"Education fosters Hope."

If you're too small to make a living as a professional athlete or doesn't have the voice/vocal to make it as a musician then let me put it in plain views for you: education is the  best option for a pauper to mold his/her own star. In addition, if you're the next Neil deGrasse Tyson it can all be free but if you're far from extraordinary like myself don't worry, it can also be done through scholarship(s) if you bust your behind, which is something I've vowed to do. The best part of it is there is no catch either.

“The earthquake destroyed what little we had.” The sentence triggered an instant jolt to my consciousness and before I knew it, my consciousness was being abruptly pulled away from my corporal body and pushed into the monitor to be teleported to Haiti where I became that teenage boy. Thankfully, my family and I survived from the catastrophe. Not that my family had any valuable possessions but we had a home. Ok let me take that back, it was hardly a home; more like an abode with a roof but I loved it dearly because we built it from the ground up: one brick at a time. Even at twelve, I had visions of turning our brick-house into a villa with beds and comfortable mattresses for every single one of us. Of course each beds would be equipped with nets so we wouldn’t be ravaged my mosquitoes, boy those blood suckers were vicious.

Since the quake was in-discriminatory, we couldn’t turn to anyone else for help. Instead, we banded along with other devastated survivors to form tents out on paved road to survive. We would take refuge in the tent for the next three plus years. During those three plus years, while others teenagers made friends and did what typical teenagers would do, which was to form a group only to run around aimlessly without any purposes. Instead of joining my contemporaries, I kept to myself. Unknowingly, little by little, I manifested self-induced ostracism. Perhaps it was my circadian cycle because although I had plenty of free time, I couldn’t sleep. Each time I tried to close my eyes, I would see clips of my home being crumbled under the earthquake like the twin towers being collapsed helplessly before my terrified and grief stricken eyes. Worst of all, images were so vivid under the pitch black night that I can feel granulated dirt fall on my face as dislodged bricks were flying toward me. Before I knew it, I became conditioned to not close my eyes.

Consequently, while everyone was sleeping, I stayed up and peered through small openings from our tent to search for the brightest star. I started to wonder what made stars shine at night, why only during the night, and was it possible for me to mold one that would shine even during the day. Once I ponder about those questions, my surrounding became trivial and I began to search for answers. To no avail, no one around could answer my questions so I ventured away from the tent. Perhaps it was faith because I found my way to Georges and Antoine Izmery High School, in particular, a man who looked absolutely nothing like me. He had light orange skin with long hair and brown eyes. I've never met anyone like him. At first I was apprehensive, because I was after all by myself. Fortuitously, he knew how to speak French and we were able to communicate. He not only put me at ease but also embraced me with open arms and welcome me to the school.

I didn’t learn much that first day. I was both awe-struck and ecstatic as if I was a vagabond who was momentarily welcomed into a new home. I didn’t get a chance to ask my questions nor did I garner any answers but I knew right then and there that the place would become my saved haven. Thankfully, I was invited to come back. Shoot even if they had not invited me, oh you bet cha I would’ve found my way back to the same room. Although the school was about two hours in walking distance from where I was living, I didn’t mind waking up before the sunrise to make it to school on time because for the first time since the earthquake I finally had something to look forward to. I was no longer being haunted by images of my crumbling home; instead, I began to see pictures of the villa that I had envisioned. I didn’t just find the school, I also found ways to obtain my answers, and someone I can look up to and the best part it was that it all came from one origin: Education.

Just as quickly as my consciousness was teleported to Haiti, it quickly reconvened when the speaker for the International Youth Fellowship (IYF) stopped the video and ended the Information Session, which was being held in the lower level of the UTEP’s library . Aside from the little story, I want readers to become more aware and help support IYF with their concerted and genuine efforts to advocate for students to volunteer to become teachers and bring hope to the people of Haiti through education.

P.s I interlaced my story into the story I obtained from the information session with this piece of writing. Next up will be an article titled “Not all Money Weight the Same: Those came from altruistic Philanthropist(s) happen to weight Significantly More.”