You Won’t Make It They Said, I Knew I Could

I am spending a few days in the Swiss Alps — most precisely the Bernese Oberland. As I hike some of the sometimes challenging but always gorgeous trails here, I am reminded of an incident that happened 40 years ago in this same place.

I was 10 years old and had recently moved to Switzerland from Sierra Leone, West Africa. I had just started 5th grade at an international school in Geneva. The year was 1981.

One morning, the teacher shared that our class excursion that year would take us to the mountains in the Bernese Oberland. It would be an overnight affair. We would hike 10 km to a secluded mountain hut, spend the night there and then return.

The class erupted, the children were like bumblebees, buzzing loudly with excitement. I was ecstatic. I was finally going to explore the magnificent Swiss Alps — up until then, all I had ever seen were photographs.

I ran home with the registration form pressed closely to my chest. I couldn’t afford to lose it.

When my mum arrived, I excitedly told her about the excursion and asked if I could go. “Let me look into whether we can afford it”, she said. Indeed, we always had to evaluate what we could spend money on. Her salary supported all 7 of us — us five children, my Grandma Jane, and herself.

I went to bed with the registration paper safely secured on the desk right next to me. I could barely sleep.

At dinner the next evening, my mum explained that the school teacher had called and told her that he didn’t recommend I come on the excursion. He explained that I was too small and thin, and he believed I lacked the resolve, endurance, and stamina to walk 10 km. I was devastated.

“Does this mean I cannot go?”, I asked almost incredulously.

“Exactly Rebecca, I mean he says you won’t be able to make it, that you’ll slow down the whole group. Besides, the trip is expensive as well, all the stuff you need to do it like Raichle mountain boots, a sturdy quality backpack, and a K-way raincoat are way too expensive too. You simply can’t go.”

In bed that night I cried profusely. I couldn’t believe that on top of all the bullying I faced at school, the teacher had personally called up my mother to de-invite me from what I considered to be the event of the year. How was I ever going to fit in if denied the opportunity to join the class excursion, to join the fun?

I devised a plan. I was going to perform exceptionally well at my next physical education classes with the naive hope that the teacher would see how strong I was and change his mind. Weeks went by and despite all my efforts, he didn’t.

The expedition was coming up. I had pleaded with my mother and grandmother over several weeks, begging them to let me go.

One Saturday as we finished grocery shopping, my mother headed toward the apparel section at our local Migros.

“Why don’t you try on this pair of boots, she said, pointing toward a European size 38 pair of brown Raichle boots with bright red laces?

I studied her face inquisitively. She was nodding, a familiar wide mischievous grin on her beautiful face. “Yes, you are going my darling,” she exclaimed.

That day we got the boots, the backpack, and all the stuff needed for the excursion. The boots were even on sale — a sign that my mum took to mean that even the universe wanted me to go on this excursion.

That evening, my mother wrote to the teacher to say that after carefully evaluating his concerns about my physical ability, she had decided to let me join the expedition.

To me, she said: “I believe in you, Rebecca. Many people underestimate you, but I know that you are strong. I know that you are determined. I know you’ll make it”.

And make it I did. I walked those 10 km as though they were nothing. Not only did I make it, I was at the head of the expedition the whole time, right next to the guide.

While other kids stopped walking, screamed, cried, and pleaded with the teacher for their mothers or to go back home, I continued walking.

I was driven by adversity, by the fact that others believed I would not succeed.

I was fascinated and energized by the beauty of my surroundings: the spectacular dramatic jagged mountain vistas, the vibrant colorful mountain flowers, the impeccable weather, the pure almost inebriating fresh air. I felt like I was in heaven.

We got to the mountain hut later that evening. I admired the landscape — at this altitude, there was no more vegetation — just solid rocks pointing up towards the heavens, meticulously sculptured and crafted by the most skilled creator of them all.

The teacher let us know that he was setting up an early morning optional expedition further up into the mountain for those that were interested. It was going to be even more challenging. I was the first to raise my hand.

At the crack of dawn, we embarked on an even steeper path further up the mountain. Again I was well ahead of everyone else. There were no tantrums in this group however, everyone there was a seasoned hiker, except for myself of course. Again we walked, and again I marveled at the incredible beauty of my surroundings.

We returned back to the hut by mid-morning and started the trip back down the rest of the mountain with our classmates. We had hidden a stash of food on our way up and now enjoyed delicious barbecued Swiss veal sausages and roasted marshmallows next to a white water, lionlike roaring river, as we came to the end of the trip.

As the train glided effortlessly on its rails as we made our way back to Geneva, I could feel a warmth in my belly that I hadn’t felt ever since moving to Switzerland months earlier and being constantly bullied day in day out.

It was a feeling of pride. Pride that I had made it up the mountain, that I had hiked even further than most of the kids on that train, and most importantly that I had proven so many people wrong.

Interestingly enough, I have often been underestimated and found myself in a similar predicament many times in my life. It is in these moments that I build strength and resilience.

In parting, I would say that no one knows what anyone is capable of. If you know you can do something, you most surely can.

Most important in life is to not assume anything about anyone else. Take the time to get to know them — appreciate them, coach them, encourage them.

Don’t limit their potential by locking them into a box, a category, or a stereotype you created. If you give people a chance, most people will totally surprise you.

Thanks for reading me.