Translator: Sebastian Betti Reviewer: Gisela Giardino
Seven years ago I was in Santiago del Estero presenting a book
and I was approached by a boy I didn't know.
His name was Nestor and he was born in a town of 700 inhabitants.
Today, there is still no electricity or water in his town.
His dream was to become an agronomist,
but since there was not even one secondary school in town,
when he finished elementary school, he went to a shelter school 60 km away
to get closer to his dream.
Now that he was finishing it,
he realized that his dream was still far away,
for he had no chance
of going to the cities where universities were located.
He looked at me that day and said,
"What can you do to help me become an engineer?"
I went back to Buenos Aires, I didn't share this with anyone.
Within a few days, a company called us
to say that they would donate a house
and that they will build it any place in the country we want.
That house and Nestor's question gave rise to a new project:
residence halls for "Fundación Sí".
What are they?
They are large houses in the cities where universities
are located so that young people from remote rural areas of Argentina
have the chance of living there completely for free
and study.
When we started we thought that by solving the distance
and resources issues the problem was solved.
We were completely wrong.
The academic level they leave secondary school with is so low,
we found out that the kids didn't understand what they read.
We had to add tuition, tutors, educational psychologists --
and then it began to improve.
But as we got deeper,
we saw that they came with very hard stories
affecting their academic performance.
High rates of abuse, violence, neglect.
We had to bring in psychologists, support volunteers
and then it started moving forward.
Today, we have 13 residence halls
and in 2020 there will be 464 young people living in them.
Sabri was born in a very small town in northern Santa Fe.
At 12, every Monday
she walked 40 km to get to the school
where she lived all week in order to attend secondary school.
She was the first in town to finish high school.
When she was finishing, she'd hear the rest of his classmates
saying "I'm going to be an engineer", "I'm going to be a vet",
"I'm going to be a teacher".
And she would say, "I want".
Because the distance between being able and wanting was enormous.
Today, she studies Industrial Engineering.
That is called will power.
We called Selena for an interview
to participate during a selection process in La Rioja --
she lives in a town 200 km away --
That early morning the only bus that goes through town didn't show up.
We don't know why.
Far from giving up,
knowing that it was the only opportunity she had,
she started knocking on every neighbors' door
who she knew to have a car,
begging if anyone understood her and could take her to the city.
One neighbor understood and took her.
Today, she studies medicine.
That is called conviction.
(Applause)
When Mili heard about the project --
Mili is from San Salvador Maza, in northern Salta,
on the border with Bolivia --
we had no more room in Salta residence.
We had only one place left and it was in Neuquen.
2300 km from her home. We offered it to her.
Obviously, we thought she was going to say no.
But her answer surprised us.
"To study, I will go any place in the country."
That is called courage.
(Applause)
Two years ago, Micaela joined the residence hall.
She wanted to study Economic Sciences.
I've never seen someone study that much in my life.
We gave her all kinds of support you can imagine.
She could never take the application test.
Three weeks ago,
she wrote us asking to sign up again,
this time to study something else.
Education.
There's a small fragment of her letter
that would like to share with you today:
"I decided to study Education Sciences
because I had the need to understand,
to find answers to my "why",
but mostly because my niece is one year old today
and that was the big push.
She's going to grow up in the same house as me,
in the same place as me, she will go to my same school,
and maybe also my sister --
her mother --
will have to chart with a stick and a shovel --
like my parents did every time the holidays ended --
the 3 mile path that had been deserted for months
for us to return to school.
Mom always noted her desire for a better future for us,
but she trusted it to our school.
I would like the education in my town
to improve because as well as my nephews, more children were born.
And as I know the truth because I lived it,
I don't want to keep sowing false hopes.
Those who break the rules and want to go on studying
know that the road will be hard,
it's almost to start almost from scratch.
And of course you can do it and with much effort some succeed.
But that is the problem, that many succeed, but not all."
Mica clearly explains why we do what we do.
The whole project is entirely carried out by volunteers,
who are very different from each other,
but share the same essence.
Why we do it?
Because we are completely convinced
of the power of transformation of human beings.
And if we have this power, we have this responsibility.
Because studying cannot be a privilege for some,
it has to be a right for everyone.
(Applause)
For kids to find out about this project,
we cannot notify them either by phone or the Internet.
We travel to the farthest schools,
we have more than 1456 schools visited.
When we arrive, do you know what we find?
Kids don't even know which careers exist.
"What does a music teacher do?" they ask.
The first thing we have to do is tell them what the options are.
No one can choose what they like if they don't know what exists.
And I said choose.
Choosing, something that for us is normal,
for them is completely unthinkable.
The place where we are born cannot be an impediment
for those who want to continue studying.
Nestor, the kid we spoke about at the beginning,
who came to ask us what we could do for him,
two months ago took his last exam to become an engineer.
Today he is in Spain doing his thesis.
Not to stay there, but to return here
and put everything he learned to the service of the development of his town.
Because he knows where he comes from and knows the responsibility he has today.
Because each of these kids is not just transforming their family.
They also transform their peers' in their communities.
School dropout levels is very high because kids
feel that whether they finish school or not, their fate is written.
When they see that a kid who lived just like they do,
in the same mud house, and he could make it,
they see that they can make it, too.
And then, each of these students,
are a clear sign of hope,
a clear example that they can do it.
Every time I talk with them it touches me deep
because I see that not even the most difficult stories
made them give up,
because they stand with their desires intact,
and when I see the effort and will they put
in spite of the few tools they were given,
they reaffirm the huge faith I have in the new generations.
Let nothing and no one, kids, come tell you that you cannot.
The house where Nestor lives today is managed by Flor.
Flor also studied in that residence and graduated living there.
The day Flor joined in to live in that house, she told us:
"I have to choose today: I buy a bag of rice or buy a book,
I cannot buy both".
Today, she works of what she loves.
Today, she rents and she pays her rent with her paycheck.
That is called breaking the circle of poverty forever.
That is called dignity.
And Flor today, manages the residence voluntarily
because she wants others to have the same possibility she had.
In order to hack poverty, you need will power, yes,
you need conviction and you need courage.
But without opportunities it's impossible.
Talking about the next 10 years or talking about the future
makes no sense if we don't rethink the education system
and the opportunities that all of us
who make up this society, provide.
If we have the power, we have the responsibility.
Everyone. It is up to us.
(Applause)