2005 Essay Contest - 1st Place Essay - Ages 18 – 22

By Kimberly Gruber

Compassion is demonstrated to the greatest degree when sorrows of another are felt by an outsider to the point that it creates the urge to help. Such an example of a true form of compassion occurred during the attacks of September 11, 2001. Over 3,000 people were killed in the attacks that hit the U.S. Each time the event comes to mind, our souls are again moved by the atrocity of thousands of our fellow citizens being snatched mercilessly from their families and our midst. Americans definitely shared in each New Yorkers’ pain and therefore demonstrated their true compassion by reaching out to support the victims and their families with over $155 million in donations to the Twin Towers Fund (Guiliani 274).

These selfless contributions from Americans around the country were vital for helping to rebuild the city and victims’ families. America’s response exemplifies the constructive impact that compassion can have on catastrophic events. Yet with Americans’ main focus on our country alone, we overlook an even greater threat that is advanced on a daily basis. In ONE day the AIDS virus kills more than TWO times as many people than were killed in the attacks of September 11, 2001. The worldwide AIDS epidemic takes over 7,000 lives on a daily basis. The region of the world hit in the most ghastly way is Sub-Saharan Africa, where, in some areas, the infection rate is as high as 70% in the adult populace. At this present time, AIDS is wiping out adult populations and leaving Africa as a land of orphans.

Considering the astonishing number of people affected by the AIDS epidemic, why haven’t Americans demonstrated equal amounts of compassion and attention as to the 9/11 tragedy? The truth is that the AIDS epidemic is easy for many Americans to overlook and ignore, primarily because the epidemic is affecting outside countries in a more dramatic way than it does our own. Therefore we do not see the pain or the injustice of its effects. Secondly, there has not been a single day like 9/11 when Americans have halted and been forced to recognize the severity of the AIDS epidemic. So, despite the increasing number of deaths that leave countless children orphaned, it is easy for Americans to simply overlook this tragedy.

“Don’t go to Africa unless you want to come back a different person. Those little guys will get to you,” says my uncle, Earl Shirk, who directs a marketplace ministry called Horizon Initiative, which works with the Kenyan orphans. Earl demonstrates that once the reality of the epidemic is faced, true compassion follows because it is hard to ignore the magnitude of the orphans’ need. This was not only his experience, but also has been the experience of many other Americans, including a group of Rotary Club Members that came to visit the orphanages. These men and women are all prominent business owners and therefore lived quite comfortably in the United States. Their initial motivation for the visit was based mostly on their reputation for serving the less fortunate, coupled with a little bit of pity for the children, but not true compassion. In addition, the Rotary men and women were contributing funds to the orphanages, and they wanted to observe firsthand how their substantial monetary contribution was being used. A short time after their arrival, they were already irritably grumbling about the accommodations and schedule. They were mostly concerned about where they could find a cold beer and a cigar lounge. Touring the orphanage was of less importance on the agenda.

However, at the orphanage, the children were bubbling with excitement to meet the new visitors. As one final item of preparation, the organizer of the Rotary trip, Jim Pesce, sat the orphans down to let them know one last thing about the Rotary members. Nearly 80% of the entire population of Kenya is professing Christian, and within the orphanage itself most of the kids profess Christianity. Jim recognized that the children needed to be aware that the spiritual condition of their new visitors might be a little different from their own. After careful explanation of this, the children grew very silent, and one little boy’s voice was heard: “That means that they are going to hell…”

Despite their dismay, the children greeted the Rotary members like family as soon as they arrived. Each child grasped a hand of a member so that each member had two children, one attached to each hand. Throughout the tour the men were amazed how well the children behaved. The children were so excited to have visitors that they required nothing else. As they headed back to the hotel that evening, the men and women talked amongst themselves and finally asked, “Jim, what was wrong with the children during the tour? Some of them had tears running down their cheeks.” Jim chuckled and answered, “Well, the children really like you, and they were afraid that some of you are going to hell.”

There was no beer drinking or cigar smoking that evening. The “little guys” had gotten to the big business men and women. The children were so compassionately rich, despite the fact that they had no family and were materially poor. They valued the men and women’s company and did not expect material gifts. In the event that other Americans are able to digest the differences in values between our culture and others, they will understand that these AIDS victims do not expect America’s compassion – but they need it.

For the Rotary members, this confrontation with the AIDS epidemic made it nearly impossible to overlook the situation or decline to help the victims. The Rotary members’ original motivation to visit arose from pity – the smallest extent of compassion – but, by the time they left, the orphans had gotten to them. Compassion had grown from pity into an urge to help the children.

A true level of compassion is what drives Americans to action. This is the exact process of remedy that is needed to fight this tragic epidemic. To begin this fight, the problem first needs to be recognized as the epidemic that it is. Currently the African government and some worldwide publications continue to deny or downplay the severity of the AIDS epidemic. Although it is not realistic or possible for the majority of Americans to go see the harsh reality of the problem by going to Africa, its severity must be revealed to Americans in another fashion. We who have an awareness need to surround the news, publications and public places with information about the epidemic to the point where our fellow Americans are motivated to action instead of sinking further into the comforts of our country’s culture.

Next, we must fight this epidemic by acknowledging all the work that will be required. Dealing with the epidemic requires first that the orphans be rescued. This is step one of many. The future target of the epidemic is the orphans, so they need to be cared for immediately. Once their needs are met and their futures saved, then they themselves can help with the next steps by educating others.

Finally, we must persevere despite the immensity of the task. This epidemic does not exist only within the bounds of Africa. It exists worldwide. In fact, Asia currently has the fastest growing rate of the AIDS virus. Yet, with perseverance and by taking one day and one task at a time, lives will be saved one at a time.

“Doing more than is expected to make another’s life a little more bearable, without uttering a single complaint…means compassion,” quotes author Oscar Wilde. This is the level of compassion that Americans need to acquire and express towards AIDS victims. A sudden, tragic event is often given more compassion than the slow and steady evolution of a situation. Even though AIDS has and will continue to rob more human lives than the single event of 9/11, it is sometimes difficult to provoke compassion in our fellow Americans. Yet, each American has the ability to help in some way. It is a matter of creating within each American motivation to help. Just as Americans acknowledged the September 11, 2001, attacks as a severe threat and responded with compassion, it is time Americans take a stand against the growing AIDS epidemic by demonstrating compassion. Once we acknowledge this threat within the bounds of our own country, we can spread our support to the areas that need it most, outside the bounds of the United States, to the orphans of South Africa and the increasing number of victims in Asia.

 

2005 Essay Contest - 1st Place - 12 and Under

By Emerald Wong

When my mother shared a newspaper article with me about an orphan in Africa whose parents died of AIDS, I couldn’t take my eyes off the photo of the girl, who was about my age. The photo in the Boston Globe showed a young girl of 11 crying in front of a wall, her face twisted and distorted, with her head hung heavy on her shoulders as if she carried the weight of the world. My mom told me that this girl looked exactly like me when I cry. She was right. It was striking. Even though the girl was African with dark skin, and I am Asian with yellow skin, we did seem so similar. My heart sank. It was her face, the face of anguish. She was alone in the world, her family ravaged by AIDS. Her face held my attention hauntingly. Pain is something we all know when we see it. I couldn’t turn away.

I snatched the paper out of her hands and devoured the article voraciously. I couldn’t read fast enough, choking back the tears. Her mother had just died of AIDS. She and her two younger siblings slept in the same bed with their mother. They were a loving, close-knit family who had very little but each other. Her father had already died of AIDS.

I wanted to do something instantly to help her. I fantasized that maybe we could adopt her, since my family had adopted me, too. I fantasized that I could share my home and bedroom with her, and we could become sisters. However, we learned that her best friend’s family had offered her a place in their home. But how many others were just like her, yet not as fortunate?

CBS News reported on April 1, 2005, that “more than 80 million Africans may die from AIDS by 2025,” according to a report released by the United Nations. They added that “HIV infections could soar to 90 million – more than 10 percent of Africa’s population – if more isn’t done soon to fight the pandemic.” “UNAIDS estimates the number of AIDS orphans could grow from the current 11 million to 27 million by 2025 without greater action and funding.”

How can I help? The eyes of every citizen of the world must open so that they can see what I have seen. Everyone recognizes pain. This is the world’s problem, not just an African problem, and there must be a solution involving the whole world. Children can bring about positive change. We can be victims, but we can also be agents of change and give hope for a better future. We can talk to anyone who will listen, and we can raise funds by collecting pocket change, conducting sports and music performathons, and mobilizing adults to act now. We can be a formidable force because we have the most at stake. We can create the world in which we want to live. I believe if children and adults work together, with God’s help, no problem is insurmountable.

2005 Essay Contest - 1st Place - Ages 13-17

By Emily Addison

I walked slowly into the damp, dingy darkness of the building that epitomized South Africa’s pain. Instantly, I was overpowered by the stench of human waste and disease. Decaying, grimy walls loomed on every side, and, as I squinted in the dim lighting, Nakakele AIDS Orphanage was exposed to me in all its naked horror. This was the place that the abandoned, the dying, and the unloved were brought to fearfully face the torment of AIDS and all the shame it brought. I had come here to voluntarily work for part of the summer, not really knowing what to expect. I couldn’t possibly have imagined or prepared myself for the overwhelming sense of hopelessness that pierced my heart when I entered Nakakele.

The weary nurses, calloused and hardened to the suffering, and too busy to be bothered with a naïve white girl, let me wander where I wanted. I roamed into the children’s ward, where I found about fifty kids between ages two and twelve lying in barred cots that looked like prison cells. As I gazed into each child’s bitter, anxious face, my heart wept unstoppably. I found hatred and fear glaring back at me. Their young eyes asked the silent questions they were forced to live with…“Why did my parents leave me here to die with strangers who don’t even care? Why do I have to watch everyone around me die slowly as I wait for my own agonizing death?” I couldn’t help but wonder what love was in such a place of abhorrence and isolation.

A three-year-old little girl with a beautiful chubby face and a faded pink dress caught my eye. Without even thinking, I swept her up into my arms and embraced her as tightly as I possibly could. Gently, I kissed her soft cheek and smiled into her eyes as tears slid uncontrollably down my face. Compassion and love seemed to carry me across the filthy, cold floor as I danced with her in my arms and sang Frank Sinatra in a hoarse whisper. No matter how much my heart was breaking for these beautiful children, I couldn’t stop smiling, and soon it spread contagiously to the face of my dance partner. Instantaneously every broken piece of injustice and pain melted as her laughter became the melody upon which we dance. The previously dull eyes of the other children were now glued in anticipation and curiosity on the newcomer. Singing as loudly as I could, I danced wildly from cot to cot, doing whatever was necessary to squeeze a precious giggle from each child.

Some of the more mischievous young boys would make faces and then turn away, laughing in embarrassment. Others reached out to touch my “yellow hair” and squirmed for me to pick them up and hold them. Like a starving man reaches for food, they reached for love. The simplest game became an escape from their prison cots. The more we played, the more the unforgettable, death, was forgotten. Their hardened faces were softened with laughter as I taught them songs I sang in my church and poured out unrestrained love. Something deep inside me, so deep it was hard to notice at first, was changing. These children were teaching me a new kind of love – a love that was pure, simple, and selfless.

When I had first entered that room and walked from child to child, I had seen their wounds, their hatred, their sickness. Later, when I left Nakakele, and walked from beautiful face to beautiful face, I saw the vibrant personalities and strength of children I had come to love in the truest way. Their eyes had once been black holes of emptiness; now they held laughter, mischief, and love. The reek I had once found unbearable had become the perfume of joy. It had become the sweet fragrance of worship to God.

In that filthy room that bore the stench of death, something new had pierced through all the darkness and grime of fear. Love. Like inescapable sunshine it had lit up every face and transformed a moment of those lives. That summer I learned a lesson I will never forget. In the smiles of those children, I learned the simplicity of love; in the death of those children, I learned how to live. Their priceless joy in the effortless acts of love reminded me of a verse I had always taken for granted. Jesus loved the little children. I now know what it is to love the little children.

But those beautiful, innocent children, bodies broken by the disease they carry, are only a precious few that will represent in my heart forever the twenty-five million dead victims of AIDS and the forty million more infected. There are millions of dying children living in the shame and inescapable death of AIDS. Picture a child you know – silly, or maybe shy, bubbly and playful, and then over that bright, happy picture I ask you, for just a moment, to paint the black horror of AIDS, and imagine their life day by day being stolen in the most brutal way. That is what is happening across Africa as the priceless purity of children is stolen by pain, hatred, and death. How can we not love the little children? How can we turn away and ignore the ache in their eyes and the silent pleas of infants?