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I picked up my phone, ignored my partner’s rude remarks and
dialled
1300-874
. It seemed as though the dial tone was endless, until
the end of the constant beeping became apparent. The voice on the
other end of the line was soft and gentle, unlike that of the nasty and
vicious tone of my girlfriend.
A woman named Ashaki reassured me that the decision I was
about to make, was the right one. The generous middle-aged African
woman was advocating for change, and was volunteering her time to
aid these helpless people. The hole of pity in my chest only grew
larger as I listened to her tender voice that was filled with desperation.
The helpless African people needed a glimmer of hope, and I could
only dream of assisting them by providing my knowledge in
environmental science. She made me understand that poverty is not
an accident. Even though many think of it as bad luck or misfortune,
poverty is man-made and I know that it can be removed by the selfless
actions of humans. I want to be the change that this world needs.
Logging onto the computer, I immediately booked a one-way
flight to Kenya and, although I knew the risks and dangers of leaving
my girlfriend behind, I could not help but think of all the innocent
families that needed my help. I packed my bags and, as I headed for
the front door, I looked over at the tall woman sprawled messily over
the couch. Her long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, and
with a full face of makeup it was hard to see her natural beauty, but a
pretty face is nothing if the personality behind it shows nothing but
selfishness.
The bustling Gymbian streets were filled with the cries of lonely
and frightened children. Families were huddled together on-top of
the unstable rooftops that once sheltered their home. Pigs and cows
could be seen in the far paddocks, stranded and helpless as the water
made it impossible for them to walk. Injured, tired and frail residents
could be seen struggling to wade through the water that covered the
ground as far as the eye could see.
With Ashaki by my side I began to help a young girl, only looking
3 or 4, who had lost her mother in the most recent influx of rain. She
was standing against a doorway, with water pooling at her foot as she
held an old rag doll to her chest. Her thick curly hair was knotted
and her faded white dress was torn at the seams. Ashaki picked her
up and carried her weak body in her arms as we took her someplace
safer, but as much as we would have liked, we could not guarantee
Change
10