Reminders Of Home

     Mariatu has been in London for a few weeks by now but hasn't really enjoyed the grayness of the London city. She hates the weather and she hates the way that the people look at her whether or not she has her device on or not. As she walks she misses her hometown; she misses the bright colors of her home. One day while walking with Yaboom she sees a glimpse of herself in somebody.
" He was maybe 20, and his blonde hair was dirty and matted. He wore a torn overcoat, a knitted brown hat, and ripped, stained jeans. His hands were covered in dirt and he had yellow fingers, likely from cigarette smoking, Yaboom told me. Sometimes the man would just sit on the cold cement. Sometimes he played the guitar. Once I saw him playing an African drum. He wasn't very good, not like the boys at home, whose drumming was fast and deep. But he tried. I'd elbow Yaboom as softly as I could with the contraption to indicate that we should give him some money... "...This boy is like me back at the amputee camp,"I'd plead.
     Mariatu saw a little glimpse of herself through that young man. He was homeless and he needed money to make a living, or at least to live. Mariatu at one point had to do that too because she had not only herself to take care of but, a little baby boy as well. She desperately needed food for her growing child so that he could be healthy and have a decent chance at life. Mariatu felt that she had to give something to that young man because she remembered all of the people who had given money to her so that she could feed herself.
     This can connect to the world because there are many people who have shared their stories with the world of how they grew up in horrible conditions or in third world countries and how they are giving their time and money back to those places so that people don't have to do through what they did. Making the world a better place is a big job, unless you yourself have heart and passion.