24-Hour Photo Essay

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"The Twelve" by Alexander Blok

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Stephen Kumalo: Preacher, Father, Brother

Stephen Kumalo, a prominent character in Cry, The Beloved Country, could be described as a dynamic character. He endures many difficulties and faces many fears throughout the novel. A preacher, a father, and a brother, Stephen Kumalo is expected to be the epitome of a righteous man. Alan Paton shows through Kumalo that everyone fails from time to time, despite what is expected of him or her.

With Stephen Kumalo being a preacher, readers expect him to constantly be praying, preaching, serving, and studying. Kumalo does not fail at his profession, but rather he shows readers how difficult some situations can be. Kumalo says to Msimangu when he is invited to come pray, “There is no prayer left in me. I am dumb here inside. I have no words at all” (page 67). This portion of the novel marks the point where Kumalo is so exhausted and overcome with emotion that he no longer has a desire to pray and grow in his faith. This is not outrageous because it happens to people of every religion, race, and country. It is not out of the norm to lose faith, but people rarely think of preachers struggling with their faith because they are always viewed as righteous and holy.

Stephen Kumalo is horrified at the news of his son's murdering a white man, as any father would be. Despite the disappointment that comes about with this overwhelming news, when Kumalo visits Absalom in the prison, he says, “My child, my child… At last I have found you” (page 130). Any other father would be enraged with his son in this first moment, but Kumalo shows compassion and care for his son despite his mistakes. He has long awaited the reunion with his son and he is not going to let his emotions get the best of him. John Kumalo, who acts as a foil to Stephen Kumalo, encourages his son to lie in this situation and sets a bad example for his son. If he cared for the well-being of his son like Stephen Kumalo does, he would encourage his son to make the virtuous decision.

Stephen Kumalo would have never traveled to Johannesburg if not for a letter from a fellow preacher warning him that his sister, Gertrude, was sick. When Kumalo found his sister, he realized that her "sickness" was actually prostitution. While talking with her for the first time in what seems like an eternity, "His eyes fill with tears, his deep gentleness returns to him. He goes to her and lifts her from the floor to the chair. Inarticulately he strokes her face, his heart filled with pity." (page 61). It is human nature to be angry or upset when someone discovers something that displeases him or her. Though Kumalo was probably disappointed in this moment, he showed love to his sister who had not experienced real love and compassion since moving to Johannesburg. This action shows a lot about Kumalo's self-control and character altogether.

If Stephen Kumalo had never risked the journey to Johannesburg, he would still be the naive preacher from the tribe. He never would have seen his brother, sister, or son again. His faith would not have been tested so strongly. He would have never realized that the tribe is broken for good. Though many of these realizations pained him, they made him stronger as well. Alan Paton shows through Kumalo that expectations and stereotypes do not define a person - actions do.

The Beauty of Appreciation

I believe in the little things – the small details that no one seems to notice.

I have always taken notice in the small things, and maybe that is neither a positive nor negative habit.  I am not referring to my tendency to want everything to be organized or my obsession for cleanliness. I am referring to the beauty of the things in life that cannot be savored enough. They cannot be caught in a jar; they must be experienced. After all, if you never stop to smell the roses, how will you know what they smell like?

I get in a rush. I wake up late. I cannot function without my breakfast, and if my hair is not perfect, I might as well call it a day. But starting at a very young age, I began recognizing the beauty of people and places, rather than the ugly, which is what most attention is drawn towards. My mother has always drilled this approach in my mind: “Seek the good in the world. Be the good in the world.” Things like sunsets, the first hints of a new season, laughter, doors held open, naps on Sunday afternoons, and rain showers that send someone to sleep are things that remind me of the good in the world.

These occurrences go unappreciated, but they shine just as bright the next time they come around. They are humble and honest, but not shy. Best of all, they are free. Not only are they available for anyone of any background to enjoy, but they are not bound by rules, restrictions, guidelines, or contracts. They come and go as they might. They are effortless and maybe even more beautiful for that. They carry themselves with a cool confidence that every celebrity and public figures should envy.

My favorite aspect of all these occurrences is the hope they carry. Sunsets and sunrises bring the hope of a new day. Laughter shows the hope in every situation. Doors held open give me hope for humanity. This hope cannot be bought, no matter the offer; they are not for sale. The hope and joy that these events come along with must be found. It does not take much to find these things because they occur every day. We may have to stop texting for a brief moment to take notice. Hope cannot be found on a phone screen, inside a fortune cookie, or even at the bottom of a stack of paperwork. We have to stand still and look around at the beauty that constantly surrounds us and experience it for ourselves.

Life does not have to be perfect to be enjoyable. In fact, we are rarely content with our lives anyways. Why? We are looking for the wrong things in all the wrong places. Look up, look down, and look all around. Beautiful things are everywhere, and what are we doing? We are complaining that the barista did not put enough whipped cream on our double espresso mocha frappuccino. Seek the little things in life while we are still here to enjoy them.

 

Cheesy Chicken Noodle Soup

Ingredients:

1 Chicken

5 cups of water

1/2 tsp. pepper

4 bouillon cubes

1 tsp. salt

1 med. chopped onion

1 box noodles

Preparation:

A chicken is baked until golden-brown. It must be a whole chicken, preferably medium-sized. After it has somewhat cooled, debone and cut up the chicken. Some of my fondest childhood memories were spent helping my mother and grandmother prepare this comforting meal. Cut up two cups of carrots and potatoes. Submerge these vegetables in a pot of five cups of water.

The aroma of these vegetables being cooked will forever remind me of chilly autumn days spent indoors. One particular instance was when I was nine years old. I was home from school with pneumonia. With such a great grandma as my Mimi, I was waited on hand and foot. She did everything my cousins and I could ever need and more. Not a single school program, sporting event, or band concert was ever unattended by my Mimi. She was a number one fan to six athletes, students, and band members.

When reminded of my precious Mimi, I can recall one particular event that occurred when I was ill with pneumonia. She picked me up from my house fairly early in the morning so both of my parents could go to work. When we arrived at her ranch-style house, a place I also considered my home, she unloaded my belongings from the car, and we went inside to escape the chill that would disappear once we reached the comfort of her house.

Once we reached the kitchen, cozier than most, she turned to me and unrelatedly asked, "Molly, do you know what letter the word 'pneumonia' starts with?"

As any fourth grader would, I believed that it was a trick question. I replied in a fashion that displayed no confidence with, "The letter 'n'?"

When she corrected me and announced that it begins with a silent 'p', I was more than likely confused and annoyed. But over years of reflecting on this special moment with my Mimi, I have realized how much this says about her. Not only did she love and care for me, but she valued my education and success. She would not allow her grandchildren to be mediocre. We were to be extraordinary, just like her.

After hours of laughter, hot chocolate, bundles of blankets, and board games, it was time for my mom to come over. Their ritual was to visit over cups of black coffee and stacks of newspaper. It was my role to sit with them, doodle on unnecessary mail, and attempt to chime in at inappropriate times. After this, my mom got up, rinsed out the mugs, and began to prepare my favorite autumn meal - homemade chicken noodle soup. After the vegetables are put in the pot, the chicken and one box of noodles are added. The soup stays on the heat and Velveeta is added just at the end. Serve this delectable soup with Saltine crackers.

My mom has always expanded the quantities of the ingredients so everyone can enjoy as much of this comfort food as they please. This soup is just as delicious as a left-over. She brought the soup to me where I was swallowed by the couch that may or may not have been jumped upon a few too many times by my wiry cousins. I ate the soup slowly, savoring every spoonful. I had not had an appetite all day, but I suddenly felt the desire to eat. Not only did I feel well enough to eat once I smelled soup cooking, but I felt well enough to attend school the next day. Sometimes the best medicine is a bowl of soup and good company.

Molly's Village

Whether we realize it or not, someone is looking up to us. Through the best and worst of times, there is always another person stretching his or her legs as far as possible in order to step in the same places that we have.

In Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s story, “The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World,” average village people found a man who had drowned at sea. The generous women of the tiny town cleaned him off, handmade clothing for him, and proclaimed that his name was Esteban. But the story does not end there. Esteban was not a regular man. He was, “the tallest, strongest, most virile, and best built man they had ever seen…” When the women discovered that he did not belong to the surrounding villages, they were overjoyed that they could be in his presence for just a bit longer.

Though the people of the village had no idea what kind of life Esteban might have led when he was still alive, they were all inspired by the incredible man. He could have been a homeless, rejected criminal, but they treated him like royalty. I can only hope that people who do not know me would treat me with such kindness as these people treated Esteban.

As common village people, it would be easy for the endless days to run together, with nothing to look forward to, other than the next day’s chores. Esteban’s visit was a major event in their lives as it gave them hope and excitement. We can see how much Esteban meant to them by their vows to make their doors wider, ceilings taller, and floors stronger to accommodate someone of such enormous size. Esteban did not give these people something to do for a day; he gave them something to talk about for the rest of their lives.

I hope to one day inspire others without having to open my mouth, like Esteban did. People will look at me and say, “in fourteen languages, look there, where the wind is so peaceful now that it's gone to sleep beneath the beds, over there, where the sun's so bright that the sunflowers don't know which way to turn, yes, over there, that's [Molly]'s village.” Esteban will continue to inspire people as long as this touching tale lives.

PHOTO: Japanese Commuters Tilt Train To Free Trapped Woman

Be the Good in the World

When we turn on the daily news at 10 o'clock every evening, we are reminded of all the evil in this world. People are being murdered senselessly, homes are no longer places of safety, and no one goes in public without acknowledging the potential risks. Of course, there are always exceptions. In this piece, we see that good people still exist.

 In the past year alone, I have heard countless stories of movie theatre killings, marathon bombings, school shootings, and many other horrendous instances. When these stories emerge, we are quick to think of the political side to the story. But the reality is that gun laws and homeland security will not cure the madness. The only hope is for each person to vow to be the good in the world. As Fred Rogers once said, “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.'" It is our job to fulfill that duty of helping those who are in need.

In this news report, that is exactly what we see: helpers. These subway-riders had countless other places to be on that day, but they chose to pitch in and help the woman who could have been left to die. When I came across this picture, I was stunned that roughly forty people were able to tilt a 32-ton subway car. Not only did they sacrifice time to help a stranger, but they sacrificed energy. It is too easy to think about helping the needy, just to stand at a distance and watch. These average civilians were bold and unafraid, as this situation could have been dangerous for those who saw the need to rescue the woman.

It is no doubt that this occurrence has restored my faith in humanity.