When I was younger, possibly around the age of 9, I had the rare privilege of meeting the Minister of Health during an excursion. When I was prompted by my teacher to “tell or ask her anything I wanted”, I opted to sing for her instead. Of all the songs that I knew at the time, I picked the one that resonated most with me: “Ghetto” by Akon. I think subconsciously I knew I wanted my legacy to be tied to adequate housing. To me, legacy means sacrifice. Legacy asks, “what cause, belief or lifestyle are you willing to sacrifice everything for that influences and could even go beyond impacting just your family, friends, and yourself?” If I could assemble 3 people to specifically thank them for how their legacies have touched me deeply, they would be: i) My dad (Amby) for his belief that my education was more important than the (dis)comfort of the mat on which we lay. ii) Apostle Paul for his lifestyle of perseverance and patience while propagating the Gospel. iii) Martin Luther King for fighting the undying cause of the oppressed in the issue of civil rights. You should know that one thing these three people have in common is that at some point in their lives, they were or advocated for the homeless. When I think about the legacy I want to leave behind, I want nothing more than for someone to recognize the efforts that I made to put a solid roof and foundation under the head and feet of the individual in need of it. As someone who lived through homelessness during my formative years on Earth, I know what it’s like to not have a place to call your own and worse, to feel like no one cares. If I had my way, I would make sure that no one ever feels that way. But praise be, I’m doing my best to have my way. In my home country, I have worked continually to house people who have been displaced because of terrorist acts. From running various campaigns on the local radio in order to raise awareness to organizing fundraising events, my team and I have been able to respond to the situation by building 10 structures that can house 6 people each. The unbridled joy on the faces of some of my fellow citizens at the realization that they no longer have to use banners, sticks, and leaves –materials that are vulnerable to harsh weather conditions and ineffective in guarding against deadly insects ¬ gives me the strength and encouragement to push on. My long-term career goal is to establish my own Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) that tackles the issue of homelessness and I’m making efforts to be prepared for the challenge. The architect that I worked with to build the houses is currently doing her Master’s in the U.K. and I will be pursuing mine this fall at U.S.C. We intend to sharpen our minds, upgrade our skills, gather more experience, and reconvene to give this goal a really good shot. Should we succeed, we would be able to alter many lives positively, and I’m zealous for it. Finally, for me, leaving a legacy means more than what will you be remembered for while you lived. Rather it means what did you sacrifice while you lived. While there may be different kinds of valuable legacies, given that there are different facets of life in which one can make a positive impact such as in public service, health, government, etc., I feel that a pertinent question to ask oneself is, “who are you sacrificing for?” Are you sacrificing your time, energy, resources, mental health for the cause of others or only for yourself? Are you sacrificing the lives, livelihoods, comfort of others for your own personal advancement or the advancement of your people only? These are the guiding questions and thoughts that I reflect on particularly when I begin to feel overwhelmed. And thus far, my answers to these questions have helped me stay grounded, focused, and encouraged. When I was younger, I sang a song about people living in the ghetto and on the streets. Now that I’m getting older, I hope I can get people to sing about getting out of the ghetto and off the streets. Thanks for reading!

“Profe, no quiero! No quiero aprenderlo… no quiero entenderlo… no me gusta ingles!” Yesenia then slams her book shut and runs out of the classroom, crying. Maria-Jose, the headteacher, has a blank stare on her face and I’m sitting there at the back of this 7th grade classroom asking what on earth I’ve gotten myself into. I had just arrived in Chile about 3 weeks before this incident. I was there to volunteer as an English teacher in order to give the students I was going to be teaching the first-hand experience of conversing with a native English speaker. The Ministry of Education assigned me to Villa Prat – a small town in the region of Maule– and given that I was going to be there for a year, I was determined to make Villa Prat my new home. My new community. For context, there are two things to keep in mind. First, when I arrived in Chile, I had zero knowledge about the people, the culture, and most critically the language. Second, Villa Prat was a very rural town. The primary occupation there was farming (my host parents were farmers too), and my students came to school on horses. In essence, they did not see the need to learn English at all because most of them aspired to be farmers, nurses, or soldiers within the town as well. Thus, they were generally disinterested in learning English. Living in this environment was a classic sink-or-swim experience for me that taught (possibly forced?) me to be patient with myself and adaptable. My 300+ students were expected to speak English, even though all their English classes were taught in Spanish. Hence, even my 6th graders couldn't say 1-10 in English. Nevertheless, despite Yesenia’s reaction and similar sentiments expressed by many of my students, I was determined to motivate them and help them succeed in English. As I spent more time interacting with the people within my community, I noticed that the majority of the older people had been in the army and with this came a deep sense of veteran pride which my students acknowledged and admired. Combining this pride with my love for basketball, I came up with "Troops Hoop". This was a game we played at the end of every lesson series that helped them with counting, tenses, commands, etc. The game also involved treats for the winners. Besides the educational aspect of the game, it was the instrument I used to teach my students how to lose with dignity. I challenged them to channel their desire to win by practicing English more, rather than by sabotaging the treats of the winners. With fun and hard work, my students began to enjoy learning English and proved it with an overall grade improvement of 37% in their final exams! That improvement really encouraged me, and I couldn’t have been prouder. In addition to school activities, after school, I organized extracurricular events for my students (and some non-teaching staff) in which I would work one-on-one with those who wished to have more interactions in English. During these activities, I would read or tell stories, teach slightly more complex topics etc. and after various “campaigns” about the benefits of the extracurriculars, I was able to get a lot of buy-in from my students. One memory I’ll never forget was when Yesenia gave me a note, albeit in Spanish to fully express herself, after a class session. In the note, she talked about how she initially wanted to quit my class because she felt she wasn’t good enough and that some of her teachers had made her feel that way. Words can’t really describe the sheer disappointment I felt. However, I reassured her and integrated her into the extracurriculars. With that little extra practice, Yesenia, who had initially said she didn’t like English and she didn’t want to learn it, earned one of the top grades at the end of the school year. Words can’t really describe the sheer joy she felt. Above all, although I don’t intend to pursue teaching as a future career, I’m convinced that it’s an important part of my life that I must dedicate time to. Presently, I’m involved in the children’s department at my local church where we teach them the values of the Bible through stories and dramas. When I begin my MBA at USC in the fall, I’m looking forward to volunteering as a Conversation Teacher at the Los Angeles Public Library, should the Covid-19 restrictions permit this activity. Seeing as this is a weekly, one-two hour volunteer service, I don’t anticipate it having a significant strain on my other responsibilities at USC. Better yet, this position allows for cross-cultural communication, thereby letting me further scale up the spirit of diversity and inclusion in my immediate community. Talk about a win-win situation! When I consider the one thing that I would like to be remembered for, there are two words that come to my mind: Impactful Service. It is absolutely important to me that I not be a bystander in any community I find myself in and I think it is essential for people to be involved in their communities because in every single one there are pain points. I believe that if the people within a community refuse to address those pain points, then directly or indirectly, they are harming their own lives and doing themselves a disservice. As it is fittingly sung “…we are the ones who make a brighter day, so let’s start giving…” our time, our energy, our resources because the bottom line for me is everybody, regardless of social status, class, age etc. has something to offer that can alter the life of another positively and permanently. “… so let’s start (and continue) giving...”

10 years ago, I was 14 years old and in boarding school. If someone had told me at the time that my role model, someone I desire to emulate to the uttermost, would be a gay, white man, I would have possibly smiled and told him/her to try again. Now I do not state those characteristics as a matter of prejudice, far from it. Rather I state them to highlight a stark contrast between what my reality was then and what it is now, thanks to this man who goes by the name Jacob Mendez whom I met during my undergraduate studies in Kansas. For context, at the age of 14, I was in my native country Nigeria. In Nigeria, the rights of people from the LGBTQ+ community are practically non-existent mainly due to deep-seated cultural and religious biases. As a matter of fact, anyone who claims to be an open member of this community and is caught by law enforcement is promptly sentenced to 14 years in prison – no questions asked. The community is so frowned upon that it is usually used in derogatory comments to other people as a way of creating further aversion. Thus, growing up in this setting, I had never met or interacted with anyone from this community and, to my great disappointment, never questioned why the laws were so harsh or what made heterosexuals any better than the LGBTQ+ community. Thankfully, in 2014, I met Jacob who was my supervisor while I was working as a Resident Assistant at school and he has been a mainstay and steady hand in my life. The things that Jacob has done for me and taught me have completely changed my mentality and serve as a resistant barrier to any form of senseless prejudice. So, without further ado, let me tell you about Jacob. One of the classic traits of Jacob is his over-and-beyond kindness. One example that will always be indelible in my mind has to do with his intervention when I was almost deported during my undergraduate studies. On Thursday, September 10, 2015, at around 4:30 pm, I was called to the Office of International Education at school and I was told that my passport was to expire on Monday, September 14, 2015, and that if I didn’t get it renewed by that date, they will begin “deportation procedures” in conjunction with the Department of Homeland Security. With such a bomb dropped on me and without offering any sort of help or advice, they dismissed me. I instantly broke down weeping because I didn’t know how to renew my passport, I didn’t know where to go and most critically I had only one business day to resolve the issue. Feeling absolutely dejected, I went into Jacob’s office and started to sob and vent. Jacob listened to me and, unknown to me, he was looking up places in the US where I could get it renewed. As I was still talking, Jacob stopped me, turned his computer towards me, and said, “Nkem, there are 3 places that you can renew your passport: Atlanta, New York, and Washington DC. Atlanta is a 13-hour drive from Kansas and it’s the closest. Go and get your passport, we leave in 15 minutes. Let me call a friend and ask my supervisor for the day off tomorrow”. I was over-shocked and took a moment to understand what was going on. Jacob was about to embark on an impromptu 13-hour journey for me just to ensure that I stayed in school. So, at around 5:45 pm, Jacob, his colleague, and I set off for Atlanta and I was able to get my passport renewed the next day. I’ve never witnessed a kinder act or a kinder heart and to this day, even as I write this essay, my eyes still well up with tears every time I think about it. Jacob taught me a lesson in kindness that I'll never forget and that I will always repay in my interactions with others. His kindness is a significant part of why I fight for the cause of the homeless in my home country and why I have strived to build homes that can shelter 60+ plus people who have been displaced due to terrorism. I owe it to him to strive to deserve his kindness and embody it. Another exemplary trait of Jacob is his understanding. Being my supervisor, Jacob had weekly meetings with me in which we would discuss everything from work to my personal life. I once told Jacob that the US culture was very different from the one I grew up with and that I was really struggling not to be tolerant but to make the final effort of being accepting of the LGBTQ+ community. This was significant for me because one of my colleagues was in the process of becoming a transsexual woman and I had no idea how to be supportive of her. What kind of person would I be if I couldn’t support my colleague in what was a very significant point in her life? I felt very vulnerable dealing with this issue but one thing I’ll always appreciate Jacob for is that he didn’t take my struggle as an affront to who he was when he most certainly could have. Instead, he helped me work through my feelings of confusion and confront my ignorance. To be clear, now that I know better, this might seem like a silly struggle. However, I’m grateful for the struggle and for Jacob’s impact because it helped me to better support one of my high school students who was in the process of coming out while I worked in Chile as an English teacher. While I struggled to be accepting, Jacob accepted my struggle. This is the tactic that I’m using on my dad who has held these intolerant views for 50+ years. A much tougher task but I’m not giving up. Jacob’s my inspiration and I’ll never forget him.

Volunteering in Chile was one of the hardest things I've done simply because I had no knowledge about the people or culture and zero proficiency in Spanish. I lived in a rural town called Villa Prat where horses were the primary mode of transportation and farming the primary occupation. This was a classic sink-or-swim experience because I had to balance adapting to my new environment with teaching English to my 300+ students who, like me, also had zero proficiency in English. Nevertheless, by embracing my community and employing creative methods of teaching through games, I was successful in doing both.

I’m a citizen of a terrorist-ravaged country filled with fear and disorder, particularly in the North-Eastern part of Nigeria. A direct effect of this fear is that many of my fellow citizens flee their home states to find refuge in mine, with few amenities provided for them. Take housing. The displaced people used banners and sticks to house themselves - materials that are unstable, vulnerable to harsh weather conditions, and incapable of guarding against deadly insects. This was no way for people to live. In response to the situation, I met with an architect and we founded a project to improve the housing issue - Zing Spaces. Leaning on each other's strengths, I handled the financial and communications aspects while she handled the building and logistics facets of the project. With the approval of the territory leader, we built the first house. I was elated and eager to do more! But unbeknownst to me, the joy I felt was in stark contrast to the displeasure that the inhabitants of the camp felt. So much so that in under a week of its construction, they brought the house down... literally. I found this action difficult to accept because it appeared that our efforts and funds had been wasted. Nevertheless, I persevered. To find out how we had failed, I led a brainstorming session with the inhabitants of the camp and listened to their complaints. It was through this avenue that I recognized my fault. The inhabitants explained to me that the government usually sent officials to inspect the territories and send feedback concerning the need for further aid or not. Thus, such an "extravagant-looking" house would suggest that they were no longer in need of the government's help, which wasn’t the case. I empathized with their perspective and decided to start over. I consulted with them over the next houses that we would build. After coming to an agreement, we’ve been able to build 10 (and counting) houses that can accommodate 6 people each, to the satisfaction of the inhabitants thankfully! This experience taught me many things. First, I learned that just because I’m rendering a service to others doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t have a say in the decision-making process and execution. The mistake I made was that I assumed that the perspective of the community leader was representative of the inhabitants’ views. Without communication, the inhabitants felt excluded from the project and they let me know the hard way. I also learned that being empathetic goes a long way in restoring relationships and dealing with conflict. To be honest, I was very offended and disappointed that the first house was torn down. Nevertheless, anger wouldn’t have gotten me or the project anywhere. Instead, by listening to their complaints and including them, I understood how they felt and I made sure that they approved of the subsequent houses that would be built. These are lessons that I wouldn’t have learned had I not initially failed and I’m thankful for that.