I want to build schools, teach, give aid, supply medical knowledge, build safe places for the oppressed, form governments that can re-build war-torn countries.
I want to do all this. And I will.
I want to build, but I cannot lift. My arms are not strong from fighting, but weak from resting on laurels.
I want to teach, but I can’t do Maths, because I didn’t learn it, because I didn’t have to.
I want to give aid, but I can’t produce the food needed by people suffering from malnutrition.
I want to give medicine, and teach doctors, but I will never be a doctor.
I want to help form safe governments, but my political fervor is too excitable for political life in this country.
So how will I do all of this?
I will write.
I will report on the good of others, and the terror they replace.
When a school is built, I will publish the news, so others can be persuaded to build more.
When teachers are forced to strike over working conditions that are detrimental to their students, I will take their side, and publish their world, so others will stand in solidarity too.
When aid organisations need help to transport their food, to administer their supplies, I will report on their hard work, and give others hope that their work is worthwhile.
When doctors and nurses are needed, but instead are not allowed to work, due to bureaucracy, idealism, or war, I will tell the story of the people who need them, and tell of the honesty behind the surgeon’s mask.
And when revolutions turn to rebuilding, I will tell the story of their fight for their rights, and their efforts for truth and a brighter future for all.
Some call me an optimist. I think they’re right. I believe in people.
And I believe that everyone’s story should be told.
And I vow to tell the stories, of the dispossessed, of the oppressed, of the men and women who can fight, build, teach, supply, heal and govern.
Because without journalism, we are all confined to what we think, and not what is real.
P.A
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