17 October has been declared "International Day for the Eradication of Poverty", celebrated since 1993 by a decision of the UN General Assembly. The purpose for having such a day in the calendars is to keep the awareness of poverty all over the world awake so that adequate measures for its eradication continue to be sought.

It is extremely worrying that there are large groups of suffering people who remain unnoticed, rejected, living on the edge of survival. Poverty among the Maasai children, for example, is not just about lack of money. It is also in the lack of basic living conditions, the possibility of education and access to health care.

With the story below, we call on each and every one of us, for an act of Humanity!

A story that begins with a personal journey to the paradise corners of the earth that are enjoyed by every foreign tourist , but not allowed to the locals to use the vital resources and goods that their country has. In spite of their falsely presented freedom and democracy, the spirit of slavery still haunts these places. For a people who will never emerge from the primitive order, the civilization of the 21st century will be alien to them. Their virtue and strong spirit, however, will never leave them.

In m. February, in an emotionally elevated state of mind, I organized my long-awaited research trip. This time I decided to indulge in complete relaxation rather than research and exploration as usual, without expecting any surprises. And so, as a European with pretensions to luxury, I was confronted with the poverty of a people and, in particular, the extremely limited opportunities for a normal life of one of the tribes that is fundamental to Tanzania, the Maasai.

Upon my arrival in Africa, nothing foreshadowed what I would encounter in the next two weeks.

The transfer car left the airport and the horror of poverty overwhelmed and overwhelmed me. By the hotel I was asking myself the questions, "Where am I?", "Is this for real?", "What kind of paradise is this?". I needed time to accept it all and come to terms with the fact that after all, this was only two weeks, not a lifetime. Eventually I realized that for others it was a lifetime.

I have to admit that I didn't want to leave the hotel room, but driven by my curiosity, I decided to take a walk on the beach. At first I kept my distance from the locals I met along the way. Accepting that this was a pose, a circus to make money from the tourists, I embarked on a photo session with disbelief and mockery. But when one of the kids took my hand to see it existed, gently pulled me to bend over and sang their welcome song, everything inside me flipped. I will never forget those magnetically absorbing and deep eyes, that spoke without words. With her coy smile and arms wide open, she invited a hug. That child's embrace brought me down from that cloud of air with which I had inflated myself, and which I was later to understand. She began to dance in a childlike way, singing songs she had taught them in the tribe. She would take my hand and suggest dance with me. I could not resist this challenge. I looked around to see who his mother was, but saw many women seated on a mat, and knitting various ornaments to sell. I approached the women. They smiled shyly and invited me to join them. I tried to strike up a conversation, but their modesty made me humble myself and sit with them. I watched for hours as they quietly crafted products I would later see in some of the beach shops. There was a hierarchy they never crossed. To them, I was a guest and they treated me with reverence and respect. The children would come and look at me. They touched my fair skin, played with strands of my hair and kept singing. It was a different day for them.

Embarrassed by my self-centered behavior earlier, I decided to go up to the room and get some Bulgarian rose muscatel and martenitsas that I took with me just in case. I returned to the women and gave them the muscals. I had never seen such joy in giving them perfume before. I decided to tie the martenitsas to the children, even though it was not the 1st of March. It was a miracle for them to receive a gift. Joy expressed in children's delight at tying white and red thread. At one point I ran out of martenitsas and didn't know what else to do, so I decided to give them the cardboard wrappers from the martenitsas. This made them even happier. The children's laughter took over the beach. They were all showing what they had and enjoying themselves. Inexplicable joy of white and red thread and cardboard wrappers. At that moment it was as if someone had given them the whole world.

This open emotion provoked me to start my research about the Masai lifestyle and culture. In the mornings and evenings I walked around, looking, observing, playing with the children, bringing them various treats that they had obviously never seen. I would show them that these were for eating and they would bite into them incredulously. Then, again with that same innocent and pure joy, they surrounded me and increasingly captured my heart. With each passing moment of the day, I realized how little the human soul needs. I could see how they didn't know expensive playlists, computer games, or have phones to listen to their favorite music. They eagerly waited for the tidal wave so they could use what washed up from the ocean to build their own little house, which they guarded lest someone knock it down - like the warriors they would later become. The found board from the ocean became a surfboard, the sandbar became a football field, and with the tidal wave the game went from football to water polo. From everything I was seeing I wanted to learn more and more about the locals.

I stood quietly off to the side, watching these emotions, and I was impressed by the Maasai men. Like warriors they stood and quietly watched everything that was going on. In the evening after everyone was asleep they would quietly patrol the beach. With the first rays of the sun, they would dignifiedly and humbly cede the beach to us tourists.

I really wanted to talk to one of them and learn more about their tribe. The women were sparing in their language, given their poor spoken English. One morning while walking early on the beach one of the Maasai spoke to me, perhaps because I was too early on the beach, uncharacteristic of beachgoers. I was trying to have a dialogue but everything was happening very slowly. Then he said something in Italian and that opened a dialogue that lasted for the rest of my vacation. He told me about all the natural resources their country has and the inability to use them because they are being used by "the rest of us". It was a matter of politics. He took me into the depths of their history, and I learned about the authenticity of the Maasai tribes. Despite the times they have withstood the corruption of the modern world, proudly defending their cultural value. A value that is incomprehensible to those of us living in the dynamics of the capitalist society. He was extremely polite and careful in his speech in order not to hurt others of different ethnicities. With confidence he showed me his village, for which we travelled a day and a half by a variety of means of transport, from something like a ferry (definitely for their use), to a large bus, which he was so happy he didn't have to use their tick-tock vans (crammed with people, no air-conditioning, not even the extra of sitting down) and then by motorbike to the village. It immersed me in the cosmic magic of the Maasai spirit. He showed me everything I wanted to see - a home (a type of hut with a tank), no electricity or other gadgets to support the household, in order to charge some appliance on a battery they have to walk miles to supposedly some town where they can charge it.

Animals, which are of utmost importance to them, are also an expression of material status, which is necessary in marriage. A marriage arranged with the parents of the young, in which the boy undertakes to pay the girl's family a certain number of cattle by a certain time. In most cases, not all boys can get livestock of 20-30 head of animals. After failing to honour this agreement, the girl's father takes her home to sell to someone else, despite the fact that she has already started a family and, most shockingly, the children stay with the father. He has to take care of them. This fact so shook me that it instantly brought me back to that child who was innocently holding out her little hands to me. That innocent desire to be held, to be caressed, to have someone pay attention to him. I wondered then - how many of the children I met were alone, deprived of the warm embrace of a mother, the quiet lullaby, and the presence of the most important person in their lives, one of whose social rights as a mother is to be educated in the knowledge of body modification and all the changes that lie ahead in the years leading up to womanhood. The strict principles of morality and honour, and the social role that the Maasai warriors honourably fulfilled, answered the questions about their children's behaviour that I had asked earlier.

It turns out that animals are vital even for a visit to a doctor because to see one there, they have to sell an animal.

They showed me the unfinished school, which is why their children don't go to school, which is otherwise compulsory in Tanzania, and the well from which they draw water and in which they then soak some branches and herbs to purify it.

We also passed through a village of Swahili people, with whom they live next door.

Shocked by all this, I asked what is their purpose in life, do they not want this injustice to change, why are they not fighting for equal rights and opportunities, for democracy in relations. He looked at me nobly and said, "We are free. We live with nature and with the gods. It is important in a man's life to have a hut to take his family home to. We also want our children to study, but these are almost impossible things for us. It costs about $5,000 to build the hut and education, as much as it is declared to be free we are obliged to pay $10 a month and if the child is in boarding school it costs $300 a year. Our children have to walk miles to school, and we have no motorized means even to carry water."

All this so shook me that I could not say a word. I sank deep into the nobility of the Maasai, then returned to the hustle and bustle of the hotel. Two parallel worlds passed through me. With my right periphery, I could see the world we live in, our hectic daily lives, our ability to organize our own time, our meetings with friends. I realised how just a smartphone nowadays is half a hut, an opportunity to learn or an opportunity to heal, and a variety of food and water is actually a luxury. My left periphery sees the beauty of the mountains where another civilization has embraced like a mother's embrace. A civilization that is outside the matrix of the modern global race. A civilization for which time does not exist. A human race that knows no vanity. With the first rays of the sun, they thank God for giving them the opportunity to see it today. The unquestioning zeal of men and women for their daily lives, for their survival together, the nobility and gentleness in their eyes, quietly saying HAKUNA MATATA. A people deeply nurtured in the foundations of their moral values.

Reason and heart fighting for supremacy in a battle that for many is unnecessary. Vanity with virtue!

This is just a brief account of the deep emotion within me. Of a people wary of social and economic injustice. A people living in apparent freedom. A people who have no access to clean water, electricity and healthcare. They eat once a day, not because of another diet, but because that is what the tribe has. Children don't get toys for their birthday, they don't know the pre-holiday euphoria of party preparations. There is still a fair distribution of wealth here ? ?

The idea of funding is not to save humanity, but to help a part of a species that doesn't say "Give!" per se, but says "We have a need." not because they are lazy or incapable, but because they are not given the opportunity.

In Tanzania natural resources are exploited by foreigners, tourism is also developed by foreigners. Well-organized reserves have been built on tribal lands and are used for expensive safaris. This in turn pushes the Maasai tribe towards the interior. Land is being taken away from them, a prerequisite that limits their ability to raise livestock and crops to feed themselves. Because of foreigners, their standard is high, which the locals cannot afford. Throughout my stay in Tanzania, none of the locals asked for money from me, even for the fact that I wanted to see things and experience history that I hadn't paid for.

After acquainting the members of the Praxi Association, with the above, all decided by the same to organize a donation campaign.

The money collected will be used to send materials to the school, to support the school activities, the families and the male soldiers who are raising their children on their own in Tanga district, Khandeni district.