Back in those undergrad years, a common refrain among the author's classmates were the sheer pointlessness of paying such high prices for education. In that process, the college diploma, or as everyone called it, "a piece of paper bought with four years of life and tens of thousands of dollars," was consistently butt of jokes. Even to this day, the author's diploma sits inside a folder in his cabinet, occasionally brought out to serve as paperwork for visa, grad school, or job applications, but never framed or hung on the wall, like it was intended to be upon its creation and reception.
Indeed, for the author (and likely his classmates), the diploma itself is but a mere physical representation of the education itself. In the eyes of employers, for instance, graduating from an elite college will certainly be a sign of the person's potential competence, but the fact of that graduation is not strengthened or weakened by having or not having the diploma itself. The paper certificate, called "diploma," is just a physical proof that the graduation took place, but even without it, there are plenty of other ways that the graduation can be proven.
Fast forward more than half a decade, the author found himself the giver, rather than the receiver, of a completely different kind of paper certificates, to farmers in rural Tanzania. Like the college diploma, it also serves the purposes of proving and celebrating some sort of accomplishment. In this case it happens to be finishing a loan given months ago. Like the college diploma, it is a formally created piece of hard paper, color-printed, stamped, and signed. The author's first instinct upon seeing it was scorn. How can a certificate be useful in a place where half the people can't read?
He was proven completely wrong. A humble piece of paper often became the difference between accomplishing and not accomplishing. It was a highly prized prize for that accomplishment, one that people specifically asked for and looked on with envy when they see others receiving it. In places where other free pieces of paper, whether they be posters, flyers, or even nice little colored cards, are tossed out after no more than a casual glance, the villagers seemed to protect these certificates, an act the author found curiously perplexing.
But think again, and the idea that a piece of paper can hold such significance becomes clearer. In a village where paying for school fees can be a massive financial burden, the idea of getting a certificate for accomplishing anything may very well be an unreachable concept for many people. It is nothing less than a tragedy that someone who lived out most of his/her life already has never, for once, been formally congratulated by an external organization for accomplishing anything in life. Thought that way, a certificate of accomplishment takes on a much more cherished meaning.
The significance is amplified even further by the fact that a rural farming village is so tight-knit and so isolated. The very concept of getting a visitor from far away is a novelty. To know that some people within the community were praised by the visitor will quickly be spread as news across the community, greatly boosting the standing of the person praised. Not the recipient of the accolades can walk through the village with head held up high, knowing that among his peers, he is a level above, one who is capable of extraordinary accomplishment worthy of widespread repute.
The certificate, in such case, becomes the visual representation of that newly acquired reputation. In a place without resumes, without Internet, and without the notary public, that piece of paper become equated with the accomplishment itself, not just a representation of it. The community sees the certificate as the seal of honor, with the holder being approved by the outside world. What the certificate for and what the person accomplished to deserve probably matter much less in their minds. It can be assumed that if it is worthy of the certificate, the accomplishment must be great.
It is a point of reflection for a person who find belittling college diplomas to be humorous. When one takes for granted an accomplishment like college graduation, obviously anything less would not be worthy of serious consideration either. But in a place where people expend their entire lives toiling the same pieces of land in the exact same way, to be lauded something, for anything, becomes a good memory for life. There is no reason the villagers will not jump on the opportunity for the once-in-a-lifetime praise, and there should be no reason they should be ridiculed for their enthusiasm.
Indeed, for the author (and likely his classmates), the diploma itself is but a mere physical representation of the education itself. In the eyes of employers, for instance, graduating from an elite college will certainly be a sign of the person's potential competence, but the fact of that graduation is not strengthened or weakened by having or not having the diploma itself. The paper certificate, called "diploma," is just a physical proof that the graduation took place, but even without it, there are plenty of other ways that the graduation can be proven.
Fast forward more than half a decade, the author found himself the giver, rather than the receiver, of a completely different kind of paper certificates, to farmers in rural Tanzania. Like the college diploma, it also serves the purposes of proving and celebrating some sort of accomplishment. In this case it happens to be finishing a loan given months ago. Like the college diploma, it is a formally created piece of hard paper, color-printed, stamped, and signed. The author's first instinct upon seeing it was scorn. How can a certificate be useful in a place where half the people can't read?
He was proven completely wrong. A humble piece of paper often became the difference between accomplishing and not accomplishing. It was a highly prized prize for that accomplishment, one that people specifically asked for and looked on with envy when they see others receiving it. In places where other free pieces of paper, whether they be posters, flyers, or even nice little colored cards, are tossed out after no more than a casual glance, the villagers seemed to protect these certificates, an act the author found curiously perplexing.
But think again, and the idea that a piece of paper can hold such significance becomes clearer. In a village where paying for school fees can be a massive financial burden, the idea of getting a certificate for accomplishing anything may very well be an unreachable concept for many people. It is nothing less than a tragedy that someone who lived out most of his/her life already has never, for once, been formally congratulated by an external organization for accomplishing anything in life. Thought that way, a certificate of accomplishment takes on a much more cherished meaning.
The significance is amplified even further by the fact that a rural farming village is so tight-knit and so isolated. The very concept of getting a visitor from far away is a novelty. To know that some people within the community were praised by the visitor will quickly be spread as news across the community, greatly boosting the standing of the person praised. Not the recipient of the accolades can walk through the village with head held up high, knowing that among his peers, he is a level above, one who is capable of extraordinary accomplishment worthy of widespread repute.
The certificate, in such case, becomes the visual representation of that newly acquired reputation. In a place without resumes, without Internet, and without the notary public, that piece of paper become equated with the accomplishment itself, not just a representation of it. The community sees the certificate as the seal of honor, with the holder being approved by the outside world. What the certificate for and what the person accomplished to deserve probably matter much less in their minds. It can be assumed that if it is worthy of the certificate, the accomplishment must be great.
It is a point of reflection for a person who find belittling college diplomas to be humorous. When one takes for granted an accomplishment like college graduation, obviously anything less would not be worthy of serious consideration either. But in a place where people expend their entire lives toiling the same pieces of land in the exact same way, to be lauded something, for anything, becomes a good memory for life. There is no reason the villagers will not jump on the opportunity for the once-in-a-lifetime praise, and there should be no reason they should be ridiculed for their enthusiasm.
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