Personal Narrative: Sierra Leone

I was born in Colombia, South America and lived there until I turned seven. Before I moved to the states, I attended a public school and was on the competitive swim team for my school. I earned many awards the year and a half I swam for my school. I took pride in competing with girls three to four years older than me. I also remember how different things were there than they are here in the states. I lived in the city, Ibague, a city I remember as being pretty yet dangerous. The streets were not to roam when it got dark and you always had to watch your surroundings when you were in public. In Colombia, robbery is a major crime that goes on due to not enough jobs available for people. My parents got a divorced when I turned one. My older sister,

Returning from Haiti came with mixed emotions. I was thankful that I was able to go and experience God, but I felt empty on the inside. People had told me for years that serving others changes your life, but I did not feel that way. How could I live so extravagantly while there were people living without basic needs right across the ocean? How could I live in an enormous house while people lived in rusted shacks almost about to collapse? How could I throw out leftover food while others starved? I traveled to Haiti with ideas to fix the Haitians broken lives, but I as worked I felt useless and believed that I failed as a Christian. While I could not change the material poverty that the Haitians endured, I was able to build relationships with Haitian teens and show them love. By love, I mean God’s definition which is based on moral character that comes from Him and His teachings.

hieving one of my most important goals which was to learn proper English and write better. In doing so I would be able to further my education after completing high school. I began participating in and played soccer for Woonsocket High School boy soccer team for 4 years.

There was not much to do as I grew up in Haiti. I would sit outside for hours until the sun would set, the darkness consuming the little light that once remained.  I didn’t know anything besides my house; my mom believed that our safety simply lay inside the house and anything outside was dangerous. Growing up, I didn’t have my father around because he came to the United States in order to provide for his family back home. At the age of seven both my immigration papers and my sister's were finalized, and we were able to finally be with our father. Unfortunately, our mother was not able to come with us. When we got to the airport, I hugged my mother and said goodbye.

Growing up in African there are days I can’t find anything to eat. I just ate whatever I can find most of the time I ate clay, dirt and paint. I remember ending up in the hospitals and the doctors not knowing what was wrong with me. Then I came to United State, even though I had enough to eat, my body kept craving for non food substance. I remember getting sick,going to the hospital. They told me I had pica disorder. I learned to things from this topic. First I should watch out what I put into my body because it can cause damages to my body. Secondly pica is mental disorder and it can be cured.

It has been six years since I left Haiti at the age of four. For me it’s been a lifetime at this point. So long that I don’t remember any of the basic rituals of my family. Jet lag knocked me out so badly the night before, I don’t remember what I did after getting off the plane. Bleary eyed and confused I don’t understand why I’m being woken up. The desire to return to sleep so strong I nearly said a curse word. But in that moment a breeze blew in a mouth-watering aroma I didn’t want nor could ignore. My mouth was open to complain but my tongue sampled the scent and I was rendered speechless. I became so enveloped in the aroma that I barely noticed the coolness of the concrete floor nor the fact that I had even gotten up and walked to the kitchen table. My focus turned to the source of my tantalization. A cup that grandma placed on the table for me. It was just a simple cup of coffee with two sticks of cinnamon in it. The fragrant cup was match by an alluring flavor. It felt like a warm hug with a kiss from

Growing up in the Deep South in Alabama, I am considered a true country boy. My mother and biological father were both born and raised in Alabama. They married very young, however their marriage did not last. Subsequently, my mother met and married a soldier who was stationed at Fort Benning in Columbus, GA. Upon marriage, were quickly stationed at a base in Germany. Although I was born in the states, I am very grateful that I was able to experience life outside of the United States. Aside from living abroad, I got to travel abroad extensively. Once the tour was up overseas, we returned to the U. S. and another cultural dimension was added to my life. My two step-brothers came to reside with us after we returned to the United states. They were half African American and half Vietnamese. In an attempt to respect their cultural differences, we began to eat a lot of

Just a week ago I was in the main office along with a group of friends waiting for the arrival of Mr. Medina, who we were told was currently in a meeting by the snobby blonde lady in the main office. As we waited for our assistant principal to arrive, a Domino’s pizza deliver guy came through the doors with stacks of pizza piled high ,the strong greasy smell grabbed the attention of our noses we all starred at the boxes at he placed it on the counter . As the pizza disappeared one by one time flew by at that point we realized lunch was almost over. We were all fed up and hungry. At this point we had the urge to leave realizing that there wasn’t any pizza left, but we knew that this matter was urgent. Finally, Mr. Medina arrived we approached

I had been flying for only a few hours, and I couldn't wait to step off the plane, grab a Starbucks, and start a great adventure in Haiti. When I caught my first glimpse of this country I quickly realized that I was in for a rude-awakening. I had gone to Haiti hoping that somehow I could "change" the world, starting with this small country, but the exact opposite happened. Haiti changed me. What I saw in the week to come was nothing less than heart breaking. I saw an oppressed people and a country in bondage to a corrupt government, yet a glimmer of hope shone. I began to realize that these people were not enslaved to their unfortunate circumstances but rather took on each task at hand without complaint. Although this country has very little,

Tenacious. In 1989 Liberia, West Africa was faced with the economic stress of a civil war. In 1989, my parents were faced with leaving three children in that war. My mother had recently given birth to her fourth child in America, and returned to Liberia. When the war broke out the US Embassy would only let her bring my sister, the American citizen, back to the states. My parents were fearful, but determined. They refused to give up on their children. They made sure each one was protected by other family members. All three of them survived the war.

In our lives, we have experiences that can change the way we look at things. In the past 20 years my mom had been an independent woman. Finding her way to come to America with just me and also finding a job. Working really hard for me to have a better education and providing for me and also herself. Traveling to Belgium and Sierra Leone was a good experience, and I’m glad my mom took me. Learn who I am as a person and what I want to do in my life. This inspiring me a lot because my mom was able to do things on her own with not much too even care for herself and also never giving up. Learn if you put your mind to it, it will surely happen. Was tough for my mom to bring us both to American. Form Sierra Leone, Belgium, London and coming back to Belgium and finally ending up in

Throughout high school, and some college I have experienced the some of the major things to deal with in life. In high school I was only kind of told about some of the challenges that awaited, but also was given some right there to deal with on my own. I started high school trying to be the best that I could be. Doing that caused lots of struggling to happen. 4 honors classes with homework in each class and trying to play games all night didn’t cut the study plan, causing a lot of stress. The solution? For me, it was another class in school that I just randomly wound getting placed in, called Theatre. There were so many other problems that I faced when I was in theatre that didn’t get cleared up right away, but it did teach me very valuable

Growing up as a kid, my life almost completely revolved around school. I believed good grades would bring me success, and success is the center of life. My family’s Buddhism background taught me to hold a high standard of moral behavior and hope to build merit for eternity. Soon when I started living in the U.S., I realized how needy and weak I really am. Suddenly, the unfamiliar environment restricted me from exploring anything. I couldn't communicate the same way that I did, and I had to depend on someone for everything. My limitation brought out the fact that I can't do everything through my own strength. I met Jesus through a counselor at summer camp before starting college. My counselor showed me from the Bible that He died on the cross for my failures, and rose again after three days. He is able and wants to help me to regain my relationship with my Heavenly Father.

Being in high school is scary. Walking down the halls seeing the upperclassmen stare and whisper, and hiding from teachers because you want to avoid an hour long lecture. Especially a small school can disrupt your nerves extremely easily. Everyone knows who you are, word spreads fast as wildfire. This experience can be rough on someone and their teenage self esteem. For me, going through the halls, and to class day after day is very demeaning and repetitive. Seeing people stare at me walking to my locker. Overhearing people whisper behind you, just quiet enough, you can’t bring out any words. It makes you wonder who they are talking about. You can’t help but think they 're talking about you. Don’t even get me started about teachers. For me, the thought of making a teacher mad at you or disappointed in you is devastating. I get this feeling of impending doom forming under my feet. Having these feelings leads me to have a really difficult time in high school. I almost gave up, but I realized that I must finish what I start.

This semester has been unlike anything I have ever experienced. There’s no way that I can truly be happy with my education, and its a constant struggle to determine what is best for me. I feel like I am always trying to figure out what’s best for anyone but me, and frankly that is no longer going to work. I can not continue having an ache in my chest because of my stress, and crying during a test because of my anxiety. I am no longer doing the things I do and taking the classes I take to impress my parents, because at the end of the day they don’t seem to care. I am no longer going to push myself so hard to impress my peers, because at the end of the day they don’t seem to care either. I am not focused on other people’s success, and I am now shifting gears to have a spotlight on my own.