Personal Essay

                                 Starry Night in Sierra Leone

A “moron”. That’s how a student described Vincent Van Gogh.

           Last winter vocation, I went to Sierra Leone, the poorest country on the Earth. Sierra Leone is located at West Africa, near Ivory Coast (Côte d'Ivoire). Unlike African countries in Ivory Coast, who are comparatively rich due to its abundant natural resources and tourist attractions, Sierra Leone has nothing but the blood diamond. What motivated me to go to Sierra Leone first was not the humanitarian affection, rather, it was curiosity. I had been to North America when I was young, but I have never been to Africa nor have I ever even thought of going to Africa. Thus, for me, Africa was the land of adventure. Illusions of Safaris and infinite land horizon attracted me like an invitation from the Wonderland. Still, numerous television shows and news articles about its despair, brutality, and famish alerted me. Yet, going to Africa, especially Sierra Leone, for volunteering was once-in-a-lifetime experience that I could hardly get another chance. Then, I decided my mind to go to Africa, a gigantic land filled with hope and misery, with 7 other people (6 KMLA students and one parent as a guardian).

           On the first day of arrival, after more than 24 hours of flying, I saw the television screen. I saw what those television shows were broadcasting: not well paved road, people (including youngsters) selling stuff (mostly food) on the road, buildings made of mud, and black people with worn clothes. Those were the first things that I saw. Soon after, I found out that the country neither have waterworks nor power plants. Growing up in the country with optic LAN installed in every part of the country, this country seemed to live the world 50 years slower than rest of the world.

           On the next day morning, we headed to Korean Protestant Missionary (KPM) secondary school to do our volunteering. Before we came to Sierra Leone, the principal of the school had asked us to teach them art and music classes because student of this school do not have those classes in their regular schedule. Thus, we had prepared to teach students introduction to famous artists, drawing class, introduction to famous musicians, recorder lesson, and a lecture about Korea’s development from 1960s to now.

           A funny thing about the classes was that in a class of grade 8, there are students from fifteen to near twenty. This was due to the test students have to take every year to move up to the next grade. Students in this country are really busy. They have to help housework and help commerce. Even the school closes after 1 p.m. because students have to go. As a result, many students have no time to study, which then leads to failure to pass the test.

           We had originally planned to visit middle-school students only; however, because high school students had asked us to give a lesson to them too, we changed our plan and went to high school classes on the last day. Unlike secondary school students, their sight was sharp and the atmosphere was studious. I was to give the introduction to artist. It was in the first class that the “situation” happened. I was introducing Vincent Van Gogh to the class. I told them that Van Gogh killed himself after long despair of being unknown artist. This was not a problem. However, as I told them that his younger brother had supported him economically, so that Van Gogh could continue his career, one of the students showed a little grievance.

           He said “I have brothers and sisters. I work hard and study hard to support and to be able to support them. I never thought my life is pathetic though. Or had I ever considered about committing suicide. That person, Mr. Van Gogh, he’s a moron. He was just too weak to endure his own agony.”

           At the moment, I was paralyzed. Vincent Van Gogh was my favorite artist whom I liked from very young age. Whenever I had art works to do, the first thing I considered was parody of his work. Trying to portrait the essence of The Starry Night or Cafe Terrace at Night, I sympathized with his feelings. I understood his agony. Nevertheless, after hearing the student’s words, my world broke down. What I had believed all seemed like a fake. I did not understand Van Gogh; rather, it was pretence full of arrogance. I was just a copy-cat imitating what other prominent people said, never giving out my own opinion.

           Then, there came the second thought: there is a hope in this country. Youngsters of this country are working hard. Before, I could only see poor people that we have to help, but after, I saw equally hard-working people who are trying to develop their country, like our grandparents have done. At the moment, I took a glimpse of the students in the class. Their eyes were all shining like a diamond.

           After the day ended, I could not go to sleep easily. Hence, I went outside, to watch the sky. The sky of Africa was full of stars; the number that I have never seen or will see in South Korea. At last, my thoughts got adjusted. Africa was not a land of desperation. Instead, it was the land of hope, not yet pioneered.