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Dreaming of America in Liberia

Salwa Bamba provides a first-person account of how the generosity of others propelled her success.

Salwa Bamba

My name is Salwa Rita Mourtada Bamba. I am originally from Liberia in West Africa, and I came to the United States seeking asylum when I was 20 years old.

Before the civil war, life in Liberia was everything a kid would hope for. I had two brothers and my older sister. We grew up together on a huge property where my father had a couple of stores and a restaurant. There were gazebos and tables all over the compound, a basketball court, volleyball court, and a playground with swings, merry-go-round, seesaw, monkey bars. It was a kid’s dream.

But when the war started in 1989, everything changed.

I was 12 when the country started to get tense. We could tell something was wrong, and we would see footage on TV of the massacres. We watched the rebels advance toward the capital and as they approached our area, we saw the fires, the looting, the rape. My father was captured and we didn’t see him for a long time. It was just me, my siblings and my mom in a camp. Everything was destroyed. We were sleeping on the floor. We had nothing.

Salwa Bamba with siblings in Liberia

We were reunited with my father in 1991, but not long after that, my sister Laila Annette was captured and murdered. Believe it or not, our family never sat down to talk about her death. I don’t think any of us have the courage to reminisce about her life because we’re afraid to break down. She had so many dreams. She would say, “I want to be an artist. I want to be a surgeon. I want to be a firefighter.”

After Laila’s death, my parents sent me to Ghana to stay with an acquaintance from church, who provided a place to live, but no other support. It was so difficult not having parents with me as a 14-year-old. When I got sick with typhoid fever, I had no one to take care of me. I would go to the hospital and there was no one to pay the bill.

Salwa Bamba as a teenager, she is smiling and wearing a white dress with pink, green and yellow geometric designs.

After I graduated from high school in Ghana, I started to dream about studying medicine in the United States. I had become interested in medicine during a period of relative peace in Liberia, when I helped United Nations doctors care for the sick and injured as a 13-year-old triage nurse. It brought me so much fulfillment to watch people get better. And I had always dreamed about America. In Liberia, all of our school books were from America, so I knew about Pecos Bill and tornados. At my dad’s restaurant, I would change my accent to speak like an American.

My dad had connections, so when I told him about my dream of studying in the United States, he talked to the American ambassador for me. Eventually, when I was 20, I came to New York City by myself. Reality hit me when I arrived at my aunt’s place in Queens and I saw that she had six children in a two-bedroom apartment. I started missing my nice beach back home.

After a year in New York City, I moved to Colorado, where my uncle lived, and I started pursuing a bachelor’s degree in nursing at CU Denver. Because of my temporary protected status, I was never eligible for federal or state aid, which meant I had to work for one semester to save up money, go to class for a semester, and then stop to save up money again. To add to the challenge, my temporary protected status would expire every 18 months, along with my driver’s license and my ability to work. That’s when I really had to hustle.

Later, when I had children, we relied on food stamps and food pantries. At one point, I was homeless and slept in my car with my son. Before one particular semester, I begged the bursar to let me register even though I didn’t have the money to cover the fees. He suggested I apply for scholarships. I said, “I don’t have a green card. I’m not eligible.” He replied, “You might find one or two that don’t have those requirements.” So, I looked and finally found one for $2,500. I applied, and lo and behold, I got it. From then on, I would always enter to win some award, and I would receive $1,500 here and there.

I also got help from people who knew what I was made of. My pastor loaned me $3,000 to pay for my first semester at CU. My brother loaned me a few hundred dollars here and there. When my dad was alive, he would send me money. And a few years ago, my mom loaned me $5,000 to pay for a semester of my master’s program. People have stood by me and pushed me. I stand on their shoulders today and I am proud.

Salwa with work colleagues at her clinic

My life changed when I graduated with my bachelor’s degree and got my nursing license. I moved out of my little condo where the landlord was after me every week and rented a beautiful apartment. Fifteen years after I arrived in America, I finally found my feet.

While I was working on my bachelor’s degree, I was always driving up and down Colfax Avenue. I watched the Fitzsimons campus being transformed into the Anschutz Medical Campus and I said to myself, “I will graduate from here one day.”

True to my word, I did graduate from the University of Colorado College of Nursing in 2020, and I currently work there as an assistant professor and at the CU Family Health Clinic as a nurse practitioner. I love my job. When I learn that a patient has done something I told them to do, I yell, “Oh my god!” and everyone comes running, thinking something’s wrong. But I’m just celebrating that my patient is doing OK. The saying is true: Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.

The benevolence of others has been crucial to the story of my success. I cannot overemphasize how their willingness to help and be of service has impacted my life and my children. My daughter and son are both scholarship recipients at CU Boulder, and my son is about to complete his engineering degree with scholarship support from the Engineering GoldShirt Program.

Sometimes I wish my journey would not have been so rough. But despite everything, I am blessed. Everything that happened along the way has prepared me for what I will be called to do tomorrow.

Salwa Bamba with family. They are wearing white shirts and blue jeans.

With scholarship support, Salwa Bamba graduated with three degrees from CU: a bachelor’s degree in nursing in 2011, a master’s degree in nursing in May 2020, and doctor of nursing practice degree in 2021. She joined the first nurse practitioner fellowship in geriatric medicine at the UCHealth Senior’s Clinic, and she serves as a board member of the CU College of Nursing Alumni Association and the Community College of Denver Business Administration Advisory Board.

Bamba is currently a clinical faculty member at the CU College of Nursing’s Belleview Point Clinic, a facility for patients from marginalized backgrounds. She also mentors high school students through Denver Public Schools and has worked with the Cherry Creek School District to host immunization drives for low-income students and families. As a student at the CU College of Nursing, Bamba and a group of classmates started Future Voices, an organization striving to amplify the voices of underrepresented nursing students. The group currently runs a mentorship program with Hinckley High School, hosts donation drives for books and scrubs, and fundraises to help nursing students pay for school. Bamba also runs the Laila A. Mourtada Foundation; named after Bamba’s sister, the foundation focuses on education and health literacy for women and girls in Liberia.

Why not build a research facility in Denver and ship it to Antarctica?

Why not build a research facility in Denver and ship it to Antarctica?

Why not build a research facility in Denver and ship it to Antarctica?

CU Denver's Colorado Building Workshop is educating future architects while taking on its most ambitious project yet.

Why not build a research facility in Denver and ship it to Antarctica?

Why not build a research facility in Denver and ship it to Antarctica?

CU Denver's Colorado Building Workshop is educating future architects while taking on its most ambitious project yet.

Tucked into the east side of Livingston Island off the Antarctica Peninsula is the Cape Shirreff field camp. Here, National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) scientists gather data on krill populations as part of global conservation efforts.

For three to six months each year, the NOAA scientists work in a monochromatic landscape of black volcanic rock, snow and ice, beneath a sun that never sets and in temperatures as low as -5°F. After finishing this physically taxing work each day, they return to their dilapidated living quarters where they often repair the facilities, remove mold and mildew and mop up standing water.

Thanks to students at the University of Colorado Denver, these rundown facilities will soon be a thing of the past.

Students come into our program wanting to learn about sustainability, so why not send them out to be part of the change they want to make in the world?
– Rick Sommerfeld, Assistant Professor

In spring 2022, 28 architecture students built a new dormitory, kitchen and living room for the scientists. In August, the buildings, which feature privacy, natural lighting and low-maintenance metal cladding, were taken apart, packed into shipping containers and sent on a 7,000-mile trip to Antarctica.

 

Sommerfeld and students discuss building models. From left to right: Antonio Valencia, Paola Larios, Caitlin Kennedy and Rick Sommerfeld

Sommerfeld and students discuss building models. 
From left to right: Antonio Valencia, Paola Larios, Caitlin Kennedy and Rick Sommerfe

 

The students who worked on this project are enrolled in the Colorado Building Workshop (CBW), a design-build certificate program run by CU Denver’s Department of Architecture that combines classroom learning with real-world experience.
 

Building on the Vision of One Donor

Rick Sommerfeld, assistant professor and the workshop’s director, says that philanthropy has been crucial to CBW’s growth over the years.  

"It took one person to see our vision and to understand that the work we were doing was important,” Sommerfeld says. “Don Johnson was the first donor to believe enough to invest in the people and the infrastructure.”

Johnson is the managing trustee of the Dr. C.W. Bixler Family Foundation. Through his initiative, the foundation’s support enabled the program to hire a teaching fellow, Will Koning, who is also a workshop graduate.  

“My time as a student in CBW was the formative experience of my architectural education, which continues to this day as the Bixler Fellow,” Koning says. “We have been able to work on important projects in incredible places.”

According to Sommerfeld, the program was able to take on more complex projects after Koning joined.

“Having Will around has been a huge impact to the program,” Sommerfeld explains. “We nearly doubled the number of students we could take on, and we went from working on tiny pavilions to community centers and now the Cape Shirreff project.”

The foundation’s funding also supports scholarships, safety equipment and tools. 

 

Workshop students Jasmine Jones and Caitlin Kennedy work on a drill press donated by the Dr. C.W. Bixler Family Foundation.

Workshop students Jasmine Jones and Caitlin Kennedy 
work on a drill press donated by the Dr. C.W. Bixler Family Foundation.

 

The students work with architecture firms, contractors and suppliers to complete projects that benefit the arts, education or the environment. After the program’s initial successes, architects began to donate time to critique student work while manufacturers provided free or reduced-cost building materials such as triple-pane windows.

“I think people are supportive because they see that we’re giving back and reinvesting in the community,” Sommerfeld says. “We’re able to take a client who has maybe $35,000 dollars for a community stage and deliver a $250,000 project. And we're trying to educate architects and make a better kind of architecture.”

The CBW ensures every donated dollar, pro bono hour and piece of equipment has a maximum impact on student education and the communities where they work.

Sommerfeld says graduates of the design-build program are in high demand from industry partners and architecture firms.  

“They call us and ask for our best graduates because they know they’re going to get that added set of skills with our students who have already seen a project through construction and dealt with budgets, developers and the bottom line,” he says.


Sustainability and Environmental Impacts  

In December 2022, Sommerfeld and seven CBW alumni will undertake the two-week journey to the Antarctic Peninsula. When they arrive at the Cape Shirreff field camp, they will camp out in tents for two months as they race against the Antarctic winter to reassemble the flat-packed living quarters.

Sommerfeld says the CBW students and alumni are personally invested in the project because they understand how the NOAA scientists’ research into krill populations impacts marine life. Krill serves as the main food source for fur seals, penguins, whales and other animals, making it a key part of the marine life food chain. Overharvesting krill by commercial fisheries can upset this delicate balance.

The NOAA scientists provide their data to the Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources, which works with its 26 member states to set krill harvesting quotas to protect marine ecosystems.

 

Phase one of the Cape Shirreff field camp project exhibited on the CU Denver campus before it was shipped to Antarctica. Photo by Rob Cleary

In June 2022, phase one of the Cape Shirreff field camp project was exhibited on the CU Denver campus before it was shipped to Antarctica. Photo by Rob Cleary.

 

With this in mind, sustainability and environmental impact were also top priorities for the students. Their design substitutes photovoltaic panels for fossil fuel, utilizes 90% recycled stainless steel and features energy saving triple-pane windows. The students also had to consider how to design a building to withstand the Antarctic climate, working closely with a contractor who specializes in Antarctic construction.

According to Sommerfeld, the Cape Shirreff project was an ideal way for students to apply their classroom learning to a real-world environment, albeit one 7,000 miles away.

“Antarctica is a very hard place to be working in right now because large parts of the ice shelf are crumbling into the sea as we speak,” Sommerfeld says. “But I think it’s important that we as architects find ways to do things more sustainably. These students come into our program wanting to learn about sustainability, so why not send them out to be part of the change they want to make in the world?”

CU Denver
Sean Coetzee Portrait

Sean Coetzee loved how media forensics—an emerging industry that uses technology to fight crime in the digital age—expanded the realm of what he did as a sound engineer. Yet in late 2013, one year away from completing his master’s at CU Denver in the Media Forensics program, Sean was diagnosed with colorectal cancer. He died only six weeks later at the age of 32.

 

“When I lost Sean I thought my life was over,” said his wife, Melissa Coetzee.

After months of sleeping, sobbing and binge-watching Netflix, Melissa started to think about Sean’s legacy. The idea of a scholarship in Sean’s name crossed her mind. She pulled herself off the couch, sat in front of her computer and decided to email CU Denver.

How do I create a scholarship? she wrote.

A scholarship in memory of her Sean, who never passed up the chance to browse the racks of a record store. Who played his guitar for hours. Who loved musicians like PJ Harvey, Nick Cave, Sigur Rós, Norah Jones, Queen, Frank Zappa, and the Beatles.

A life cut short, but a scholarship that will honor Sean foreverSean, a citizen of three different countries, master of two languages and relisher of a pint of Guinness.

Sean, the husband who captured her heart when they met in London—they bonded over a shared love of music and live events and never left each other's side for more than a few days since the moment they met.

Melissa realized that if she raised $25,000 a scholarship at CU Denver—a place she had never even visited—would last “in perpetuity.”

In other words, forever. Something tangible that would help generations of CU Denver students who want to make the world a safer, more just place. Just as Sean would have. Melissa had absolutely no idea how to start or if raising $25,000 was even going to be possible. But she had to try.

The first donation was $35 from a friend. A colleague of Sean’s donated $1,000. Their former landlord in London made a donation. Financial contributions came in from all over the globe. Within a year, more than 50 friends, family, colleagues and even complete strangers gave to the scholarship fund to honor Sean, a young man with the big heart and an endless well of kindness.

Sean was especially committed to ethics in media forensics, and he was excited to attend the College of Arts & Media. Even though his life was cut short, that excitement for learning lives on: the first recipient of the Sean P. Coetzee Memorial Scholarship was selected in 2016.

“Education was very important to Sean. If he had lived, he would have been an amazing professor,” said Melissa, who was awarded Sean’s degree posthumously at the CU Denver commencement ceremony in 2014. “Seeing all the people who contributed to the scholarship fund and how much Sean meant to them was very healing and very powerful for me. I know Sean would be proud, too.”

CU Denver
Old Main Building

Before there was the state of Colorado, there was the University of Colorado.

Before there was CU, a courageous and tenacious few were so profoundly committed to the transformative power of an education.

The idea of a public university in the young Colorado territory was considered a valuable and worthwhile pursuit as early as 1861. But political disputes, economic distress and local jealousies stalled the idea from becoming a reality for years. Some folks clamored that Colorado didn’t have any use for an academic institution.

But some early settlers never gave up.

First, there was the gift of land. Three Boulder families—Marinus and Annie Smith, George and Mary Andrews, and Anthony and Mary Arnett—collectively donated 51 acres of land on the heights south of Boulder Creek, which was formally accepted in January 1872 by the legislature as the permanent location of the future university.

Funds were still needed for a university building. Bitter rivalries among Colorado’s lawmakers, who wanted their communities selected instead as the home for a public university, continued to embroil the idea for another two years. Then, in January 1874, the Colorado Territorial Legislature agreed to provide $15,000, a sizeable sum in those days, toward a university on the condition Boulder citizens contribute an equal amount.

David Nichols, the territory’s speaker of the house and a Boulder resident, realized he needed to immediately raise the necessary funds, lest his town lose the opportunity.

Legend has it, Nichols said: “If $15,000 is what they want, we’ll get it.”  

Like Paul Revere, he rode by horseback that cold and rainy January night for five hours the 30 miles between Denver to Boulder to knock on the doors of ordinary citizens to see if they could—if they would—donate the money.

The fate of CU hung in the balance.

By the time a weary Nichols was back at his legislative seat in Denver the next morning, Boulder residents—104 parties, to be exact—had pledged the funds needed to secure the University of Colorado, and the appropriation bill passed.

Collectively, the citizens of Boulder committed a total of $16,806.66—more than enough to give the fledgling university a permanent home. Pledges ranged from $15 to $1,000. More than half the donors contributed fewer than $100. Finally, after long years of struggle, the University of Colorado was more than an idea—it had sufficient funds to begin the construction of the first university building.

On Sept. 20, 1875, the cornerstone for Old Main was laid. By the following spring, CU officially opened its doors, five months before the Centennial State joined the union in 1876.

After 15 years of effort, and though these early philanthropic contributions placed a true hardship on Boulder’s frontier families, their commitment to education remains an enduring testament to what CU stands for to this day.

It is a legacy upon which we continue to build and honor.

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William Mundo

When he graduated in May, William Mundo reached a milestone in his journey at the University of Colorado Denver.

It’s a journey that almost didn’t even start.

It’s good for him—and us—it did.

Before William devoted countless hours to his studies over four years and emerged as one of the university’s most well-known volunteers and respected student leaders, he and his mother had a pivotal conversation about whether he’d even attend college.  

“OK,” he recalls her saying. “You want to go to college. None of us have ever done it, but I’ll support you.”

But “it’s $10,000 a year,” he told her.

“We can’t pay that,” she said.

William insisted: “Mom, don’t worry.”

He had a plan.

William’s journey began modestly. Born in Los Angeles to parents who emigrated from Acapulco, Mexico, he and his family eventually moved to Leadville, high in the Colorado mountains. He remembers observing his father treating people in their community, so he assumed his father was a doctor.

“It wasn’t until I was much older that I figured out that my father didn’t get past sixth grade,” William says. “He had to drop out and help the family put food on the table since it was really difficult for my family in Mexico.”

Seeing his father care for his community inspired him: “I want to be a doctor. That really pushed me to pursue that career.”

At CU Denver, he studied public health and ethnic studies with an eye on medical schools. His goals include combating race-based health disparities and improving health care throughout the world, especially for impoverished communities. He’s also considering joining the Air Force with the hope to become a medical doctor in the military.

“I have a passion for serving others,” he says.

These paths wouldn’t have opened to him if he didn’t remain dedicated to his plan—the one he assured his mom would help him attend college.

“This doesn’t happen without scholarships,” William says. “They’ve made it possible for me to come to college and pursue my dream.”

CU Denver-based philanthropy like the Graham Family Scholarships and Alumni Association General Scholarships offered him assistance. So did the Latin American Educational Foundation and The White Rose Scholarship Foundation.

“They have really made an impact on my life because navigating the education system as a first-generation student is very difficult,” he says.

When others cared for him, he discovered the chance to care for others.

“It’s given me hope,” he says, “that there’s still people out there that really care about people like me and want us to do well.”

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