Mariya Putwa, Grade 12
UWCEA (Arusha)
Some days I feel stagnant, school ends up monotonous as I attempt to speed through my classes. I imagine myself at a barricade where everyone zooms past me, going further and moving upwards. The constant need to prove myself worthy becomes exhausting as my social battery runs out. Sometimes I lay in my cold bed, legs icy as I shiver under the chilly dawn hours in Arusha, and wonder why I’m here- struggling to stay afloat.
Anxious thoughts begin to seep into my head, but home seems closer as I gaze at my roommate’s warm smile.
I focus on the golden braids that smoothly intertwine with her naturally curly hair as she begins to rant about her History IA, her eyes crinkle as she loses herself in her rambling, I faintly hear her converse tapping on the dusty red floor of our room before I can even see them. I can’t help but laugh at her awkward situation as she justifies why she could not meet deadlines. My worries slowly fade away as stifled giggles echo through our room, bright yellow streams through the windows, our dainty curtains softly floating in the air as the wind gently blows in.
I remind myself of the beautiful pink sunsets that enveloped me as I struggled to keep my socks clean on the dusty path back to the boarding house. Complaints filling the cool air about how there was no established path but nevertheless stomping through the fine sand. No matter how big the dust cloud, I remember always seeing warm rays of sunshine speckle through the tiny particles, creating golden shapes onto the annoyed faces of my friends. A harsh contrast to the bright smiles they carried as we hungrily walked to the dinner buffet, the scent of barbeque chicken lingering in the air.
I try and feel the emotions I felt when I brewed multiple cups of coffee at 11 pm, quickly walking back to the warm embrace of my room, smiling as I threw in an extra teaspoon of bitter powder into a random cup; waiting for her to comment, as usual, of how the coffee tasted better when made by me. We stay up working in comfortable silence, our heads overwhelmed but finding ease in each other’s companies. I find myself staring at their faces as I think about how we ended up together, how this minuscule moment in my life would end up shaping me in the future. How a group of friends had created a warm bubble of happiness in a perverted world, outside this bubble where existentialism, wars, and fear threatened to consume me.
I think about all the moments I would laugh till I would cry, or cry till I would laugh. The failed tests, skipping across the field, excessive picture taking, nonsensical fights, and dancing at odd hours. I think about all the people that have contributed to my memories, friends I’ve lost, and friends I’ve made. People with lives, strenuous pasts, and potential-filled futures that have somehow intertwined with mine in the most beautiful way. Sometimes I think about where I’d be if not here, if I’d be as open-minded or tolerant, if I’d be happier or under pressure, but I can’t come up with an answer.
UWC was meant to be; the experiences I’ve had, good or bad, are irreplaceable.
UWC had given me something special, a chance to bloom under the loving eyes of friends that had turned into family, a chance to learn from mistakes, and nourish myself with knowledge and empathy. But most importantly, a chance to be me.
Anxious thoughts begin to seep into my head, but home seems closer as I gaze at my roommate’s warm smile.
I focus on the golden braids that smoothly intertwine with her naturally curly hair as she begins to rant about her History IA, her eyes crinkle as she loses herself in her rambling, I faintly hear her converse tapping on the dusty red floor of our room before I can even see them. I can’t help but laugh at her awkward situation as she justifies why she could not meet deadlines. My worries slowly fade away as stifled giggles echo through our room, bright yellow streams through the windows, our dainty curtains softly floating in the air as the wind gently blows in.
I remind myself of the beautiful pink sunsets that enveloped me as I struggled to keep my socks clean on the dusty path back to the boarding house. Complaints filling the cool air about how there was no established path but nevertheless stomping through the fine sand. No matter how big the dust cloud, I remember always seeing warm rays of sunshine speckle through the tiny particles, creating golden shapes onto the annoyed faces of my friends. A harsh contrast to the bright smiles they carried as we hungrily walked to the dinner buffet, the scent of barbeque chicken lingering in the air.
I try and feel the emotions I felt when I brewed multiple cups of coffee at 11 pm, quickly walking back to the warm embrace of my room, smiling as I threw in an extra teaspoon of bitter powder into a random cup; waiting for her to comment, as usual, of how the coffee tasted better when made by me. We stay up working in comfortable silence, our heads overwhelmed but finding ease in each other’s companies. I find myself staring at their faces as I think about how we ended up together, how this minuscule moment in my life would end up shaping me in the future. How a group of friends had created a warm bubble of happiness in a perverted world, outside this bubble where existentialism, wars, and fear threatened to consume me.
I think about all the moments I would laugh till I would cry, or cry till I would laugh. The failed tests, skipping across the field, excessive picture taking, nonsensical fights, and dancing at odd hours. I think about all the people that have contributed to my memories, friends I’ve lost, and friends I’ve made. People with lives, strenuous pasts, and potential-filled futures that have somehow intertwined with mine in the most beautiful way. Sometimes I think about where I’d be if not here, if I’d be as open-minded or tolerant, if I’d be happier or under pressure, but I can’t come up with an answer.
UWC was meant to be; the experiences I’ve had, good or bad, are irreplaceable.
UWC had given me something special, a chance to bloom under the loving eyes of friends that had turned into family, a chance to learn from mistakes, and nourish myself with knowledge and empathy. But most importantly, a chance to be me.
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