At 7 years old, I could not believe my ears: Introduced to me my aunt whom I usually visited on Christmas as my mother, and the person I called my mother my aunt. As time passed, I started noticing other things too— my aunt’s unusual affection, fake smiles, and talking about my resemblance to Pacifique—a stranger. Then, I understood my mom’s sacrifices, entrusting me to her sister as she pursued her studies and work. I would sit in class feeling the shame of the label, an outcast, I carried. As shame turned into depression, and later into loneliness, I grew into a reserved and introverted kid. In this difficulty, my mother, however, worked tirelessly to send me to school and to provide, but it was still a lot to bear. So, regularly reciting the serenity prayer, offered solace and enabled me to embrace the rich lifelong advice mom gave me. Now, with a better grasp of my identity, I channeled all my passion into excelling academically. I immersed myself in books, both required and personal explorations. The hard work paid off, earning me a spot at Rwanda’s prestigious ESC Byimana, thanks to being Murambi’s best performer in the national primary leaving examination. The excitement to attend this school was later drowned by the realization that it was a luxury, as my mom could not afford the school fees. As I told Mom about my educational dreams, surprisingly she said: “Can you reach out to Pacifique?” the hurt in her eyes gave me an answer, and what made me think he would show up for me? Yes, I never met Pacifique or knew his child support. Nonetheless, I took the initiative to find him to support my education even though it meant traveling kilometers to reach him and he completely dismissed me. This contempt made me feel like I betrayed my mother, but she understood my will to study. Fortunately, I started high school with support from teachers and the community. High school felt like a second chance. As I overcame depression, I became more aware of the side effects it posed. From this awareness came the idea of an initiative that brings people together to share their backgrounds and listen to comfort one another, I created the “Here For You” club. Here For You is a haven for vulnerability, laughter, and, most importantly, growth. It became a significant factor in overcoming depression and apprehension. In the initiative, we launched Tinyuka Urashoboye “Dare, You are Able” project, where we fundraised $150 to help students who struggled with school fees. Moreover, we helped teen mothers in our school community return to school by aiding with stationery and hens to boost their children's nutrition. We continued listening habits, which untied them from their backgrounds, nurtured mental wellness, and augmented their academic performances. I find pursuing psychology to be key in learning more about human decision-making and extending support in my community as well, as also Rwanda has a prevalent number of people with mental health problems. With this, I long for a higher education, which would augment my knowledge and help me achieve this, which Loyola University New Orleans' psychology major and psychology club will provide. I find the the Arnetha V. Bishop Memorial Scholarship to be a great opportunity for me to pursue my dreams and get those desired skills and experiences to bring change in the community. I continued to find more inspiration in my mother, who never gave up, either. I will never give up finding that opportunity to bring positivity to my community, which will benefit everyone.

I was seven years old when I first heard ‘Ikinyendaro.’ A word that I didn’t have to seek the definition to feel its unpleasant heaviness. ‘Iki’—a prefix that starts the name of a thing. A new identity that labeled me as an outcast and put me in a solitary pit. As time passed, I started noticing other things too— my aunt’s unusual affection and my odd compulsion to her, gossip of the lack of resemblance to my parents and resemblance to Pacifique, a stranger. Later, my confusion was replaced by the tragic truth that the woman I called my aunt was, in fact, my mom, and that I was labeled at birth ‘Ikinyendaro’ by my arrival into the world as a child out of wedlock. With clarity came an understanding of my mom’s sacrifices, entrusting me to her sister as she pursued her studies and work. With clarity, I also felt unease every time I tried to approach my guardians to ask for something, often resulting in me abandoning the idea. I would sit in class feeling the shame of the label I carried with me. Shame turned into depression, which turned into loneliness, the burial of the full-of-life child, and the rise of a quiet child. In a world that grew uncertain, one thing remained constant: my mom's love and dedication. She worked tirelessly to send me to school and provide for my essential needs to the best of her abilities. I forgave my father and channeled all my passion into excelling academically. I could not afford those high-quality schools, but I could strive for my best where I was. With that, I came to be at the top of my class with a vision to become someone who can help my community and help those who can not access the same opportunities, especially in the medical field. After doing well in my school as the best performer in my high school, I continued to see that if I had to bring that great impact to the community, I had to come up with something different and be competent to lead that change I wanted to see in my community, that is how studying in United States became my ambition as I wanted to get that great experience and skills that can help to become that person I dreamt to be. Along that journey of striving to get good grades and all opportunities that can help me for my desired destination, I continued to encounter a lot of problems regarding the harsh education system our country tough us in and different challenges regarding application. As I set my bar high, I believed that I could make it to my university as I was offered admission. Unfortunately, the situation became more difficult as I could not be offered enough scholarship to make my presence at my desired university possible. I did not give up, and I believe that the more challenges, the stronger I become. I find the Special Needs Advocacy Bogdan Radich Memorial Scholarship to be a great opportunity for me to pursue my dreams, get skills and experiences to bring change in the community. I continued to find more inspiration in my mother, who never gave up, either. I will never give up finding that opportunity to bring positivity to my community, which will benefit everyone. I envision myself in postgraduate time helping my community with those skills in psychology, neuroscience, and many other fields that seem to be behind, and serving my community to bring the support that I longed for since I was in my primary.

I grew up with a very demanding job with two key KPIs: keeping peace and order among my five siblings and promoting general well-being. If my home was the UN, and it felt like it, I was the Secretary-General: my power, although limited, had influence. My job was versatile: to Brian, I was an anxious bodyguard; to Keziah, an unqualified teacher; to Ora, a weary father; to Daphne and Gian, a necessary comforter. The demands were high, and the job had no paid leave - or pay. Eventually, frustration grew among the working class - me. I hated my fate. Yet, I have learned how much the things we hate make the best of us! At 8, I woke up early to beat Brian’s pee, prepping us for school. Then we would walk to the school bus, hand-in-hand, I on the road’s inner side to shield him from Kigali’s infamous motorcyclists. These walks cemented our brotherly love: we still borrow them to talk about future dreams and college hopes and sometimes about a crush whom we can’t shake off. Brian was the troublemaker: who broke my dad’s radio? Who tasted my dad’s whiskey? We all knew Brian! But he was my Brian, so every walk became a deep conversation and soft scolding, nudges towards better behavior, his safety, and growth space. To Keziah, I became the math teacher who worried about her marks, checked her homework, and led revisions. Keziah’s attention was almost non-existent: the rigor of multiplication tables was not as fun as chasing a butterfly or making mooing sounds while running for her favorite toy. To solve one question on the very complex Grade 1 mathematics would sometimes take half an hour of begging, bribing, and threatening. I had one choice: do my job; I stuck to it. This, sticking to it, I think, is one of the most important lessons I have learned so far. For Ora, I am the father - not literally. Just with the age difference, I could be! Her abundant energy and excitement for life require keeping a close eye on her. Ora’s bursts of energy are as infuriating as entertaining. She runs to me after school to tell me that she learned ‘two’ - to her young brain, a fascinating phenomenon! “Why does dad have no hair while mommy has a lot?” With Ora, no question is stupid. Her questions inspire mine: What are the genetics behind baldness among most middle-aged men? Later, what is the phenomenon’s evolutionary reason? My cousins, Daphne and Gian, moved in after a turbulent time at their home. Daphne was more of the challenging girl and Gian more of the stubborn boy. But with every effort, they are getting better. Change usually sprouts from it. Brian taught me the preciousness of second chances. His vulnerability opened me up, as well, allowing me to realize that from Keziah, I acquired the greatest of virtues: patience! From Ora, I acquired a voracious curiosity, a joie de vivre, that has become a true guiding light. Daphne and Gian allowed me to build a safe space during times of trouble, a privilege to provide a home for others. It seems that the more responsibility I take, the richer my life becomes. We receive a lot whenever we give. Isn’t this a paradox? The jewels of my childhood are attached to the responsibilities I was privileged enough to bear. In leaning in and deciding to take up some mantle, it seems that a sea of possibilities opens up, allowing us to grow.

I was seven years old when I first heard ‘Ikinyendaro.’ A word that I didn’t have to seek the definition to feel its unpleasant heaviness. ‘Iki’—a prefix that starts the name of a thing. A new identity that labeled me as an outcast and put me in a solitary pit. As time passed, I started noticing other things too— my aunt’s unusual affection and my odd compulsion to her, gossip of the lack of resemblance to my parents and resemblance to Pacifique, a stranger. Later, my confusion was replaced by the tragic truth that the woman I called my aunt was, in fact, my mom, and that I was labeled at birth ‘Ikinyendaro’ by my arrival into the world as a child out of wedlock. With clarity came an understanding of my mom’s sacrifices, entrusting me to her sister as she pursued her studies and work. With clarity, I also felt unease every time I tried to approach my guardians to ask for something, often resulting in me abandoning the idea. I would sit in class feeling the shame of the label I carried with me. Shame turned into depression, which turned into loneliness, the burial of the full-of-life child, and the rise of a quiet child. In a world that grew uncertain, one thing remained constant: my mom's love and dedication. She worked tirelessly to send me to school and provide for my essential needs to the best of her abilities. I forgave my father and channeled all my passion into excelling academically. I could not afford those high-quality schools, but I could strive for my best where I was. With that, I came to be at the top of my class with a vision to become someone who can help my community and help those who can not access the same opportunities, especially in the medical field. After doing well in my school as the best performer in my high school, I continued to see that if I had to bring that great impact to the community, I had to come up with something different and be competent to lead that change I wanted to see in my community, that is how studying in United States became my ambition as I wanted to get that great experience and skills that can help to become that person I dreamt to be. Along that journey of striving to get good grades and all opportunities that can help me for my desired destination, I continued to encounter a lot of problems regarding the harsh education system our country tough us in and different challenges regarding application. As I set my bar high, I believed that I could make it to my university as I was offered admission. Unfortunately, the situation became more difficult as I could not be offered enough scholarship to make my presence at my desired university possible. I did not give up, and I believe that the more challenges, the stronger I become. I find the Christina Taylese Singh Memorial Scholarship to be a great opportunity for me to pursue my dreams and get those desired skills and experiences to bring change in the community. I continued to find more inspiration in my mother, who never gave up, either. I will never give up finding that opportunity to bring positivity to my community, which will benefit everyone. I envision myself in postgraduate time helping my community with those skills in psychology, neuroscience, and many other fields that seem to be behind, and serving my community to bring the support that I longed for since my primary school.

I was seven years old when I first heard ‘Ikinyendaro.’ A word that I didn’t have to seek the definition to feel its unpleasant heaviness. ‘Iki’—a prefix that starts the name of a thing. A new identity that labeled me as an outcast and put me in a solitary pit. As time passed, I started noticing other things too— my aunt’s unusual affection and my odd compulsion to her, gossip of the lack of resemblance to my parents and resemblance to Pacifique, a stranger. Later, my confusion was replaced by the tragic truth that the woman I called my aunt was, in fact, my mom, and that I was labeled at birth ‘Ikinyendaro’ by my arrival into the world as a child out of wedlock. With clarity came an understanding of my mom’s sacrifices, entrusting me to her sister as she pursued her studies and work. With clarity, I also felt unease every time I tried to approach my guardians to ask for something, often resulting in me abandoning the idea. I would sit in class feeling the shame of the label I carried with me. Shame turned into depression, which turned into loneliness, the burial of the full-of-life child, and the rise of a quiet child. In a world that grew uncertain, one thing remained constant: my mom's love and dedication. She worked tirelessly to send me to school and provide for my essential needs to the best of her abilities. I forgave my father and channeled all my passion into excelling academically. I could not afford those high-quality schools, but I could strive for my best where I was. With that, I came to be at the top of my class with a vision to become someone who can help my community and help those who can not access the same opportunities, especially in the medical field. After doing well in my school as the best performer in my high school, I continued to see that if I had to bring that great impact to the community, I had to come up with something different and be competent to lead that change I wanted to see in my community, that is how studying in United States became my ambition as I wanted to get that great experience and skills that can help to become that person I dreamt to be. Along that journey of striving to get good grades and all opportunities that can help me for my desired destination, I continued to encounter a lot of problems regarding the harsh education system our country tough us in and different challenges regarding application. As I set my bar high, I believed that I could make it to my university as I was offered admission. Unfortunately, the situation became more difficult as I could not be offered enough scholarship to make my presence at my desired university possible. I did not give up, and I believe that the more challenges, the stronger I become. I find the Pierson Family Scholarship to be a great opportunity for me to pursue my dreams and get those desired skills and experiences to bring change in the community. I continued to find more inspiration in my mother, who never gave up, either. I will never give up finding that opportunity to bring positivity to my community, which will benefit everyone. I envision myself in postgraduate time helping my community with those skills in psychology, neuroscience, and many other fields that seem to be behind, and serving my community to bring the support that I longed for since I was in my primary.

At 7 years old, I could not believe my ears: Introduced to me my aunt, whom I usually visited on Christmas as my mother, and the person I called my mother my aunt. As time passed, I started noticing other things too— my aunt’s unusual affection, fake smiles, and talking about my resemblance to Pacifique, a stranger. Then, I understood my mom’s sacrifices, entrusting me to her sister as she pursued her studies and work. I would sit in class feeling the shame of the label, of outcast, I carried. As shame turned into depression, and later into loneliness, I grew into a reserved and introverted kid. Now, with a better grasp of my identity, I channeled all my passion into excelling academically. The hard work paid off, earning me a spot at Rwanda’s prestigious ESC Byimana. The excitement to attend this school was later drowned by the realization that it was a luxury, as my mom could not afford the school fees. As I told Mom about my educational dreams, surprisingly, she said, “Can you reach out to Pacifique?” The hurt in her eyes gave me an answer, and what made me think he would show up for me? Yes, I never met Pacifique or knew his child support. Nonetheless, I took the initiative to find him to support my education, even though it meant traveling kilometers to reach him; he completely dismissed me. This contempt made me feel like I betrayed my mother, as she was very upset with me, but she understood my will to study. Fortunately, I started high school with support from teachers and the community. High school felt like a second chance. As I overcame depression, I became more aware of the side effects it posed. From this awareness came the idea of an initiative that brings people together to share their backgrounds and listen to comfort one another. I created the “Here For You” club. Here For You is a haven for vulnerability, laughter, and, most importantly, growth. It became a significant factor in overcoming depression and apprehension. In the initiative, we launched the Tinyuka Urashoboye “Dare, You are Able” project, where we fundraised $150 to help students who struggled with school fees. We helped teen mothers in our school community return to school by providing stationery and hens for their children's nutrition, which helped them to improve academically. I find pursuing psychology to be key in learning more about human decision-making and extending support in my community, as Rwanda also has a high number of people with mental health problems. Conversely, few specialists back them. With this, I long for a higher education, which would augment my knowledge and help me achieve this, which Loyola University New Orleans' psychology major and psychology club will provide. However, with my low financial background and my merit-based scholarship, which does not cover the whole cost of attendance, it makes it more difficult to get that experience and create that desired impact. By getting the Daniel V. Marrano Memorial Scholarship Support for Mental Health, it can be another opportunity to achieve those dreams while creating that impact, something Daniel V. Marrano would wish to happen. I believe that getting the required funds to attend my school would be a big step towards achieving it. I envision impacting my college community while acquiring enough skills to return and expand "Tinyuka Urashoboye" and pursuing a professional and prolific career as a psychologist, all to improve mental wellness in our community. I believe this will help me give back to my community, making it better than I found it.

In grade 8, when a girl ranked first nationally, instead of accepting her achievement, many dismissed it, attributing her success to equity-driven “tolerances” for girls. Besides that, there is no intellectual difference between genders. I saw how stereotypes blinded their perceptions of gender capabilities. These ideas made me think about how we can address the issue. As I was driven to empower women to be bold, I organized colloquiums in class where we shared our perspectives on the topic. This instilled within me a will to drive that change in my school and reflected my values regarding equity, equality, and togetherness. By grade ten, I was determined to make everyone feel urged to be bold and confident. With that, I launched Tinyuka Urashoboye (“Dare, You Are Able”), a project empowering girls to rise above stereotypes and societal expectations. Being seen as a feminist was something hard to withstand—I was committed. With like-minded individuals, I conducted forums, and through role plays, we demonstrated women's capabilities, fostering self-esteem in girls. Allowing myself to quarrel about women's abilities enhanced my perspectives, yet equity is needed. With Tinyuka Urashoboye, girls in my school became more competitive academically, boosting their Esteem, and achieving unprecedented success, which taught me resilience. We aimed to tackle some constraints women face by fundraising $120 to help teen mothers return to school: providing them with stationery and two hens per family to assist with their finances and nutrition. Seven girls returned to school, a milestone that encouraged us, augmenting self-esteem, allowing them to excel academically, and inspiring other vulnerable women to dare. By this, the girls in my school, particularly in the Dare, You Are Able club, were able to start thinking that they can do even more than what they thought they could at their young age. Moreover, the school awarded me the exemplary student award for giving a good example of how we could treat each other and ourselves, to achieve more in our lives. This journey taught me that leadership creates environments where others thrive. Excellence in Action Scholarship could be another opportunity for me to learn from others and continue to pursue my Psychology courses which would help me to also give thorough advice to those who are in need. Getting this scholarship will motivate me to also bring something new to the common that I will be in. I believe that my dedication to the Common Good aligns with my passion for fostering equity and uplifting marginalized voices. I aim to collaborate with Excellence in Action scholarships to link learning with action through interdisciplinary studies and service, to inspire resilience, and empower individuals to overcome limitations in my community and those I am in contact with.

I was seven years old when I first heard ‘Ikinyendaro.’ A word that I didn’t have to seek the definition to feel its unpleasant heaviness. ‘Iki’—a prefix that starts the name of a thing. A new identity that labeled me as an outcast and put me in a solitary pit. As time passed, I started noticing other things too— my aunt’s unusual affection and my odd compulsion to her, gossip of the lack of resemblance to my parents and resemblance to Pacifique, a stranger. Later, my confusion was replaced by the tragic truth that the woman I called my aunt was, in fact, my mom, and that I was labeled at birth ‘Ikinyendaro’ by my arrival into the world as a child out of wedlock. With clarity came an understanding of my mom’s sacrifices, entrusting me to her sister as she pursued her studies and work. With clarity, I also felt unease every time I tried to approach my guardians to ask for something, often resulting in me abandoning the idea. I would sit in class feeling the shame of the label I carried with me. Shame turned into depression, which turned into loneliness, the burial of the full-of-life child, and the rise of a quiet child. In a world that grew uncertain, one thing remained constant: my mom's love and dedication. She worked tirelessly to send me to school and provide for my essential needs to the best of her abilities. I forgave my father and channeled all my passion into excelling academically. I could not afford those high-quality schools, but I could strive for my best where I was. With that, I came to be at the top of my class with a vision to become someone who can help my community and help those who can not access the same opportunities, especially in the medical field. After doing well in my school as the best performer in my high school, I continued to see that if I had to bring that great impact to the community, I had to come up with something different and be competent to lead that change I wanted to see in my community, that is how studying in United States became my ambition as I wanted to get that great experience and skills that can help to become that person I dreamt to be. Along that journey of striving to get good grades and all opportunities that can help me for my desired destination, I continued to encounter a lot of problems regarding the harsh education system our country tough us in and different challenges regarding application. As I set my bar high, I believed that I could make it to my university as I was offered admission. Unfortunately, the situation became more difficult as I could not be offered enough scholarship to make my presence at my desired university possible. I did not give up, and I believe that the more challenges, the stronger I become. I find the Pierson Family Scholarship to be a great opportunity for me to pursue my dreams and get those desired skills and experiences to bring change in the community. I continued to find more inspiration in my mother, who never gave up, either. I will never give up finding that opportunity to bring positivity to my community, which will benefit everyone. I envision myself in postgraduate time helping my community with those skills in psychology, neuroscience, and many other fields that seem to be behind, and serving my community to bring the support that I longed for since I was in my primary.

I was seven years old when I first heard ‘Ikinyendaro.’ A word that I didn’t have to seek the definition to feel its unpleasant heaviness. ‘Iki’—a prefix that starts the name of a thing. A new identity that labeled me as an outcast and put me in a solitary pit. As time passed, I started noticing other things too— my aunt’s unusual affection and my odd compulsion to her, gossip of the lack of resemblance to my parents and resemblance to Pacifique, a stranger. Later, my confusion was replaced by the tragic truth that the woman I called my aunt was, in fact, my mom, and that I was labeled at birth ‘Ikinyendaro’ by my arrival into the world as a child out of wedlock. With clarity came an understanding of my mom’s sacrifices, entrusting me to her sister as she pursued her studies and work. With clarity, I also felt unease every time I tried to approach my guardians to ask for something, often resulting in me abandoning the idea. I would sit in class feeling the shame of the label I carried with me. Shame turned into depression, which turned into loneliness, the burial of the full-of-life child, and the rise of a quiet child. In a world that grew uncertain, one thing remained constant: my mom's love and dedication. She worked tirelessly to send me to school and provide for my essential needs to the best of her abilities. I forgave my father and channeled all my passion into excelling academically. I could not afford those high-quality schools, but I could strive for my best where I was. With that, I came to be at the top of my class with a vision to become someone who can help my community and help those who can not access the same opportunities, especially in the medical field. After doing well in my school as the best performer in my high school, I continued to see that if I had to bring that great impact to the community, I had to come up with something different and be competent to lead that change I wanted to see in my community, that is how studying in United States became my ambition as I wanted to get that great experience and skills that can help to become that person I dreamt to be. Along that journey of striving to get good grades and all opportunities that can help me for my desired destination, I continued to encounter a lot of problems regarding the harsh education system our country tough us in and different challenges regarding application. As I set my bar high, I believed that I could make it to my university as I was offered admission. Unfortunately, the situation became more difficult as I could not be offered enough scholarship to make my presence at my desired university possible. I did not give up, and I believe that the more challenges, the stronger I become. I find the Pierson Family Scholarship to be a great opportunity for me to pursue my dreams and get those desired skills and experiences to bring change in the community. I continued to find more inspiration in my mother, who never gave up, either. I will never give up finding that opportunity to bring positivity to my community, which will benefit everyone. I envision myself in postgraduate time helping my community with those skills in psychology, neuroscience, and many other fields that seem to be behind, and serving my community to bring the support that I longed for since I was in my primary.

In March 2023, a surge in violence erupted in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) as FDLR and M23 fought in the east of DRC, forcing thousands of people to flee their homes, and many innocents died. Among those displaced was a young boy named Emmanuel, who, after restless nights of gunfire in North Kivu, found refuge in Rwanda. Having lost his parents during the chaos, Emmanuel now lives in a refugee camp, juggling caring for his siblings and attending school, which he walks 4 km daily to attend—often without anything to eat. Emmanuel’s story sympathized deeply with me because I witnessed his struggles to adapt when he enrolled in my school, from finding school materials to dealing with loneliness. Inspired by Emmanuel’s resilience and with a will to support him and individuals who faced the same challenges due to displacement, I reached out to connect with him. With the help of classmates and teachers, we raised $150 to support Emmanuel and a few other displaced students. We provided them with study stationery materials and a hen to enhance their family nutrition. Watching Emmanuel and other refugees socialize, regain hope, and excel in school reinforced my commitment to making a difference in my community. Students began to engage more openly with refugees, creating a sense of inclusivity and belonging that transcended our diverse backgrounds. I created a “Here For You” club, a haven of vulnerability, laughter, and, most importantly, growth. It became a significant factor in my healing process and others’, a rope thrown into the solitary pit we were willing to grab. Here, I tried to help people with the same issues so that they could continue to thrive in the community. We continued fundraising to help those in need. As a result, more than 10 refugees in my community returned to school, and we continued to follow up on their academics, which improved day by day. I see that I need to learn more about how to help my community improve in all aspects, as I believe that by promoting better education, more opportunities will open up for me. Moreover, I believe that by gaining more experience in education, I will be able to bring more innovative skills to solve issues for those in need, whether refugees or others facing challenges in my community. With this desire to move even further, it has become more difficult as I do not have enough funds to support my education. I believe that the Project X Memorial Scholarship is the best opportunity for me to excel academically and unlock my dreams of helping those in need. I want to leave the world better than I found it, with the help of other passionate people in the community to create solutions for everyone in need.

James Bond is to be blamed for all the dismantled chargers, radios, lights stocked up in my “Hush Corner”, and a few spanks from my mother. His multifunctional watch, his cars performing unique tasks, and his trackers sparked something that made me wonder if I could create something as ‘cool.’ This spark grew into a solution to my empty toy box, I started repairing radios and chargers and making my toys. All the home inventions were yet to be tested when a real-world situation emerged on my screen. I felt inclined to do something about it, a small step to a bigger problem. I was sitting in the living room watching the news when an image of a crying child surrounded by houses drenched in water appeared on the screen. Rwanda had experienced flooding in its northern province. Wondering what causes such tragedies, greenhouse gas emissions entered my search history. After seeking counsel, my teacher highlighted the urgency of taking action, which urged me to explore potential solutions. Overwhelmed by the vastness of the matter, I decided to take a small step: Start at home. After several failed attempts to get my mother to switch from a charcoal stove to a gas stove, I decided that the only way to get her to understand was by making it. I designed a blower stove, which absorbed air, increased combustion, and decreased emissions. The blower stove was assembled to make it affordable and accessible for my mom and other low-income families. Thrilled by the stove's results, I started contemplating the impact it would make if more people were involved. The contemplation led to Bright Environment Vision, an environmental conservation project. Among the few steps I took was to persuade one person to embody the vision. I decided to start with a friend. As I took a walk brainstorming a place of impact to start from, I noticed that in front was the kitchen with a black cloud exiting from the chimney. Since a blower stove couldn’t be an adequate solution, it gave rise to our initial project: to make a multi-purpose smoke absorber that could absorb carbon dioxide, generate energy, and make fertilizer. The smoke absorber is made of different parts with different roles to make it effective and efficient. Using fan-powered dynamos, the machine absorbs the smoke, leading the smoke to another chamber. The smoke that propels through chambers and its pressure make the turbines rotate, generating energy that can be used to turn on lamps or different things according to the amount of smoke and pressure. The smoke absorbed can be stored as a gas in the absence of a cooling system or condensed into liquids that can be poured into gardens to enrich the soil with CO2, essential for photosynthesis, in the presence of a cooling system. The process of recognizing and thinking about potential solutions, turning what other people would deem crazy thoughts into tangible creations, is delightful and gratifying. From observing and questioning to seeking answers, the whole process has been a learning journey—a journey of self-discovery and building the right empathy and courage to play a role in my community. Even though the world failed the child on TV, we took the smallest step of hope for future generations. My blower stove, our smoke absorber, every ‘cool’ gadget, only this time, non-fiction.