Author's Bio
Daring to dream. Who doesn’t? That you will be the next big thing- the lady or lad to change the world. To win a Nobel Peace Prize in the camera lights and have everyone wish to say, “He is my friend,” or, “She was my classmate.” The question we all have is; how do we get there? It is one most never find an answer to. Only the chosen few, I being among them. I had everything in place. All plans analysed, and no stone left unturned. All at the age of 18. Can you imagine? Having graduated from high school, the world was waiting for me with open arms. I was the hero it needed.
For a long time, the children’s orphanage near our home sparked my interest. How did they live? What mattered was that it would be made better. I’m a hero, remember? Walking into the small compound on a warm Sunday afternoon, I met a few girls seated together on the grass, enjoying the sunshine. They quickly directed me to the matron’s office. She was momentarily absent, so the only option was to wait in the makeshift library as she was called to see the Samaritan visitor. It seemed to be a boardroom of sorts, with chairs arranged around the oval wooden table. The perfect place to hold a meeting with a serious philanthropist as he explained what he had to offer. Don’t be fooled, however. It was only a small room with little space to navigate. The books were stacked along one wall. They were old and dilapidated. My pursuit of literature had heightened the last few weeks, but these looked nothing like my piece of cake.
Without wasting time, I gave my side of the story. I was from the neighbourhood and had always wanted to know how I could help orphans but my schooling schedule hadn’t allowed me to do so. That would no longer be the case as I now had plenty of time. The matron, Mama Njeri, was short, stout and had a loving face with the potential to turn violent if someone misbehaved—an African mother. She asked me a few questions to unearth my background to ensure I wasn’t a wolf masquerading in sheep’s skin. No biggie. I had nothing to hide after all. I was insistent that I was ready to help the institution in any way required, yet I gave a caveat that having an opportunity to work with and talk to the young boys and girls was a priority. Helping them with their schoolwork was also not far-fetched. I won her trust and soon had the boys called in for introductions.
Kim, Joseph, John, Sam and Kevin didn’t seem excited to see me, just like the girls earlier. They seemed to speak their own language and reluctantly at that. To hold their discussions amidst my presence. To wait for this stranger to go so they could return to their everyday life. It wasn’t their choice to be here. They’d been forced to. I understood. I’d have felt no different. Who is this so eager to help but has never gone through the same? Who lives in the comfort of his parent’s home down the road? Who isn’t prevented from leaving his compound fearing for his safety? Who doesn’t depend on well-wishers to feed him?
Kim, John and Joseph never knew their parents. Kevin’s father brought him here when he could no longer sustain him, while Sam came alone when he realised his grandmother was struggling too. So how could I assist? They wanted a ball since their last had burst in the fence. They wanted to aid in Chemistry because their results weren’t good. I could always pass by on holidays like this one. Or could I? Could I, a mere form four leaver, afford to buy them a new ball every time one burst to pieces? Could I take them through a topic I never understood, a subject I hated? It was then that it dawned on me.
The reason they had all been so indifferent towards me. They had seen many like myself. Many brought nothing but fine speeches about what they could be rather than supplying support to get them there.
Comments are closed.