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countless 'ruined' women - Macaulay Essay


farhanaxp 1 / 1  
Nov 28, 2009   #1
the prompt is talk about a local national or international concern and its impact on you

moments before the play, i was excited, fidgety, and anxious. i played around with my hair, wiggled my fingers, and shifted my weight around. i looked with my bulging eyes at the stage in front of me. it had long, thin, papered tress stacked next to each other. the floors were so black and so clean that when i first stepped into the dimly lit auditorium, i thought the stage was a bottomless pit with dry trees growing out of it. i turned to my friend to see her reaction; she was busy sending a text.

my own ignorance came in between me and what was happening in the Congo. a week before the play a man came to our class to provide us with some background information. in those five days, i learned about the harsh conditions that plagues the people in Africa. within that week i grew more and more interested. women are being raped with bayonets. considered ruined by their tribes, they're left stranded to die. any female would share hatred toward acts like these, and i was no exception.

after the announcer came on, the lights went off. i was always used to the recorded sequenced images of a movie, but seeing the actors perform live, made it more memorable. their voices fluctuated and spread throughout the room. everything felt so real, more so than HD. T.V.'s and IMAX theaters. it all felt genuine, from the vibrant, three dimensional actors to the beads of sweat dripping off the orange flavored soda drinks. when the fake thunder bellowed through the hidden speakers, i felt it; when afternoons turned into night i heard the crickets chirping and the mosquitoes buzzing.

during the intermission, i felt lightheaded. the play was so intense i must have been holding my breath the whole time. i didn't want to miss a single word. as everyone got up to take bathroom breaks i sat and looking at the people passing by. did they feel the same way i did? where they breathing as much as much as i was? did the word of the actors cut them as they as they were cutting me? the thought ran through my head, unanswered.

when i got home i sat down on my worn out chair and read articles on hospitals dedicated to helping the women. i watched documentaries and saw interviews with the producers of the play. each new piece of information brought me closer to my true goal. i wanted to give and to help people in distress. maybe one day i could join the peace corps. one day I'd be able to visit the Congo and experience the atmosphere and share the stories of countless 'ruined' women.


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