Revision

For my revision, I chose to revise my narrative essay. I thought that this essay was strong, but I think that I could take it to another level. I wrote this in September, so I was writing in more of an eighth-grade style, but now I can write more like a ninth grader and a beginning sophomore. I chose to revise three main categories of writing in this essay. These traits that I worked to improve included voice, word choice, and ideas. Through voice, I worked towards increasing vivid details where ever necessary or possible. This helped my essay by making the reader be completely involved with the story and making them feel as if they were in the moment. Through word choice, I worked towards using better vocabulary to have an exciting essay rather than one with simple words. I changed up many words so that it would be more lively and even wiser than the original. I also developed new words for any words or ideas that were becoming repetitive. I think that this really helped to make the new and improved essay more personal and fun than it was before. I also fixed any minor mistakes as I read through my previous essay, especially contractions. Through ideas, I worked to expand. My ideas were pretty well written when I looked back at this essay, but they needed to be explained more. I tried to elaborate as much as possible in this revision so that it would be an even better story with nothing left for the mind to question.

I am Fortunate, I Should Be More Thankful

            Everyone knows the usual problems. People in Africa do not have water. Kids in Africa do not have food. This is usually true, and this needs to be solved, but do people know what else is happening? The kids have to walk miles and miles on dirt roads to school every morning if they are lucky enough to go to school. The women depend on tourists to come and buy their beaded jewelry, and for only a dollar or two per piece. The men work all day long in the blazing heat, herding their large group of cattle and goats to new fields, with only some grass. The families live all together in one tiny hut. They have almost nothing, but each other.

            Late afternoon, my family and I pull up in a worn out jeep to what looks like a dirt field encircled by gates made of broken sticks and wood. The smell of hot dirt grasps my nose. I look out of the back seat window and see teeny houses made of mud walls and straw roofs. I have never seen anything like this. It looks almost identical to the pictures from National Geographic. I look out of the other window of the car and see herds of goats and cows being led by only one man to their village. Before I even have a chance to sit back down in the seat, local kids were running to our car in amazement. They are Masai people of Tanzania.

            I step out of the car to find faces of curiosity and excitement. These Masai people do not get to see Americans much at all. Maybe they will encounter foreigners at a town shop a few miles away, but from what I witnessed, there was not an American in sight. So, the moment the women and kids see my long, golden-brown hair, their eyes widen, and immediately they go to touch it. My green half-zip jacket and jeans were candy for their hopeful eyes. The older kids, some my age, grab my hands and lead me into their village. I was not expecting this kind of attention, but I could not blame them for wanting to see what others have and don't have. After all, my family and I were here for the same thing. We wanted our minds to finally have a grasp on a completely different lifestyle. Most people will visit a tourist location and think that they have experienced a new culture. This is accurate that they have viewed a new way of life, but have they really put themselves into the home life of the natives?

            My joy of a new adventure into this quaint village was soon taken from me as I walked into their enclosed, wooden gate and saw what they called home. All of their ground was beaten down by sandy dirt, and most of them did not have shoes to protect their bare feet. Dirty mutts were curled into balls in the middle of no man’s land wanting to be loved. I looked behind me and saw a four-year-old boy herding goats with a short branch fallen from a tree nearby. As I was taking all of this in, some of the kids had taken my GoPro out of my pocket. All of them crowded around this tiny, intricate device wondering what it does. In our day to day life, a GoPro might be mentioned, but it would not surprise anyone. The thought of a travel-size camera is easily perceived by our minds, but for these people, it was a whole new invention. I took the GoPro out of their hands and showed them how we could take pictures of ourselves. All of the kids and even the adults were so overwhelmingly ecstatic to see themselves in the pictures. The kids would check what they were wearing, which was not anything more than patterned cloth, and find themselves in the photograph. I assumed that they did not have a daily way to remember their appearances like a mirror would provide. A new feeling of bliss spread through the dusty atmosphere of their outdoors. The children’s faces easily showed how they could not believe that they were now experiencing this type of reality. The wide smiles on their faces were enough to make me want to cry.

            My brother was showing some of the boys his football that he brought on the other side of me. They immediately wanted to play with, or even just hold his football. Footballs are so common where I live that it wouldn’t be extraordinary to see someone playing with one in your neighborhood or to even watch a college football game on the weekend.  To my right, the women could not stop feeling my mom’s hair and looking at her makeup. This type of beauty was fresh to their eyes as it differed so much from their traditional cosmetics.  I looked forward to find that my dad was being shown the simple spears that kill lions. Something that I personally couldn’t resist seeing since we don’t usually have to fend for our lives against giant predators daily.

            As I walked around their miniature, mud houses, I immediately started to feel guilty about what I possess. I usually do not ask for a lot of things out of the blue, but when I do, it is useless junk that I usually do not need. These Masai people ask for simple things like pencils, but they do not get them. I overheard a conversation between my dad and a member of this society thanking my dad for donating money for the children’s pencils at school. At this moment, I realized that my dad only gave a small amount of money towards giving school supplies and he was greatly appreciated in this community. I also recalled that people at my school break pencils for fun. I remember thinking in that instance that something so meager could make a world of a difference depending on who will appreciate it. We should appreciate these small things as much as the big things. Our parents work hard to provide for us and to buy us presents or splurge occasionally. The Masai parents spend their entire lives’ work to keep their kids alive. I never question if my family will have a meal on our table or water in our cups. This is a very contrasted situation for the Masai people. It really opened my eyes to see what these people had and what they did not have. I should be tremendously more thankful. I am incredibly fortunate.