I think I got hit by a freight train today. Maybe not. But for whatever reason, I feel like an unmotivated bastard, sulking in my little corner with every little thing around me driving me to the brink of insanity. Life is usually a pretty decent bed of roses for me... I have a job, I have a car, I live in a beautiful country, my family and friends are safe and sound... no real reason to be unhappy. But fickle is the mind, and fickle is the game it plays on its host. It makes one feel like the world is about to end... when in reality, one ought to be thankful for everything.
I think of little Nkosi when I feel that way. Everyone has heroes. Plato looked up to Socrates, Tendulkar no doubt looked up to Sir Donald George Bradman. Little Nkosi Johnson is one of my heroes. While I was out there living a relatively comfortable life, this 'half the size of bloody nothing' little 11 year old changed the world for me. His message to the 13th International AIDS conference was a simple one and a powerful one. Help us. That little boy made Thabo Mbeki walk out while he was speaking.
How did he change my world? He showed me problems of far greater significance than my own little ones. In the grand scheme of things, this little boy went through so much in life by age 11. He lost a mum and sibling, met a father he never had, lived with HIV and AIDS, wore a suit and spoke to the world, made the President of South Africa walk out... That little fellow made me re-examine my world.
Life may throw a lemon my way every so often but I have been spared the large, sour nasty ones. Life isn't always that nice to others. Little Nkosi passed on in June of 2001; he was finally consumed by a little virus about 110 nanometres in size that lived with him all his life. He never got to grow up. He did leave a powerful message behind as a legacy. He is a South African after all... where else can we get a Sisulu, a Verwoerd, a Mandela and a Jonty Rhodes?
I actually feel a lot better after writing about him. Thank god for Nkosi Johnson. Someday, I hope his wishes come true. I shall stop complaining now.
I think of little Nkosi when I feel that way. Everyone has heroes. Plato looked up to Socrates, Tendulkar no doubt looked up to Sir Donald George Bradman. Little Nkosi Johnson is one of my heroes. While I was out there living a relatively comfortable life, this 'half the size of bloody nothing' little 11 year old changed the world for me. His message to the 13th International AIDS conference was a simple one and a powerful one. Help us. That little boy made Thabo Mbeki walk out while he was speaking.
How did he change my world? He showed me problems of far greater significance than my own little ones. In the grand scheme of things, this little boy went through so much in life by age 11. He lost a mum and sibling, met a father he never had, lived with HIV and AIDS, wore a suit and spoke to the world, made the President of South Africa walk out... That little fellow made me re-examine my world.
Life may throw a lemon my way every so often but I have been spared the large, sour nasty ones. Life isn't always that nice to others. Little Nkosi passed on in June of 2001; he was finally consumed by a little virus about 110 nanometres in size that lived with him all his life. He never got to grow up. He did leave a powerful message behind as a legacy. He is a South African after all... where else can we get a Sisulu, a Verwoerd, a Mandela and a Jonty Rhodes?
I actually feel a lot better after writing about him. Thank god for Nkosi Johnson. Someday, I hope his wishes come true. I shall stop complaining now.
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