5:00 PM, October 22, 2022. This information illuminates the screen of my phone as I rush into the backseat of my car. The event is in San Francisco, almost an hour away from my house, so it is necessary to leave at once in order to arrive on time. My mother, father, and I storm into the large room as the clock strikes 6:00 PM. The room covers two stories, which are decorated with colorful banners commemorating the event, and the balcony of the second story offers a vantage point to the stage. The lower story is dotted with tens of round tables with hand-made centerpieces, each assigned to a family. Our lateness garners looks from the members of the audience who have been seated for many hours. With a flourish, the host declares, “Please welcome our final speaker for today to the stage!” 

A lean young man of dark complexion with a slight mustache and defined goatee rises from his seat in response to the prompt, advancing toward the stage in a dignified fashion. Upon first glance, his appearance does not appear particularly striking. His short dreadlocks, the tip of each strand decorated with a row of white beads, oscillate with each step; the silence of the room allows the clink of the beads colliding with one another to be heard throughout the room. The man dons a sharp jet-black suit paired with a fashionable white shirt and a dark blue tie. Inhaling deeply, he approaches the plexiglass podium and perches his notes and Macbook on top. With bright white lights illuminating him, he glances through the audience, returning each attentive stare with a cordial gaze.

I am in the audience at an event organized by an African-based nonprofit organization that centers on encouraging and promoting literacy. I attend this event upon the compulsion of my parents, and I listen to his words halfheartedly, constantly checking my phone for a notification. Yet, my screen remains as blank as an empty bottle. However, as he narrates the story of the strenuous journey from humble beginnings in Botswana to obtaining a degree from Stanford, one of the most esteemed and reputable universities in the world, I begin to cling to each phrase. 

“ …and I left Botswana in pursuit of better educational opportunities in the hope that one day, I would use the education in the service of my country and continent,” he declares as he clenches his fists, highlighting his words’ intensity and painting a clear image of his struggles and persistence in the crowd’s minds. Listening to his statements, I learn that, having established himself in the United States, he supports others by partnering with nonprofits such as the African Library Project in order to donate thousands of books to underprivileged African households, including those in his home country of Botswana. As someone who has taken the simple pleasure of reading a book for granted, I can barely comprehend the difficulties faced by those living without books. During the pandemic and subsequent closure of libraries, relying on e-books in contrast to hard cover books pushed me away from reading. However, I did not realize the extent of my privilege that allowed me to have access to any variety of books to begin with. Like a gardener, he plants the seeds of education in African youth, with his accomplishments serving as an inspiration to the younger generation.

He receives a thundering ovation from the audience after concluding his speech. Yet, walking out of the room with my family, I am unable to shed the notion that I need to speak with him. I am deeply moved by what he said, and I feel compelled to thank him for it. Persuading my parents to turn back, I notice him as he exits. As he meets my eyes, I am unable to speak, overcome with anxiety. Acknowledging my hesitance, he extends his weathered and calloused hands for me to shake. I see the resolve in his bold brown eyes in that instant, a man who has conquered adversity and attained success. In conversation, the two of us exchange phone numbers as I express my appreciation for his unrelenting efforts. When the conversation begins to wane, my father prompts me by asking about my dream college.

“Oh, my dream college is Stanford!” I respond enthusiastically.

Pausing, he takes a slight step back and looks me up and down, assessing me. “I am confident that you will achieve your goal,” he states at last with a sense of finality, emphasizing the ‘will’ as if he already knows a future in which I have successfully been accepted by Stanford. His statement fills me with the same admiration I felt as he spoke on stage a few minutes ago. Wow, I think to myself, This man is truly something special.