Honoring Tim St. Clair

By Rinda T. Hayes

Three months it's been, since the ravages of pancreatic cancer took my friend, Tim St. Clair. I had watched as it had turned him into a belly-bulging bag of bones. I hate that he's gone.

His was an insatiable curiosity. He still had so many stories to write, people to interview, places to explore. How he loved poking his nose in to every nook and cranny of West Seattle, the place he'd called home for 20 years. On weekends he'd often putt down I-5 to visit us in Portland. He was family to us. Ours were the children he never had. When my husband and I would leave town, it was always Tim that the kids wanted to come stay with them. Tim would find everything they did to be amusing, no matter how naughty. We'd call to check on how things were going, and he'd say, "Things are great! We're smoking cigars and getting tattoos."

I think of him, today. It's the week of his birthday. He would have been 58.

Following his death, many of his friends and family had wanted to honor him in a lasting way. A scholarship was born in his name, and I was the lucky person who got to choose the recipients. I returned from Africa, where I'd been working in Kenya the last three years building a program that connects American sponsors with bright, impoverished students that live in a remote rural area. I'd been stunned by the student's eagerness to learn, their bright minds and their ability to grasp concepts in a world where there are no textbooks.

This time I had arrived with a special gift to bestow, its value immeasurable: a college scholarship, possibly two, to award in Tim's name. In honor of Tim's passion for journalism, we'd hope to find a student wanting to pursue that profession. But how do you find such a student in the remote bush where we worked? I figured it would probably be impossible and that I would simply give it to the most worthy candidate that I could find, regardless of what course they hoped to pursue.

Two young men, having been notified by our host Joseph, presented themselves at our door. Stephen and Emmanuel had been classmates in our home village of Bahakwenu. Both had done very well in primary school. Both had had to wait five years to proceed to secondary school (high school), due to the usual: "lack of fees." They had both done exceedingly well in secondary school, despite the long wait to get there. Both had abandoned any hope of being able to continue their educations, despite their strong desire and ability. Emmanuel's parents had died of AIDS. Stephen was one of 10 kids. Both were doing what they could to help family members survive. Stephen had dreamed of becoming a doctor. Emmanuel had a passion for business. Now here they were at my doorstep, their eyes alive with hope.

I explained to them the situation; that I was hoping to find a writer, someone that wanted to become a journalist, but that I realized it would be unlikely that I would do so. I gave them applications and asked them each to write an essay, which they did. The next day they were back, with beautiful essays in hand. But even more touching than their essays was the information they brought me; they knew of an outstanding young man that was an excellent writer. Because of his poverty he'd not been able to "go to university," but was studying communications at a small college. They felt they needed to tell me that he would be the perfect candidate for the "Tim St. Clair scholarship."

I was stunned. They thought I had just one scholarship to offer. How could they bring me this information when they knew it would jeopardize their own once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? What made them willing to make this kind of a sacrifice? I'd experienced similar incidences in this community and I often found myself asking, how do people in such dire circumstances maintain such a high level of integrity? From where does their "moral fiber" and their deep strength come? How has our competitive culture seemingly weakened such values?

Tim would have loved to explore these questions with me. He would have loved to see all three of these students sponsored. And we would have wanted me to find a young woman as well. He'd be screaming injustice if that didn't happen. Surely there is no better way to honor Tim and his integrity, his love of learning and his burning desire to help those most in need than to offer the gift of education.

It seems right to invite you, the West Seattle Community, to join in this opportunity to contribute to a legacy for Tim. For years you were influenced by Tim's sharp wit, his dedication to fairness, and his devotion to his profession and his community. You can join us in honoring him by making a tax-deductible contribution to the Tim St. Clair scholarship fund, care of Koins for Kenya-Samburu. As a close friend of Tim's, I will personally oversee the scholarships and send you information about the students.

And to Tim's fledgling students, carrying his name on the other side of this big globe, I would say, "Learn well under Tim's wing. Take your new words and fly."

Rinda T. Hayes is director, Koins for Kenya Samburu, 5314 Tualata Court, Lake Oswego, Oregon 97035. Koins for Kenya is a 501 (C) 3 organization administered exclusively by volunteers. Contact Rinda at rindah@koinsforkenya.org and see www.koinsforkenya.org