In June 2024, 14 children from the children's village embarked on a two-day trip to Ajery Kahise’s tree farm. Just as in the previous year, we volunteers were once again honored to join them and experience the breathtaking landscapes of Mount Kilolo. Last year, our predecessor Lotta had shared a detailed account of the 2023 holiday trip—this year, we’re happy to tell you about it again, but from a different perspective: that of Ajery Kahise himself. Ajery is a former child from the children's village who, after a difficult childhood, has now built a stable and meaningful life for himself. I met him after the camping trip and had the privilege of hearing his life story. I’d now like to share it with you.
Ajery Kahise’s tree farm lies nestled in the highlands of Kilolo—hidden away and secluded, surrounded by lush, evergreen nature. From Iringa, it’s a good 2.5-hour drive through the village of Ng’ang’ange, where Ajery once attended school. He calls this place his home, even though his family’s house stood farther away, perched on a hill. Back then, he had to walk 15 kilometers each day—there and back—to get to primary school in Ng’ang’ange. When Ajery was seven years old, his father passed away. His mother was left alone with him and his siblings. On our way to the farm, we passed the site of his childhood home—now gone, but once surrounded by fields used for farming. After completing his first seven years of primary school (which in Tanzania is free), Ajery, now 15, faced a difficult question: what comes next? For his single mother, paying for secondary school—necessary to earn a diploma and eventually pursue higher education—was simply impossible. Ajery told me he realized he had to take responsibility for his own future. He began searching for work and eventually found a job with an American man who ran a farm near Kilolo, raising sheep and cows and cultivating vegetable fields. The man allowed Ajery to live on the farm and work as a herder—what Ajery called a “cow boy.” “I asked him not to pay me,” Ajery recalled, “but to save the money and use it to fund one year of school for me after a year of work.” The American—whom Ajery affectionately called “The American guy”—welcomed him gladly in 2002. And true to his word, after a year, he made it possible for Ajery to attend secondary school. In the summer holidays of 2003, Ajery returned to the farm—only to find the American man injured, with a spinal injury. He was planning to return to the United States for better medical care. It was then that Ursula Lettgen, who was at the time building the children’s village in Kilolo, visited the American. She knew about his health condition and asked him: *Who will take care of this boy if you leave?* Since transferring money from the U.S. to Tanzania for Ajery’s school fees was complicated, Ursula offered to take Ajery into her children’s village. And so, for the next seven years, Ajery lived with Mama Ursula—first in Kilolo, and later, after the relocation, in the new children’s village in Mbigili. He was able to continue his education, finished school successfully, and in his free time, helped her build the new home. When his school years ended, Ajery moved into Ursula’s house in Iringa. He stayed with her through the difficult years when her health declined—when she began to suffer from memory lapses, and eventually had to return to Germany permanently. Ursula Lettgen passed away in September 2010. When I asked Ajery how he remembers her, his expression softened. He looked into the distance, thoughtful and deeply moved. “She was a very caring and empathetic woman. Whenever Mama Ursula saw a problem, she didn’t just see it—she felt it, as if it were her own. I can tell you this about her: she was a good woman.” And in that moment, standing on the quiet, green slopes of his own farm—where he now grows trees, builds homes, and gives hope to children just like he once was—Ajery Kahise wasn’t just a former child of the village. He was proof that love, resilience, and a single act of kindness can change a life—and, in turn, change a whole community.
In the house in Iringa, Ajery continued working as a gardener and gatekeeper, taking care of the dogs and living there in return. After his initial plan to study to become a teacher fell through, he began studying Social Work in 2011. His program, called *Community Development* (Gemeinschaftsentwicklung in German), culminated in him earning his Bachelor’s degree in 2016. To this day, he works for a non-governmental organization (NGO) actively engaged in community development, dedicating his life to empowering communities, supporting vulnerable children, and fostering sustainable growth—just as he once was supported.
For his studies, Ajery was given a laptop by the children's village, which he affectionately called his “source of income.” He began offering his services to friends and fellow students—taking on computer tasks, translating texts, printing documents, and charging a small fee for each job. Over time, he managed to save some money and began thinking carefully about how to use it wisely. Driven by a deep passion for nature, he purchased a piece of forest land near his hometown of Ng’ang’ange. “I thought to myself: if I ever run out of money, I’ll just harvest the forest and sell the timber,” he recalls with a smile. By the time he finished his studies, he had already bought 40 acres of land—and more followed. Today, he owns nearly 100 acres (about 40 hectares) of diverse land, including pine forests, banana plantations, mixed woodlands, and ample space for vegetable farming. Now, he’s actively experimenting and growing: planting vegetables, recently starting beekeeping, and currently building a fish pond. He works alongside four young men and two university students, who each have their own plots of land on the farm where they grow their own vegetables. Ajery’s journey—from a child who once walked 15 kilometers a day to school, to a self-reliant farmer, community developer, and mentor to others—stands as a powerful testament to resilience, gratitude, and the lasting impact of a safe home and a second chance.
The idea to bring children from the children's village to his farm came up during a board meeting. Alberto, another former child of the village, asked the group: *“How do we shape the future for our children? How can we show them the world beyond these walls?”* Ajery shared his own journey and vision—telling of his tree farm project and suggesting that we acquire camping equipment and organize trips where children and youth could plant trees, learn about forests and tree species, and experience firsthand how he had built his life and his land from the ground up. Now, for the second year in a row, children from the village have visited Ajery’s farm. They’ve learned about the different types of trees, the importance of sustainable forestry, and the value of hard work and long-term planning. But more than that, they’ve been inspired—by Ajery’s story, his dedication, and his belief that every child can shape their own future. Through these visits, Ajery doesn’t just teach about nature—he teaches hope, responsibility, and the power of turning dreams into reality. And in doing so, he’s helping the next generation of children from the village see that their future isn’t just possible—it’s already within reach.
I experienced Ajery as a deeply passionate, open-hearted, and loyal person—one who feels a strong personal connection to the children from the children's village and is genuinely committed to sharing his life story and lessons with them. He recounted his journey in remarkable detail, remembering not only the key events but also the exact years and months when they happened. It was clear that he is acutely aware of the difficult circumstances into which he was born—circumstances that, for many of his neighbors in the village, would have defined a life of hardship and limited opportunity. Yet Ajery recognized the rare chance he was given to choose a different path—and he seized it with determination. He didn’t just survive; he thrived, built something meaningful, and now wants the same for the children who come after him. Through our conversation, I carried away a powerful sense of gratitude and pride—not just for what he has achieved, but for the humility and warmth with which he speaks about it. He lives in Iringa with his wife and their two-year-old daughter, and despite his success, he has remained steadfastly loyal to the children's village. He continues to contribute, to guide, and to inspire—proving that a safe home, a little support, and a lot of belief in a child’s potential can change everything. His message to the children is clear: *Don’t let life just happen to you—take it into your own hands and shape a good future. You have the power to do it.* And in his life, that message isn’t just words—it’s a living truth.
Ajery’s story deeply moved me, and I hope I’ve been able to convey even a fraction of its power and meaning. The children of the children’s village have often endured difficult and painful experiences in their lives. Through AOHM, they are given a real chance to build a self-determined future—one filled with dignity, hope, and opportunity. Every child deserves this chance. And I truly believe that with your support, the work of the children’s village, and the dedication of all those who stand behind it, many more success stories like Ajery’s will be written in the years to come. To the children’s village, to the association, to each of you who supports us as donors and advocates—thank you. May we continue to walk this path together, creating not just safe homes, but lasting futures. And may the next generation of children grow up knowing: *You are seen. You are valued. And your future is yours to shape.*
Warm regards from Mbigili, Tanzania. Karla L.