By Rev. Cecil “Ngoni” Tengatenga
(Opinion) Earlier this year, standing alongside U.S. Sen. Richard Blumenthal, U.S. Rep. Rosa DeLauro, Jill Snyder, and others on the Green to commemorate the enslaved mother and daughter Lucy and Lois Tritton and their recognition of the Freedom Trail, I was reminded of the unfinished work to fulfill New Haven’s promise.
As an African immigrant, I was struck by the continuity of a story that stretches across centuries and continents: people denied full participation in society insisting on their dignity, claiming their voice, and widening the circle of possibility for those who follow.
That story is New Haven’s story.
For more than a decade, New Haven has been home to my family. It is where my wife, Lindsey “Eichler” Tengatenga, and I have raised our children, served through the Edgewood School community and PTA, worshipped with our neighbors, opened our home to students and families in transition, and partnered with organizations committed to strengthening our city.
Long before any conversation about Lindsey running for alder, there was service.
That commitment grows from convictions older than our time in New Haven. I come from a multiracial family shaped by faith, public service, labor activism, and democratic participation under colonial rule in southern Africa. During the era of the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland, Black African workers sustained farms, railways, mines, schools, churches, and public institutions while often being denied full political and economic rights.
For my family, labor activism was never simply about wages. It was about dignity.
My maternal grandfather, Chimfumu “Cecil Richard” Nkhoma, served as the medic for Black railroad workers across Northern Rhodesia, Southern Rhodesia, and Nyasaland. Beyond his clinical work, he helped lead regional movements for workers’ rights from Gwelo, efforts that became intertwined with broader struggles for democratic participation and self-determination during Zimbabwe’s independence movement.
Those values continued into my childhood in Malawi. In the 2000s, amid debt crises, state capture, and the HIV/AIDS epidemic, my parents carried that legacy forward. My father, through chairing the Public Affairs Committee of Malawi and the global Anglican Consultative Council, advocated for democracy, national debt jubilee, and expanded access to HIV treatment. My mother represented women in the United Nations’s Commission on the Status of Women, advancing goals for women’s empowerment. Together, they modeled a belief that citizenship carries both rights and responsibilities: that education matters, public service matters, and societies should be judged by how widely they share opportunity.
As an Episcopal priest, educator, and public health scientist, I found those same principles reflected in institutions dedicated to human dignity, education, civic engagement, and the common good. Faith, I learned, calls us not only to charity but also to justice.
Those experiences shape how Lindsey and I understand New Haven.
One expression of that commitment is our work on educational opportunity. Today, more than 521,000 Connecticut residents carry nearly $20 billion in federal student-loan debt. Student debt is often framed as a financial challenge, but it is also a civic one. When graduates spend decades repaying loans, homeownership is delayed, entrepreneurship is postponed, and economic mobility becomes harder to achieve.
The question is not simply whether people can attend college. It is whether education remains a bridge forward. That conviction led us to help found the Student Loan Fund, which fought for the staffing of Student Loan Ombudsperson, and over $12 million in loan repayment relief.
The concern became deeply personal during the Covid-19 pandemic. While working as a substitute teacher in New Haven-area schools, I witnessed the resilience of students and educators under extraordinary circumstances. I also saw immigrant and working-class families navigating interrupted learning, housing instability, transportation barriers, and economic hardship.
I briefly taught academic literacy to immigrant students at High School in the Community and served in a second-grade classroom at Edgewood during the pandemic. One high school student stands out: His path to graduation was threatened not by ability, but by family obligations, transportation barriers, and disrupted schooling. He did not need another test. He needed adults willing to help him navigate the obstacles in his way. That conviction continues to guide our support for youth employment, apprenticeships, workforce development, and mentorship programs that expand opportunity for young people across New Haven.
Our commitment to opportunity has also shaped our approach to housing. Over the years, we have welcomed students, educators, artists, faith leaders, organizers, and neighbors into our home. Through those relationships, we gained a deeper understanding of how housing insecurity affects educational success, health, employment, and family stability.
We have supported efforts to strengthen New Haven’s Coordinated Access Network and its implementation with organizations such as Columbus House, Liberty Community Services, and Leeway. Yet the scale of the crisis remains daunting. Across Connecticut, affordable housing shortages continue to place thousands of families under severe strain.
The same interconnected perspective guides our public health work. Throughout my career, I have collaborated with health systems, researchers, policymakers, and community organizations working on hepatitis C elimination, health equity, and public health infrastructure. We have also supported efforts to address childhood lead exposure, one of the most persistent environmental injustices affecting older urban communities.
Viewed separately, these challenges can seem unrelated. In reality, they are deeply connected.
A child exposed to lead faces educational barriers. A family burdened by housing costs faces economic barriers. A graduate carrying heavy student debt faces barriers to mobility. Different systems. Different symptoms. The same underlying question: who gets a fair chance to flourish?
New Haven is blessed with extraordinary institutions and extraordinary people, yet too many residents remain excluded from the opportunities those assets create. Our challenge is not simply to celebrate success, but to share it.
This Elm City has given our family opportunities to serve, belong, and contribute. These values are not separate from Lindsey’s candidacy; they are the foundation from which it is emerging. They continue to guide her commitment to ensuring that the city’s promise is shared by all who call it home.
Cecil “Ngoni” Tengatenga is a public health scientist and educator at UConn Health who serves as a priest in the Episcopal Church and is married to Lindsey “Eichler” Tengatenga, a candidate for Ward 24 alder in the Nov. 10 special election.