My Home

I used to be furious at the advertisement that represented Ethiopia as a grimy boy begging for food; on the summer of 2011, when my mother, my younger sister and I flew to Ethiopia to visit family, I understood its accuracy.

Although that unparalleled interdependence between the citizens was there, the times, the streets, and the country had changed. Most of what I saw contradicted what I had remembered. I do not think it was my unaccustomed eyes that created this exhausted city since even the sky proclaimed pollution. What got me the most, though, took place on our way back to Petaluma. I cannot forget what the nine women, who were flying to Arab to work as maids, had asked my mother and I as we prepared for the flight. It was in the airport,and they suddenly surrounded us, begging us to fill their forms. They came from all over Ethiopia, some the capital others the rural, and they were all illiterate; I was astounded.

When my family won the diversity visa six years ago, our move to the United States was inevitable. Who would possibly disregard such an opportunity to live in the land of opportunities? America soon proved itself and I began to be absorbed in this list of ambitions. Being in the health career pathway at school has influenced my dreams, but most of all my proximity with the everyday problems in Ethiopia has birthed a desire to stretch within and beyond America.

My life here is blessed, and I am gratified; consequently, I aspire to eradicate that saying “died so young” my aunt used to describe the Arab migrant who killed herself, or even my mother used to elaborate on the American boy who was bullied to death.

I aspire to cultivate a time where nations are unselfish willing to teach their citizens basic reading skills. I aspire to combine America’s high standard of living with Ethiopia’s interconnectedness and share it out generously, within and beyond boundaries. I aspire to pursue the field of medicine, and maybe on the way, clean the dirt off that grimy boy.