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At age seven， Gideon Gidori knew exactly what he wanted to be： a spaceship pilot.
The only thing was， he was living in a tiny Tanzanian village where schools only went through grade six and books about space were scarce.
But that didn’t stop him. Now 15， Gidori is determined to become Tanzania’s very first astronaut.
Gidori has always been fascinated with the stars and spent his boyhood nights staring at the clear skies above his hometown. “I think there is much more up there than there is down here， and I want to know what that is，” he says. When he becomes an astronaut， he hopes his first stop will be the moon—one of Jupiter’s moons， that is.
“They say that on Europa， there’s life，”he says. “I want to be part of the crew that investigates it.”
With the help of Epic Change， his dream isn’t just wishful thinking. The nonprofit， which raises money for education and technology， gave him a scholarship to study in the U.S. This May， Gidori completed his first year of flight-training school at Florida Air Academy.
To finance his next school year， he’s using the allure of potato salad. Tanzanian astronaut potato salad， to be exact.
Inspired by the entrepreneur who raised more than $60，000 to make potato salad on Kickstarter， Gidori and his host family—Epic Change co-founders Sanjay Patel and Stacey Monk—are using the online platform to raise $35，000 to cover tuition and fees for next year. On their Kickstarter page， the trio has promised to throw the “greatest potato salad party in Tanzanian history” the day Gidori lifts off into space for the first time.
And the Tanzanian teen means it； he already has an experimental recipe in the works. As of July 22nd， a little more than $12，000 has been raised on Kickstarter and Rally.org.
Patel says Gidori was a precocious kid， even when they first met in 2007.
He did well at school， despite limited resources. Because there was only one textbook for the entire class， lessons often consisted of copying notes from the board and memorizing them. Outside of school， Gidori says he went from library to library， reading the few books they had on space， science and astronauts.
He also learned how to be resourceful. Take soccer， for example. “Back at home， if you didn’t have a ball， you would literally take plastic bags， paper and socks to make one，” he says. “Nothing would stop them from playing.”
And nothing will stop him from pursuing his goal. “Just watching him grow， I have no doubt in my mind that that’s what he’s going to be，” Patel says. Last summer， Monk pulled Gidori out of class and delivered the piece of news that put him a giant leap closer to Jupiter’s moon. Florida Air Academy had accepted him， and Epic Change had awarded him a scholarship to cover part of his costs.
“It was so amazing that I couldn’t believe it for a second，” Gidori says. “But it was real.”
Without a visa， he wouldn’t be able to go. And he only had a month to get one. He rode a bus for eight hours to reach the U.S. Embassy in Dar es Salaam. “We got his visa maybe two or three days before he had to report to school，” Monk says.
Money was another issue； Patel and Monk still had to figure out a way to cover the rest of the tuition. In the end， the pair used what would have been their own salary to pay Gidori’s school fees.
By fall， Gidori had left a world where textbooks were rare and entered an environment where every student had to have an iPad—and expectations were high.
His limited English meant he had to keep his iPad and notebook nearby， looking up words he didn’t know and writing down the definitions.
Gidori learned the hard way that there were no more easy A’s. In Tanzania， 81 was a top grade. He got a 79 on a biology test at the academy and was told that wasn’t good enough. When Monk told him he needed at least a 90， he insisted he couldn’t do it.
“He would say， ‘I can’t read a novel. That’s a lot of English. I’ve never done that before，’” says Monk， “or， ‘I can’t get an A on my biology test.’”
But sure enough， Gidori earned straight A’s by the end of the year. When he felt discouraged， he’d think of those who’ve supported him： “My country， my continent， my family and friends—I don’t want to disappoint them. I want to make them proud.”
And Gidori is serious about potato salad. He was reluctant to say what was in his recipe， but after a little prodding， he gave up one secret ingredient—a special spice made from Tanzanian ginger. If you’re as curious as I am about the taste， he’s willing to trade his experimental recipe for a bit of support.
七歲的时候，吉迪恩·吉多里就已经知道自己日后的职业：成为一名太空船飞行员。
唯一的问题是，他生活在坦桑尼亚的一个小村子里，学校只能上到六年级，而且关于太空的书籍十分缺乏。
但这些都无法阻碍他。现在已经15岁的吉多里决心要成为坦桑尼亚的第一名宇航员。
吉多里一直对星星很着迷。童年时，他每晚都会看着家乡上空那片清澈的星空。“我想，天上的东西比地上的多得多，我想知道它们是什么，”他说。等他成为宇航员以后，他希望自己的第一站是卫星——木星的其中一颗卫星。
“他们说在木卫二上存在生命，”他说。“我想成为研究木卫二的成员之一。”
在“巨变”这个为教育和技术提供筹款的非营利机构的帮助下，他的梦想并非痴心妄想。该机构为他提供了一笔到美国学习的奖学金。今年5月，吉多里在佛罗里达空军学校完成了飞行训练学校的第一年学习。 为了筹集下一年的学费，他使出了土豆沙拉的诱惑。确切地说，是坦桑尼亚宇航员做的土豆沙拉。
Kickstarter网站上某企业家以制作土豆沙拉的名义筹得超过6万美元，受此启发，吉多里和他的寄宿家庭——“巨变”的联合创办人桑杰·帕特尔和史黛丝·蒙克——正在用网上平台筹集3.5万美元，用以支付明年的学杂费。在他们的Kickstarter网页上，三人承诺，在吉多里第一次飞进太空的那天，他们将举行“坦桑尼亚历史上最大型的土豆沙拉派对”。
这位坦桑尼亚少年可不是闹着玩的；他已经在准备一份试验配方。截至7月22日，Kickstarter和Rally.org网站上的捐款已经超过1.2万美元。
帕特尔说，早在他们2007年第一次见面的时候，他就知道吉多里少年老成。
尽管资源有限，但他在学校的成绩不错。由于整个班只有一本课本，课程往往只是抄黑板上的笔记，以及背下它们。在学校以外，吉多里说他走遍了各个图书馆，阅读仅有的关于太空、科学和宇航员方面的书籍。
他也学会了如何充分利用资源。以足球为例，“在家乡，如果没有球，你真的会用胶袋、纸和袜子做一个，”他说。“没有什么可以阻止他们玩乐。”
同样，没有什么可以阻止他追求自己的目标。“看着他成长，我坚信他会成功的，”帕特尔说。
去年夏天，蒙克将吉多里从教室里拉了出来，带给他那则大幅拉近他与木星卫星距离的消息：佛罗里达空军学校录取了他，“巨变”则奖给他一笔奖学金，让他得以支付一部分开销。
“真是太棒了，我一开始都不敢相信，”吉多里说。“然而那是真的。”
没有签证，他无法去美国，而他只有一个月时间去获得签证。他坐了8小时的公交车到达位于（首都）达累斯萨拉姆的美国大使馆。“我们可能是在距离其學校最后报到日的前两三天才拿到他的签证的，”蒙克说。
资金是另一个问题；帕特尔和蒙克还要想办法筹集余下的学费。最后，两人用了原本作为自己工资的那笔钱为吉多里支付了学费。
到了秋季，吉多里已经离开了那个课本匮乏的世界，进入了每个学生都必须有一台iPad的环境——而且人们对学生的要求也相当高。
吉多里有限的英语意味着他不得不把iPad和笔记本带在身边，随时查找不懂的生词，并记下词意。
吉多里经过一番艰辛才了解到，现在要拿到A不再那么容易了。在坦桑尼亚，81分已经是高分。他在（美国）学校的一次生物测验中得了79分，却被告知不够好。当蒙克说他至少要拿一个90分时，吉多里坚持说自己无法做到。
“他会说：‘我读不了小说，太多英文了，我之前从未做过，’”蒙克说，“或者（他会说）‘我无法在生物测验中考到A。’”
然而不出所料，吉多里在学年末拿了全A。感到气馁时，他会想到那些曾经支持自己的人：“我的祖国，我的大陆，我的亲朋好友——我不想令他们失望，我想让他们为我感到自豪。”
而吉多里对土豆沙拉也是认真的。他不太想谈论自己的配方，但在一番催促之下，他终于透漏了一个秘密配料——一种由坦桑尼亚生姜制成的特制辛香料。如果你和我一样对这个沙拉的味道很好奇，吉多里很愿意用他的试验配方换取一点支持。
The only thing was， he was living in a tiny Tanzanian village where schools only went through grade six and books about space were scarce.
But that didn’t stop him. Now 15， Gidori is determined to become Tanzania’s very first astronaut.
Gidori has always been fascinated with the stars and spent his boyhood nights staring at the clear skies above his hometown. “I think there is much more up there than there is down here， and I want to know what that is，” he says. When he becomes an astronaut， he hopes his first stop will be the moon—one of Jupiter’s moons， that is.
“They say that on Europa， there’s life，”he says. “I want to be part of the crew that investigates it.”
With the help of Epic Change， his dream isn’t just wishful thinking. The nonprofit， which raises money for education and technology， gave him a scholarship to study in the U.S. This May， Gidori completed his first year of flight-training school at Florida Air Academy.
To finance his next school year， he’s using the allure of potato salad. Tanzanian astronaut potato salad， to be exact.
Inspired by the entrepreneur who raised more than $60，000 to make potato salad on Kickstarter， Gidori and his host family—Epic Change co-founders Sanjay Patel and Stacey Monk—are using the online platform to raise $35，000 to cover tuition and fees for next year. On their Kickstarter page， the trio has promised to throw the “greatest potato salad party in Tanzanian history” the day Gidori lifts off into space for the first time.
And the Tanzanian teen means it； he already has an experimental recipe in the works. As of July 22nd， a little more than $12，000 has been raised on Kickstarter and Rally.org.
Patel says Gidori was a precocious kid， even when they first met in 2007.
He did well at school， despite limited resources. Because there was only one textbook for the entire class， lessons often consisted of copying notes from the board and memorizing them. Outside of school， Gidori says he went from library to library， reading the few books they had on space， science and astronauts.
He also learned how to be resourceful. Take soccer， for example. “Back at home， if you didn’t have a ball， you would literally take plastic bags， paper and socks to make one，” he says. “Nothing would stop them from playing.”
And nothing will stop him from pursuing his goal. “Just watching him grow， I have no doubt in my mind that that’s what he’s going to be，” Patel says. Last summer， Monk pulled Gidori out of class and delivered the piece of news that put him a giant leap closer to Jupiter’s moon. Florida Air Academy had accepted him， and Epic Change had awarded him a scholarship to cover part of his costs.
“It was so amazing that I couldn’t believe it for a second，” Gidori says. “But it was real.”
Without a visa， he wouldn’t be able to go. And he only had a month to get one. He rode a bus for eight hours to reach the U.S. Embassy in Dar es Salaam. “We got his visa maybe two or three days before he had to report to school，” Monk says.
Money was another issue； Patel and Monk still had to figure out a way to cover the rest of the tuition. In the end， the pair used what would have been their own salary to pay Gidori’s school fees.
By fall， Gidori had left a world where textbooks were rare and entered an environment where every student had to have an iPad—and expectations were high.
His limited English meant he had to keep his iPad and notebook nearby， looking up words he didn’t know and writing down the definitions.
Gidori learned the hard way that there were no more easy A’s. In Tanzania， 81 was a top grade. He got a 79 on a biology test at the academy and was told that wasn’t good enough. When Monk told him he needed at least a 90， he insisted he couldn’t do it.
“He would say， ‘I can’t read a novel. That’s a lot of English. I’ve never done that before，’” says Monk， “or， ‘I can’t get an A on my biology test.’”
But sure enough， Gidori earned straight A’s by the end of the year. When he felt discouraged， he’d think of those who’ve supported him： “My country， my continent， my family and friends—I don’t want to disappoint them. I want to make them proud.”
And Gidori is serious about potato salad. He was reluctant to say what was in his recipe， but after a little prodding， he gave up one secret ingredient—a special spice made from Tanzanian ginger. If you’re as curious as I am about the taste， he’s willing to trade his experimental recipe for a bit of support.
七歲的时候，吉迪恩·吉多里就已经知道自己日后的职业：成为一名太空船飞行员。
唯一的问题是，他生活在坦桑尼亚的一个小村子里，学校只能上到六年级，而且关于太空的书籍十分缺乏。
但这些都无法阻碍他。现在已经15岁的吉多里决心要成为坦桑尼亚的第一名宇航员。
吉多里一直对星星很着迷。童年时，他每晚都会看着家乡上空那片清澈的星空。“我想，天上的东西比地上的多得多，我想知道它们是什么，”他说。等他成为宇航员以后，他希望自己的第一站是卫星——木星的其中一颗卫星。
“他们说在木卫二上存在生命，”他说。“我想成为研究木卫二的成员之一。”
在“巨变”这个为教育和技术提供筹款的非营利机构的帮助下，他的梦想并非痴心妄想。该机构为他提供了一笔到美国学习的奖学金。今年5月，吉多里在佛罗里达空军学校完成了飞行训练学校的第一年学习。 为了筹集下一年的学费，他使出了土豆沙拉的诱惑。确切地说，是坦桑尼亚宇航员做的土豆沙拉。
Kickstarter网站上某企业家以制作土豆沙拉的名义筹得超过6万美元，受此启发，吉多里和他的寄宿家庭——“巨变”的联合创办人桑杰·帕特尔和史黛丝·蒙克——正在用网上平台筹集3.5万美元，用以支付明年的学杂费。在他们的Kickstarter网页上，三人承诺，在吉多里第一次飞进太空的那天，他们将举行“坦桑尼亚历史上最大型的土豆沙拉派对”。
这位坦桑尼亚少年可不是闹着玩的；他已经在准备一份试验配方。截至7月22日，Kickstarter和Rally.org网站上的捐款已经超过1.2万美元。
帕特尔说，早在他们2007年第一次见面的时候，他就知道吉多里少年老成。
尽管资源有限，但他在学校的成绩不错。由于整个班只有一本课本，课程往往只是抄黑板上的笔记，以及背下它们。在学校以外，吉多里说他走遍了各个图书馆，阅读仅有的关于太空、科学和宇航员方面的书籍。
他也学会了如何充分利用资源。以足球为例，“在家乡，如果没有球，你真的会用胶袋、纸和袜子做一个，”他说。“没有什么可以阻止他们玩乐。”
同样，没有什么可以阻止他追求自己的目标。“看着他成长，我坚信他会成功的，”帕特尔说。
去年夏天，蒙克将吉多里从教室里拉了出来，带给他那则大幅拉近他与木星卫星距离的消息：佛罗里达空军学校录取了他，“巨变”则奖给他一笔奖学金，让他得以支付一部分开销。
“真是太棒了，我一开始都不敢相信，”吉多里说。“然而那是真的。”
没有签证，他无法去美国，而他只有一个月时间去获得签证。他坐了8小时的公交车到达位于（首都）达累斯萨拉姆的美国大使馆。“我们可能是在距离其學校最后报到日的前两三天才拿到他的签证的，”蒙克说。
资金是另一个问题；帕特尔和蒙克还要想办法筹集余下的学费。最后，两人用了原本作为自己工资的那笔钱为吉多里支付了学费。
到了秋季，吉多里已经离开了那个课本匮乏的世界，进入了每个学生都必须有一台iPad的环境——而且人们对学生的要求也相当高。
吉多里有限的英语意味着他不得不把iPad和笔记本带在身边，随时查找不懂的生词，并记下词意。
吉多里经过一番艰辛才了解到，现在要拿到A不再那么容易了。在坦桑尼亚，81分已经是高分。他在（美国）学校的一次生物测验中得了79分，却被告知不够好。当蒙克说他至少要拿一个90分时，吉多里坚持说自己无法做到。
“他会说：‘我读不了小说，太多英文了，我之前从未做过，’”蒙克说，“或者（他会说）‘我无法在生物测验中考到A。’”
然而不出所料，吉多里在学年末拿了全A。感到气馁时，他会想到那些曾经支持自己的人：“我的祖国，我的大陆，我的亲朋好友——我不想令他们失望，我想让他们为我感到自豪。”
而吉多里对土豆沙拉也是认真的。他不太想谈论自己的配方，但在一番催促之下，他终于透漏了一个秘密配料——一种由坦桑尼亚生姜制成的特制辛香料。如果你和我一样对这个沙拉的味道很好奇，吉多里很愿意用他的试验配方换取一点支持。