life lessons
In the summer of 2020, following a year like no other, I was invited to be guest speaker at Speech Day at our children’s school. When you’re asked to do something like this, you inevitably reflect on your own past. In hindsight, my years at senior school, and the skills it equipped me with, were probably the most significant 7-year period in my life. I feel incredibly privileged to have attended a senior school very similar to the one our son will be starting this year, in terms of the access to opportunities it gave me and the lessons it taught me. I wanted to share those lessons with the kids at my children’s school, and I also wanted to share them with you. Here they are.
After school, I went to university to study Social Anthropology, and after completing my degree and realising I wasn’t quite ready to have to work for a living, I stayed on for another year and did a masters. I spent my twenties doing a variety of jobs, some paid, some unpaid and some voluntary in the charity sector. At the time, I thought I was wandering aimlessly. I now recognise what I was in fact doing, was gaining a decade’s worth of experience for the life that was to follow. In my thirties, an unexpected opportunity to follow my instinct and pursue what I felt passionate about arose. This made me realise that it’s completely normal to not have a clue about what you want to do with the rest of your lives. We will all end up where we need to be, we just take a variety of different journeys getting there.
Not long after our son Sal had started walking, I had accumulated a bag full of his outgrown shoes, most of which had barely been worn. Children tend to outgrow their shoes before they outwear them. I spent my childhood in Africa where my Dad worked as a civil engineer, and I have witnessed poverty in its most blatant form from an early age. Feet in shoes are protected feet, feet protected from injury; and in areas of low sanitation, protected from the spread of infection. There are an estimated 300 million children around the world for whom walking with shoes is a rarity.
I started thinking about this, and decided I wanted to find a charity that could tell me where exactly Sal’s Shoes would find their new owners if I donated them. I wanted to be able to follow their journey. Unable to find one, I sent them to a friend volunteering on a children’s ward at a hospital in Zambia. And to be honest, I thought no more about it. A few weeks later I happened to receive some photographs of the children wearing the shoes I had sent. One of the little boys was wearing Sal’s very first pair of shoes – they had become his first pair of shoes. I have no qualms about acknowledging that charity can be selfish – doing good feels good - and seeing that image made me feel good about what I’d done, but more significantly it made me want to do more. I don’t think I’m here to change the world, but I do believe I can make a difference.
I think the vast majority of us want to do good, we just don’t always get around to it. We’re busy. I also believe the more direct an opportunity you give a person to help, the more likely they are to if it’s within their capacity.
Social media for all its flaws - and it has many, many flaws, when harnessed for good, can be astounding. After posting those images on my personal social media pages I was very quickly inundated with messages from friends and friends of friends asking how they too could donate their kids outgrown shoes – the seed for Sal’s Shoes was sown. I rallied just about everyone I knew into helping me nurture it. I was raised into being independent. But that doesn’t mean I can’t ask for help. I am very aware of my limitations and have no problem asking for support. I believe we all have something to offer, be that money or goods, wisdom and wit, expertise, a shoulder to lean on, a listening ear, eyes to watch over or helping hands.
I utilised my circle of friends and family. My graphic designer friend created our logo, my IT whizz of a friend created our website and social media pages and email accounts. An accountant friend helped with finances and budgeting. My friends became Sal’s Shoes volunteers. I approached a local company to give us our first corporate donation.
Over 7.5 years on, we have now distributed over 2.5 million pairs of children’s shoes, outgrown but not outworn, in 50 countries around the world, including over 25,000 pairs in the UK alone just since the start of lockdown 1.
We have also launched and rolled out Sal’s Shoes operations in several other countries around the world.
We have always worked within the UK. Child poverty levels in this country have never been higher. We receive requests from schools and social workers, from baby banks, homeless shelters, soup kitchens, asylum seeker and refugee centres and domestic violence refuges. We are privileged to be able to help support sports projects and children who may not be able to afford a pair of football boots. I am increasingly aware that in the town I live, there are children who go to school hungry and whose families cannot afford a pair of shoes for them.
In a world where you can be anything, do remember to be kind. Kindness costs nothing and means everything. Be that person that other people know can be called upon. And remember the community that you are a part of, that has nourished you, when you are the one in need of help. My best friends from senior school remain my best friends today and 3 of my school friends are trustees of Sal’s Shoes.
CJ of Sal’s Shoes