I climbed into that truck, Stewart grabbed my arm. He said, "Big dreams don't hurt, right?" I shook my head no, a little confused to where this was going. He smiled really big at me, then laughed, “I want to date Avril Lavigne!”