uMwizerwa wa Ngoboka

Fashion therapy. I had just had an interview to be part of the student prefectural body, and was not “the chosen one.” That was sad, but I didn't care much about the position. What really broke me into pieces was that I jeopardized the only chance I had to talk to my little sister who was in another boarding school miles away. The tears blinded me as I ran to the dorms, and I cried my heart out. After giving an outlet to the rawness inside, I had to put on a mask, and that was fashion. I took a long cold shower to wash away the brokenness, and I was left more of  an empty shell. I put on my short sky blue dress that showed way too much cleavage,adorned the dark red lipstick, and contoured my bloodshot eyes with pitch black eyeliner. That evening, everyone complimented my outfit, and no one saw that I was sad, broken, and empty. Multiple times, the way I dress up reflect how I feel. When I'm happy I put on nice clothes but I don't do much of an effort. When I'm...

The comfort zone. I can't pass a day without seeing a quote or meme or picture about getting out of the comfort zone. They say that all the magical things happen out of your comfort zone, that you'll only start living once you go out of that zone. However I believe that if it was that bad, or without life or magic why would it be a “ comfort” zone? If getting out of it means compromising your comfort why would it be so celebrated? I love my comfort, and staying in my room entertaining myself is my favorite pastime. However, once in a while I make the effort, to go out of my room and see the world and people. In the past few months, I have taken various steps to try out new things, namely getting out of the so called “comfort zone”. On my second day in college, I decided to go to an international student meet up. I didn't know where we were supposed to meet from, or any of the people we were meeting with. It turned out to be one of the best evening during orient...

Tuesday, the second day of the week that passes unnoticed. It is not Monday, the universally hated day; because it is the first day of work. It also isn’t the weekend- the golden duo- that symbioses fun and resting. I am like Tuesday, the second born in my family. I am not Imfura, the first born, that also means noble. I also failed to be the last born, Bucura, that also roughly means the one who eats everything. I am in limbo, that state when you don’t actually have a defined individual role but fit into the bigger picture. Just like a week can’t exist without Tuesday, I guess my family can’t properly function without me in the picture. The only reason why I always looked forward to Tuesdays in high school was the food. Our menu was exquisite then, and my mouth would water at the sight of the food. I find joy in food, every time I get a chance to eat, my moods lighten up. I tend to have a smile plastered on my face whenever I eat. In the morning, we had doughnuts, our favorite and b...

`My first MIT rejection. One thing I have learned since my admission to MIT is that there are tons of things to apply to. I realized my MIT application for admission was one just the main door opening up to a multitude of other doors. Once I got in, I had to apply for the residence hall lottery, advising seminars, pre-orientation programs and many more. Most, if not all, of the application I did them last minute- apparently I am the queen of procrastination. Most of my MIT ventures had been successful so far. I got into my first choice pre-orientation program- Discover Mechanical Engineering. I had started the application the day it was due, and had to write five essays. At first I was not planning to apply, but was indirectly influenced by a friend. DME was her first choice too, but she didn’t get it. I fully realized how much of a privilege it was when I talked to upperclassmen- course two majors- who had been rejected from the program. The freshman evaluation essay which was l...

On a sunny Saturday afternoon, we set out to carry out the first stage of the community service challenge. By We, I mean all the participants of the critical thinking for peace camp. We were divided into groups of six or seven, and each group was given a family to visit. The families were identified by the social affairs office of the cell. I was in group eight with six other mentees. We left the village before four P.M, and headed to the village. My team and I were to visit an elderly woman called NYIRAKAMANA Stephanie. The lady had no child and lived alone. Stephanie’s home is quite a distance from the main road, a small mud covered house with a compound, a makeshift kitchen, and a small land. The chief of the agglomeration led the way, occasionally saying hello to acquaintances. As we neared her home, we started having suspicions- she didn’t seem to be home. Our doubts were confirmed when we found her door closed with a padlock. We were almost to tears as we moved back to the road...

It is 9:xx p.m, and I am sited all alone in the Athena Cluster ( Computer Lab) trying to pass -waste- time. This isn't the first time I find myself all alone. Despite the technology that enables us to communicate with people miles away in a blink of an eye, I can't find anyone to talk to. When I say talk, I mean deep conversations. It is three a.m in Kigali, home. My family and friends back home are fast sleep. I am thousands of miles away from them, and I can't reach them at this time. However, most of my friends are here, in college. Despite that I can't find anyone to talk to heart-to-heart. One, they are really busy trying to figure out what to do with all this freedom. Maybe, they're getting ready to go to late night parties they were never allowed to go to back home. The most docile ones are getting ready for classes tomorrow, doing homework, or research, or whatever university students do to get ready for lectures. Two, you can't just tell someone y...

Dear Gashora Girls Academy class of 2017, As I write this, I am in the MIT orientation. Last year at this exact time I was at home, sick. Less than a week earlier, I had a mental breakdown. The next day I was given permission to go home, and this marked the first of many trips I took home that term. I might have had a slightly different experience in the last term, but I believe I can give you some words of wisdom. Senior six (grade 12) was a frightening year for me. I was not a proactive person, and I liked​ to keep things to myself. Selling myself to a college seemed so hard for me. I had to talk to Mr John, our University counselor, do research, standardized tests, and all those things. I didn't know where to start. I was simply confused, so I stopped everything. I started the year with a 31 score in ACT practice, however, it went downhill from there. When I'm overwhelmed with multiple thing to do, I tend to freeze and not do anything at all. So I stopped ACT pract...