Undergraduate / In Zimbabwe's society's eyes, I became an adult sixteen months ago COMMONAPP essay [3]

Discuss an accomplishment or event, formal or informal that marked your transition from childhood to adulthood within your culture, community, or family.

The defining moment when you leave behind your childish fantasies and morph into a fully-fledged adult is not always earmarked by happiness and celebrations. That split second which changes your whole life does not always occur on cue when society most expects it.

In Zimbabwe's society's eyes, I became an adult sixteen months ago. When the clock struck midnight on June 25, 2012, I could legally vote and drink, and if I had committed a crime, I would have been tried and sentenced as an adult. Despite my new legal status however, I had not really come of age. I was still living under my parents' roof, and they were still sacrificing their own desires to buy me make-up, clothes, and the occasional pair of shoes I found irresistible. I had no real responsibility; I was carefree and could indulge in my selfish, youthful desires. I was still a child at heart, putting myself and my needs before those of others.

But nine months and three days later, my world was turned upside down when my dad suffered a stroke. I remember, almost to the second, when I transformed from child to adult. In an instant, this strong, vital man-my protector, my rock, my confidante, my hero-was transformed into a weak and sickly shadow of himself. The entire right side of his body was paralyzed. He could not write; he could not work; he could not even speak.

I had always assumed that my entry into adulthood would be marked by celebration-a going away party as I left for university, an enormous braii (a type of barbeque common in Southern Africa), or a large family gathering-as is customary in Zimbabwe. Instead, mine was defined by the terror of watching my father, who has been the glue holding together my world, lying helpless in bed. As I realized how dire the situation was, scores of unexpressed childish dreams and desires suddenly evaporated, and although I had never before considered them to be selfish, they certainly seemed so in retrospect.

Unlike the wealthy, successful white families remaining in Zimbabwe, mine is a modest family. Ours is not a spacious home with enormous lawns and meticulously maintained gardens; we live on the outskirts of town in a run-down house built by my grandfather, shortly after he arrived here seventy years ago in search of a new life of peace and prosperity. That dream turned out to be nothing more than a mirage. Instead of the sloping, soft, emerald lawns and sparkling swimming pools of his fantasy, we wound up with a back garden of bush and dirt, snakes and scorpions.

For the past twenty-eight years, my father has worked as a store clerk, without any pension or benefits. So I have long understood that my parents' future-their comfort and security in their old age-would be in my hands. Nevertheless, I never anticipated that that responsibility would start crashing down on me before my nineteenth birthday.

However, much to my surprise, the arrival of adulthood felt joyous, but not because of extravagant parties or gaining the right to vote (a meaningless pursuit in Zimbabwe in any event). It was the joy of newfound responsibility for those I love most. I did not mourn the loss of my childish freedoms. Instead, I felt a new focus, a need to become the trustworthy "grown-up" daughter who would make my father proud. That single moment in the hospital, and the repercussions which followed it, defined my journey into adulthood. It set the foundation for who I am and who I am yet to become. At this new and exciting juncture in my life, I know that I am ready and able to assume the mantle of adulthood and to accept the accompanying responsibilities as they have been laid out for me. I am ready to make my mark in this world.