As a MyMozaic member you will be able to recruit thousands of talented high school and college students to attend your school or apply for an open job position at your company.
Education History
• School in Ethiopia Grades K-8
• Grace Academy Grades 9-10
• Charlotte Christian School Grades 11-12
Awards
• Academic Honor Roll
Additional Info
When I was 10 years old I did the hardest thing a boy of my age could do: I left home. Not like the prodigal son who gathered up all of his riches and left to waste them on a lavish life, but the kind who gave up everything familiar and traveled by himself to nowhere expecting nothing. I got the idea at school one day. I decided that living on the streets would be better than living with my abusive dad and stepmom in the countryside of Ethiopia, so that day when I came home for lunch, I took the money that was hidden in my dad’s drawer, grabbed my backpack, and climbed into the back of a big red cargo truck. I had no idea where I was going; I just knew I had to leave.
Ten hours later after a long and bumpy ride we arrived in the city of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. I snuck out of the back of the truck and looked around at my new home. It was pouring down rain. The dark alleys were crowded with so many people. Small shacks lined both sides of streets. Some people were walking hand in hand; others were slumped on the ground huddled together under tan cloth tarps to keep dry. Children were begging. Cars were honking. “I guess this is my new life,” I sighed. All I could think about from that moment on was that I had to survive. That was all that mattered. Things were not easy. Everyday felt like a mountain that I had to climb.
But I never gave up. To make it through each day, young innocent me had to beg for leftovers from restaurants or dig through scraps in trash dumpsters. When night came I had to sleep on the concrete sidewalk next to the road in front of a store with no blanket - only a dirty sack and my dirty and torn apart clothes. Sometimes life on the streets was okay though. Friends stuck together like family. We spent hours playing soccer with hand-made soccer balls made from rolled up plastic bags and old socks. Missionaries would come and find us sponsors who helped provide money for food and school. Times like that I saw a glimmer a hope.
But for the most part, survival was the only thing that was plugged into my brain, and as time went on seeing good in the world got harder and harder. I never thought there would be hope for the hopeless. I never imagined that I would one day be adopted at the age of 14 by a family in America. I never pictured that I would be living the life I am living right now with a family who loves me. In an instant, my whole life had changed.
My childhood now seems a million miles a
