Johannah M., Oakwood High School
The Gain of Giving
“Some kids don’t have time to be sad because they are busy taking care of themselves,” my mother told me, as I whined and cried about not getting a toy. “You need to learn to give and feel the happiness it brings, so I''ll buy the toy but not for you.” This was an intense learning curve for me.
I was in Africa with my mother back in 2014, I perused my mom as she bought things like blankets, candy, food, and toys. Once we stepped into the toy store I felt myself get greedy. I ran through the aisles grabbing toy after toy begging my mother for them; that''s when the learning started. She took the toys, walked to the cashier, and bought them all: I was stunned. We returned to the car and drove to a house, almost like a castle. I didn’t know what I was doing here - all I wanted was to go home and play with my toys. We walked to the front desk and said we had a donation, “Here, Johannah, come with me and I’ll show you what it feels like to be truly happy.” They brought in the kids, they were all frail and skinny but very well-behaved. She told me to go around and give each kid a toy. I didn’t want to but I saw the look in her eyes and didn’t dare disobey. As I walked around, the smiles and laughter woke up something inside me. I was having more fun than I would have had with the toys by myself. I played with the other kids and they told me one story - shook me to my core.
The story was about a girl named Dhakiya, she was light-hearted and extremely smart. As a young child, she had to fend for herself with her brother Omari. They had been wandering for days and at one point she felt as though all hope had been lost. She was lying in an alley holding her brother as he cried from hunger. She felt her breath slipping away and knew it was the end. When she woke up she felt warm and safe before she finally closed her eyes. When she woke she found that she was in a warm bed next to her brother. This place was the same orphanage that my mom grew up in. That moment in time scared me. It ripped me open but instead of sadness and pain coming out I got a wave of determination that no kid should ever have to feel like that again.
I have had that memory since I was four years old, and since then I am always willing to help. Every Sunday I volunteer at my church and my family still sends money to that same home where I found my love for giving. This essay is a thank you for kindling my love for giving back and spreading my message to others.
