I first heard the word ubuntu years ago from a South African friend. It’s an African proverb meaning
I am because we are.
Pieces of the world have been woven into me. At this point, I feel like it’s part of my DNA. Being born in Germany, I believe I got a head start. My parents not only supported me from a young age but encouraged me to invinite orbem terrarum, a Latin phrase I have tattooed in their handwriting, that translates to
discover the world.
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It was during my time in Thailand that set off what would begin a lifelong question of, "What more can I do?" After seeing the state of animal welfare, I began to search for a way to get involved with spreading awareness about the dog meat trade in Asia. One organization in particular stood out to me, Soi Dog. Translating to "street dog" in Thai, Soi Dog's mission captured my heart. Soi Dog rescues and rehabilitates dogs in Thailand from the dog meat trade. Once these dogs are rehabilitated, they adopt them out to people around the world, creating more room for another dog to be rescued. Over the past 20 plus years, they have rescued thousands of animals. I knew I had to be a part of this movement if even it was in the smallest of ways. That is when I found the three-legged love of my life, Kwanjai.
Kwanjai, a 13 year old senior, was a constant reminder of resilience and second chances. Despite her having three legs, one eye, a very messed up tail, and no teeth, she opened up her heart to me, ultimately giving a human another chance. I adopted her knowing she didn't have much time left. But knowing that the 13 years she had spent in the world had been spent with so much pain and fear, I wanted to provide her the best memories of whatever amount of time she had left. What seemed like three very quick years later, Kwanjai crossed the rainbow bridge.
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A good friend of mine once told me that she is a firm believer, that if we treat our dogs well while they are with us, they will lead us to our next dog. Kwanjai was obsessed with flowers. Talk about clichés. She would always stop and smell all the flowers. Her most preferred spot to lay would be in flowerbeds. After she passed, I made a video commemorating her life and sent it to the founder of Soi Dog. A couple months later, there was a new dog that had entered Soi Dog that was in one of the worst conditions they had seen. I had been in communication about the possibility of rescuing another dog but wasn't sure if I was ready just yet. Was it too soon? That is when I received an email regarding this precious pup. While Soi Dog had many inquiries for adoption to rescue this dog, they were looking and needing a particular person and home. With her current condition, she was going to require a lot of special care and attention. I was honored when they asked me if I would be interested. How could I say no?
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Two months later, I flew to Thailand. With me, I had 100 pounds of donations sent in from friends across to U.S. to give to Soi Dog. I rang in the 2020 New Year in Phuket, Thailand. If you're thinking what I think you're thinking after reading that, yes, I was extremely lucky to have flown out when I did due do COVID. Five years later, this girl is a pure light and another reminder to never give up. She was on the brink of death but fought. She is a fighter. Oh, and remember how I told you about what my friend said about your dog leading you to your next? The name of this sweet girl is, Poppy...a flower.
Outside of adopting Kwanjai and Poppy, my mission to raise awareness about the DMT continues. Through collective efforts of friends and family members, we are able to raise funds that go directly to Soi Dog.
When Soi Dog was making a documentary about their 20 years of service, they asked me and Poppy to be involved. You can check out the full documentary as well as Poppy's full interview below.
Soi Dog
iKhaya Le Themba
One simply does not know the true beauty of Africa until they've fully immersed themselves in all of her glory. Before visiting South Africa, I had only been to countries in North Africa. While those countries are undeniably beautiful, they are in a completely different category.
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Sub-Saharan Africa truly feels like a dream (cue Vicky Sampson’s African Dream). Life opened up for me there...the people, the culture, the music, the food, the landscapes, the animals, everything.
This particular trip was my first to Sub-Saharan Africa. A few months before my departure, I started researching schools near where I’d be staying. I had this wild, long-shot idea to reach out to a school in the township of Imizamo Yethu, let them know I’d be visiting, and see if there was any way I could volunteer. To my surprise and excitement, I received a response from the school director just days later, she said “absolutely.” We stayed in touch leading up to my arrival, and through our conversations, I learned so much more than I ever expected.
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This is one of the biggest reasons I love to travel, to meet people from different backgrounds, cultures, and perspectives. Through our talks, I came to understand how deeply the legacy of apartheid still lingers in South Africa today. Since the system only officially ended in the early 1990s, the ripple effects will take generations to heal.
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The 120 students at iKhaya Le Themba live in Imizamo Yethu, a township made up of shanties built on a hillside. Most homes consist of a single room without running water. There’s no proper flooring or roofing, just metal sheets for walls and ceilings. Families in IY and similar townships don’t have heat. And while "no heat in Africa" might not seem like a problem at first, the South African winters are cold, especially when there aren’t enough warm clothes or blankets to go around.
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With about a month to go before my trip, I knew I had to do something. I created an online wishlist filled with educational supplies and teaching materials. I told myself if I could fill one suitcase, I’d be happy. But within the first week, the entire list was fulfilled! So I expanded it to include first aid items, small toys, and clothes. By the end of week two, that list was also completely fulfilled. It had been shared far and wide. How lucky am I to be surrounded by such generous people?
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Though the school had already received a lot, I couldn’t stop thinking about something the director had said. She told me that most of the kids had never owned anything new, anything to really call their own. That stuck with me. With help from a close friend, we assembled 120 personalized pencil packs, each filled with school supplies, fidget toys, and small tokens of encouragement.
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The last piece of the donation puzzle came in a way I never expected. In August of 2019, I began working as a game day producer for the Houston Texans. When our game day production hosts found out about my trip, they made some calls. I was expecting a small donation of Texans shirts for the school staff, but when I arrived, there were hundreds of Texans items waiting. They wanted to ensure there was something for every single person at the school.
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Even hours before my flight, deliveries from people across the country were still arriving, I was completely overwhelmed with gratitude. In total, over 500 pounds of donations were gathered.
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When I arrived in South Africa, I began documenting the experience on social media so that everyone who had donated, or was just curious, could follow along. Within days, I saw firsthand how cold winter truly was. Children huddled under blankets during lessons because there was no heat. That moment sparked another idea.
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I found a local electronics store selling space heaters for what would be a reasonable price to Americans. I knew how many rooms the school had and posted on social media asking if anyone wanted to contribute toward purchasing one. I’m not even kidding, within an hour, all five were fully funded. The school would now have heat.
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[After picking up the five space heaters from the electronics store, I had to hire an Uber to make the 45-minute trek to Imizamo Yethu. I must’ve looked pretty ridiculous asking the driver to help load all the heaters into his car, but he did it without question, at first.
A few minutes into the ride, I could feel him glancing at me through the rearview mirror every now and then, almost like he was trying to figure me out. Someone who looked like me, heading into a township with this kind of cargo. Finally, he broke the silence. “So, why all the space heaters?” he asked.
I told him they were for a school in IY. He kept checking the road, then glancing back at me through the mirror. Still confused, he asked, “Is it mandatory work?”
I explained that I was an American visitor who just wanted to help. I told him how cold it was in those classrooms, how no one, especially children trying to learn, should have to sit in those conditions. I mentioned how it felt like the people of IY had been forgotten, a lingering effect of apartheid.
He got quiet. And then, I saw tears forming in his eyes. He looked at me again in the mirror and said, “I’m a coloured, from a township near IY.”
In South Africa, “coloured” is still a commonly used term to describe someone who isn’t white, a relic of the country’s past. During apartheid, South Africans had to carry ID cards that identified them by race, which dictated every part of their lives. If you were a "coloured," you were treated like garbage.
I still find it wild that the term is not only used but self-identified. This man had to be in his 50s, which means he lived through apartheid. Hearing him say that, seeing him tear up, froze time. Everything I’d read in books, I was now experiencing. Firsthand.
With tears in his eyes, he told me, “No one ever cares about us. People always talk about helping. They say they feel bad for our conditions or our past, but they don’t do anything.” But seeing this, the heaters, the mission, the heart behind it, meant something to him. His eyes grew glossier. And then, I started to cry.
I turned to look out the window as we drove along the coastline heading south. This was it. This is what it’s all about. I told him my friends and I weren’t doing any of this for glory. We just wanted to help, to remind people they’re not alone. I even confessed I had hesitated posting about the donations because it was getting so much attention. But then he said something that’s stayed with me ever since. He said, “It’s important to tell as many people as possible, because you never know how many more you can inspire to do something good. Even just a small act of kindness.” Touché, sir. He told me that even though he didn’t have much money, he was going to go out that day and do something good for someone. That we all need those reminders sometimes. So yes, keep spreading the news that good is out there. And more importantly, we can BE the good.
Best and most life-changing Uber ride of my life. (And no, Uber didn’t pay me to say that.)]
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Weeks were going by and I was definitely enjoying my time there with the kids. Before leaving, I asked the school director if there was anything else I could help with. She hesitated at first, worried they had already asked for too much. I reassured her this wasn’t a burden, it was a blessing. That’s when she told me many of the children were wearing shoes that didn’t fit, or none at all. A proper pair of shoes would cost a family what could amount to a month’s salary. When I visited the local store, I found shoes for the equivalent of $8 USD.
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Once again, I turned to social media and asked if anyone wanted to “claim” a pair of shoes for a child. And just like with the heaters, within a short time, all 60 pairs were spoken for and purchased.
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Until this trip, I had never done anything like this. It made me realize people do want to help, they just may not know how, or where to start. Sometimes people need reassurance that their money is going to good use. This experience lit a fire in me to do more, every year, as often as I can.
Cuba
For the longest time, I thought it might not be possible to visit Cuba in my lifetime. When Americans were finally allowed to travel there again, I knew I couldn't wait. As of now, U.S. citizens must fill out forms stating their purpose for entering Cuba. One of the allowed categories is "support for the Cuban people." Without a doubt, I knew that's why I was going. I checked the box.
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Unlike South Africa, getting donations into Cuba was a bit trickier. There were so many conflicting reports online about whether there was a limit on what visitors could bring. Since it was my first visit and there were already so many what-ifs and unknowns, I didn't want to push my luck.
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I made a wish list for donations, just like I did for South Africa. This time, however, the list was very different. I had read up on the conditions in Cuba, and I'm so glad I did - it allowed me to make a more targeted donation. But still, to be there in person? Nothing could have prepared me for that. After going to Cuba, I have a completely different perspective on waste and resourcefulness. If I can help it, I don't waste anything anymore.
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The donation list included every hygiene product imaginable, plus medicine, children's clothing, school supplies, a few baseballs, and candy to distribute. I also packed a lot of clothes that I hadn't worn in a long time. My goal was to make at least 30 small bags to give to the locals. Once again, my friends came through.
Unfortunately, unlike in South Africa, I couldn't just go to a store when I got there and buy more. I wish I could have, because nothing prepared me for how bad the situation is. So many people live in dilapidated buildings. While I was there, the roof of the building next to mine collapsed. A fire truck was called. When I went outside, a man told me that this kind of thing happens almost every day. He was standing in normalcy. I stood in shock.
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Although giving out the bags meant a lot and I know they made a difference, one thing I wish I had brought more of was Hot Wheels cars. Those little toys only cost $1 USD and take up very little space in a suitcase. I only brought 10. The look on each little boy's face when I handed one out... I'll never forget it. Later in the trip, I learned that children in Cuba don't really have toys because there are no stores. The only store I saw during my entire visit was a boutique for tourists. No grocery store. This country made me understand and appreciate what a convenience store really is.
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There is no access to basic over-the-counter medicine. If someone has a migraine or cramps, they just have to endure it. People I spoke to told me that hospitals are running out of medicine. Seeing people walking around in pain was like a punch in the gut. I wished I could do more. I wanted so badly to run to a store and buy what they needed. But... there was no store. There was no medicine.
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Another regret? Not bringing more Tootsie Pops. The kids loved them. It was the first time they had ever had one. Something so small, something we throw in jars and forget about, had them screaming, laughing, jumping up and down with their friends.
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To put the economic reality in perspective, I met a woman who rolled tobacco leaves for a living. Her hands looked permanently curled, as if they were still holding invisible cigars. A former professor, who had to quit his job because it paid only $20 a month, showed me around the plantation and introduced us. He became the translator of our conversation, explaining the intense physicality of their craft. As we left, he told me she made about 50 cents a day.
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There it was again .... that feeling of perspective. I had a $5 bill in my pocket, so I gave it to her. In the U.S., $5 barely covers a bottle of water at a concert. But for her? That $5 might allow her to take a couple of weeks off work, or finally get something she needed. I just wish I had brought more.
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That feeling, that pit in my stomach, has grown more and more with each trip. I want to do more. I wish I could do more.
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A few days later, I visited an elementary school in Havana and spent time with the kids. We played. Thanks to my friends, I had toothbrushes, small toys and stickers to give them. They were thrilled. The school itself was in an old house that had been converted after the revolution, because there are very few new buildings in Cuba.
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I cannot wait to return so I can do more.
Egypt
"Now my heart turns this way and that as I think what the people will say. Those who will see my monuments in years to come and who will speak of what I have done."
- Queen Hatshepsut [hat-ship-suit]
My absolute favorite pharaoh of them all. If you don't know her story, I encourage you to take a minute to read about her.
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Before I left for Egypt, I spent time researching various orphanages in hopes of making a connection. With a few weeks before my flight, I wanted to start another fundraiser for children, just as I had done in other countries. Unfortunately, I received no response from any of the places I contacted. Still, I continued with the drive, trusting that once I arrived in Egypt, I would find a way to get the donations into the right hands. If nothing else, I would do what I had done in Cuba to connect directly with local families and children. Fortunately, it was a success.
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On my second day in Egypt, I met a woman who would become my tour guide, and as fate would have it, she knew exactly who to connect me with. She was genuinely moved when I told her about my mission and asked, somewhat skeptically, "Why are you doing this? What's the catch?"
I told her the truth, that there isn't.
People often ask me the same question. Some look at me funny, assuming it's a gimmick or that I want something in return. But sometimes people just want to do good. These gifts are my way of saying thank you for allowing me to be in your country, to experience your beauty and your culture. It's my way of giving back to the places that open their doors with welcoming arms.
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We made a plan with her good friend to visit a privately run orphanage on my last day. Three modes of transportation later, I arrived in front of a neglected building, its walls crumbling, the street covered in dirt and trash. From the open windows I heard the echoing laughter of children and a dog barking in the distance.
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We entered the building and climbed three flights of stairs. Dozens of small shoes lined the doorway. Before entering the house, I took off mine. There were about 20 children in the living room. This orphanage, run entirely by a handful of adults, supports 60 children in one building. These are the children of people who care for each other outside of a corrupt system. It's completely privately run.
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When I say these kids were excited about everything, I mean everything. New or used, it didn't matter. They were genuinely grateful. It made me stop and ask myself, how often do I appreciate the little things? The things that I take for granted every day?
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Spending time with these children brought me so much joy. Although the language barrier was a challenge, one for which I take responsibility, it didn't stop us from connecting.
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Before I left, the man who runs the orphanage invited me to return during Ramadan. The thought of going back fills me with gratitude and excitement.
Best Friends Animal Society
Supporting animals in my own community has always been a very important part of my life. Volunteering with Best Friends gives me the opportunity to step in where help was most needed, cleaning shelters, organizing supplies before hurricane season, assisting with adoption events, and my favorite part, taking photos to help animals get adopted.
Star of Hope
Giving back starts at home, and I wanted my students to feel that way, too. I partnered with Star of Hope, a homeless shelter in downtown Houston, to create an ongoing volunteer program with a foundation of compassion, consistency, and community.
Together with my Film students, we committed to serving in the shelter's food kitchen once a week. Each semester, students signed up for shifts, allowing them to connect with the Houston community beyond the classroom. It became more than just an act of service, it became a lesson in kindness and awareness.
Over the holidays, our efforts expanded. We organized school-wide jacket drives in the winter and created and delivered handmade, thoughtful cards during the holidays.
