The Day In Tanzania Skateboards Came Out

By Carley Belanger

Pictured: Brian Eckhert, Carley Belanger, and Katie Belanger with the kids.

We were staying at technical school for young men in Dodoma, when Brian Eckhert, who has been skating most of his life, asked one of the priests if there was any way we could check out the skatepark and maybe borrow a couple of skateboards. Father Swai kind of laughed before saying something along the lines of:

“Well… just so you know, if the kids who don’t go to school hear the boards coming out, they’ll come.” At the time I did not fully understand what he meant.

Then the boards came out. And suddenly kids started appearing from everywhere.

Not slowly either. Sprinting in. Flying through side streets. Showing up completely out of breath. Some of them had either heard there were skateboards at Don Bosco or were waiting for them to come out, and many ran and ran as fast as they could to come and have the chance to skate for a little while.

One kid grabbed a skateboard before even saying “Jambo,” hello in Swahili — causing Father Swai to laugh and gently remind him that maybe he should greet the visitors first. And the boards themselves were, as a true skater would say, ‘absolutely smoked.’

Not lightly used. Razor-tailed decks. Wheels worn down to almost nothing. Trucks squeaking and barely tight enough to skate. Graphics scraped off years ago. Some of these boards were probably older than the kids riding them.

Nobody cared.

The second they stepped on them, these kids ripped. (skateboard term for they were amazing) And I mean ripped. One kid started bombing across rough concrete on a board that looked like it should’ve snapped in half years ago.

Another spent probably an hour trying the same trick over and over—slamming, laughing, and popping right back up like it was the most normal thing in the world. Brian kept looking around like, “They are unbelievable!”

Ten kids would naturally rotate two boards without even talking about it. Someone would land something tiny and the entire park would explode screaming and with energy.

Skateboarding and Appreciation in Its Purest Form

It reminded me of what people probably loved about skating in the first place Just pure obsession. One of the priests let us know why he loves to bring the boards out in the first place. A lot of these kids don’t attend school regularly or if at all. Some spend most of their days wandering around the city. The priests at Dodoma Don Bosco Technical Institute have realized skateboarding gives them a real way to connect.

The skatepark becomes an entry point—a place where trust gets built naturally.

Kids come for the boards, but while they’re there the priests talk with them, encourage them, get to know them, and slowly try to nudge them toward school, structure, and community. And honestly, to me, that is what authentic skating is. Not perfectly curated clips online. Not expensive setups. Not trying to look cool.

It looks more like kids running across the city for the chance to skate for twenty minutes. Showing up together, rotating boards, and cheering loud for the smallest wins. Kids having a place where they’re known and welcomed. Older kids helping younger kids land tricks, sharing boards without complaining, and getting back up a hundred times because they love it enough to keep trying. That part honestly stayed with me more than anything else.

The Lesson in Access and Gratitude

Back home, it’s easy to forget how much access changes things. But you could tell how much skating meant to these kids.

It was a reminder that access creates opportunity. Just like a skateboard can create community and opportunity, access to clean water gives children more time for school, friendships, and simply getting to be kids — which is a part of why Water 4 Mercy exists. And they were grateful for every second on those boards.

That day also connected so much to why [Water 4 Mercy] partners with Don Bosco Technical Institutes in the first place. At Don Bosco you constantly see people meeting young kids where they are first — whether through education, technical training, sports, agriculture, mentorship, or even skateboarding.

Because sometimes changing someone’s future starts with something as simple as giving them a reason to show up. And that afternoon, the reason was skateboarding.

It made me realize how something really small can completely change someone’s direction. I think it can look like this: a couple beat-up boards, a crowd of kids, and a place that feels safe enough to keep coming back. Skateboarding didn’t just fill an afternoon—it opened a door. And it reminded me that the most powerful change often starts the same way: meeting people where they are, and giving them a reason to show up.