Comfy Little Worlds

I have a routine.

Everyday I wake up, I go lectures – most of the time – and in between all the chaos I go to my meals. Here’s the problem, each day I do exactly the same thing with exactly the same people standing across from me… but I don’t know them, I don’t know their lives, I don’t know what they think about before they go to sleep every night, I don’t know that they have children who’ll never even dream of seeing the inside of a lecture room. I just don’t know.

The truth is, it’s a classic case of self absorption, we all do. We never take the time to stop, to step out of our little worlds and to recognise them. So why? Why do I do it? I’m not entirely sure…

Okay well that’s a lie.

I do it because it easier to ignore my neighbours than it is to realise that my comfy little world really isn’t the centre of the universe, who’d have thought! It’s no surprise that, like a lot of students, if I don’t have to know them? I won’t.

That’s why I chose to be different and to try something that to a lot of people really isn’t that amazing. I chose to open my eyes – metaphorically speaking.

I was given the opportunity to challenge myself and to do something I hadn’t done before. Although skydiving or a Santa Monica cruise was appealing, I decided to acknowledge certain people who are really overlooked by our community, often just – accessories to Default, Hindu Halal or Vegetarian.

I got to know the kitchen staff… outside the bondage of bags of McCain’s and my subsequent hours.

You see Georgina used to scare me. Every time she rather passionately slapped smash onto dubiously hygienic plates, yes, I was scared– but then I got to know her. The smile I received when I took the time to ask about her day was indescribable. The following weeks I realised that just a few commonplaces really did mean the world to someone, brightening their day just that little bit more.

Everyone wants to be seen, to be recognised and to feel like there is a reason that they’re standing in front of you doing a job that they probably can’t stand or isn’t worth the menial pay they’re getting. Whether it’s for themselves or their families or to pay medical bills, it is up to you to make it worth it because essentially without them, eight o’clock munchies would really be a whole lot worse.

So try it. Make it worth it for someone, a kitchen lady or someone in the streets; let them know that they’re not alone in their little world and that they’re appreciated. It’s up to you; I know for myself I’ve opened my eyes.

So why journalism? Good question...

By Natalia Carvalho

We all hope to achieve something in our lives, to do great things, to be a success. I know I do, that’s why I’m here as a student at Rhodes University. You see journalism is so much more than just a career; it’s a challenge and opportunity to push the boundaries to the point where you should ask yourself, how far are you willing to go? That’s something I look forward to learning and sharing with my readers because I believe the best journalists are a product of shared experiences and knowledge. It takes us beyond the boundaries of a degree where we don’t just find a story; we temporarily become an intrinsic part of someone’s life. Finally I believe before we are journalists we are human and as tempted as we might be, as our journalistic senses tingle, for a story, our humanity dictates the kind of writer we will become. As an aspiring journalist and a young woman I’ve learnt compassion. To be fortunate enough to glance into someone else’s life, even for a moment, has taught me that journalism and our world isn’t just black and white but a colourful array of greys.

So why do I want to be a journalist? I don’t know. In fact there are days when I look at my life, myself and doubt the most influential decision I will ever make. Then there are those days, the ones which inspire, when being a journalist feels like the one thing that would make sense. No on those days, it’s the only reason that existing in a world so imperfect with such suffering is actually worth it. If I’m honest with myself, I didn’t want this in the beginning but as this question loomed closer, I realise why, just why I would want to plunge myself into a life scouring for stories.

September 12 I found myself in a hospital, a photographer and report along side me; that was one of those day were it suddenly all made sense. I remember watching the expression on a little girls face change as we handed her gifts and the photographer snapped shot of her little hands eagerly tearing away the wrapping. She was chronically ill. The next day as she smiled at me from the between the pages of a local newspaper I knew why I wanted this. That moment of happiness we’d captured and eternalised made everything worth it and I realised writing is a lot bigger than we think. It’s about those rare moments when you read your name alongside something profound that you can feel privileged to have been a part of.

That’s why I want I write.