Make a Difference

Coming of Age

My name is Josh Roth. In 2018, as a young teenager, I had a misguided belief that everyone in the world lived as comfortable a life as I did. My family and I would attend sporting events, visit historic cultural sites, play board games, watch movies and take fun-filled vacations. We would do this often and as a family. My friends and I would also make the most out of every weekend and enjoy summer vacations.

In the Jewish religion, when a Jewish boy turns 13 years old, he becomes accountable for his actions and becomes a bar mitzvah. After this age, the boy bears his own responsibility for Jewish law, tradition and ethics. The bar mitzvah milestone is often celebrated with a ceremony in a synagogue and a big party.

As my bar mitzvah approached, my parents asked me how I wanted to celebrate this momentous occasion. I didn’t want a big party. I had everything I wanted in life as a child. I had a loving family, great friends and access to lots of different things. I didn’t want or need anything else. But, something was missing. I wanted to understand and experience how other people in remote parts of the world lived. I was also always interested in wildlife. Where could I experience both? Africa!

The African Dream

Over the course of a year, my family and I planned the ultimate African experience. We visited three beautiful countries, met countless amazing people and experienced unique cultures throughout our journey in Zambia, Zimbabwe and South Africa. Our last stop was in Cape Town, South Africa. When we first arrived, I noticed multi-million dollar homes, with beautiful manicured lawns, neatly situated along the glistening Atlantic ocean with Table Mountain in the picturesque background.

The Reality

While in Cape Town, my parents arranged a local experiential tour at one of the nearby townships, or lokasies in Afrikaans. Townships generally refer to the underdeveloped, racially segregated urban areas that, from the late 19th century until the end of apartheid, have been reserved for non-whites in South Africa. There are several townships in Cape Town. We visited one such township, Khayelitsha.

We wanted to take a break from our safari experience in Africa, where we witnessed some of the most amazing wildlife in their natural habitat, to see, meet and, most importantly, learn from local residents in Khayelitsha. I will never forget what I witnessed driving into this township. There were thousands of tiny tin homes made out of broken materials scattered as far as my eyes could see. I was curious about it all. I asked our local guide question after question. How did these residents live? Where did they eat? Where did the children go to school? Did they have jobs? Did they have doctors to care for the sick? I wanted to know everything. I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing before my own eyes. I learned that anywhere from four to eight people live in these makeshift homes. They would share an outdoor community toilet hole with several other residents. Food and jobs were scarce. They didn’t have affordable access to basic healthcare and necessities.

The weight of this township experience was driven home when we had a pre-arranged visit to a local “school.” I was devastated by what I witnessed. My family and I entered a one-room building that was attached to a church. As we walked through the half-broken doors, I noticed about 40 children, ranging in age from two to six years old, studying in a miniature and bare classroom. Most children were sitting on the floor because there were not enough plastic desks and chairs for all the children to sit at. There were no school supplies; only a few books scattered across a dilapidated shelf. There wasn’t a common bathroom for the children to use. Some of the children didn’t have tissue to wipe their runny noses.

All the children were kind and adorable. They sang an African song to welcome us to their classroom. They were so happy to see new people from the opposite end of the world who cared enough to take time out of their vacation to visit them. The teachers were so appreciative and gracious to us, as we talked to them about a typical day in the life for these children. I hung onto every word that came out of the teachers mouths, wanting to absorb as much as I could from them. It was at that moment that everything hit me. I understood why my parents wanted me to have this empathetic experience. I realized how much I had taken for granted in life. These children had almost none of even the basic things that I have had growing up. But, we shared a common experience. We were all happy. A young teenager, like me, who was fortunate to have a lot, and children, like those in Khayelitsha, who lacked even the basic necessities, were more alike than different. We all wanted to have a happy and healthy life surrounded by those who care.

Love S.A. was Born

When we left Khayelitsha, I reflected on that day early and often. I have an amazing life. I have a loving family. I attend a great school. But, I used to complain. Complain about the type of food I sometimes didn’t want to eat. Complain about certain clothes I didn’t want to wear. Complain about too much homework. I was ashamed. Ashamed that I took for granted the very things that the young children in Khayelitsha would dream to have in their lives.

I was also upset that the children in Khayelitsha and other townships across South Africa have to live in difficult conditions in their current environment. It didn’t seem fair. I didn’t feel like they were getting the attention and assistance that they needed and deserved. These loving children deserve everything that other children around the world have in their lives.

On our long journey back home to New York, I didn’t stop thinking about the children I visited on that memorable day in Cape Town. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to make a small imprint on our world. What could I do to make this dream become a reality? I began jotting down ideas. Finally, it hit me. From that point on, the Love S.A. Foundation was born.