Senior Portfolio: Personal Essay
By: Mickey Veach
I remember standing on that high hill in the middle of nowhere Nebraska in the dead of the night. Over twenty of us huddled together in the tall grass that swayed at the mercy of the wind. I remember vividly seeing off in the distance a tiny light penetrating the darkness, and two of us were required to approach it. I was one of them. A large man in a tribal outfit stood tall like he owned half the world, the tongues of the torch in his hand billowed against the wind. Next to him was a woman whose face was covered, and she looked down in shame. She had been caught in adultery, the man explained, and her punishment would be death. Of course there was a catch: her life may be spared if one of us descended into the nearby vulture’s pit and decipher the riddle within. At that moment, I was ready to volunteer, my eagerness betraying my posture.
Or course I will do it.
Why wouldn’t I?
This girl needs our help.
Whatever it takes.
But it was not to be. The tribal man who seemed to carry so much authority would be the one to pick who went inside the den. The rest of the group approached, and he made his decision. Asia, a young girl who was much more humble, who had no desire to enter the den. The reluctant hero. No room tonight for the ambitious. I contemplated hard why I wanted to be chosen. Was it for altruistic reasons? Or was I driven by more conceited reasons? I knew myself enough to know it wasn’t the former.
Always gotta be the hero, don’t ya?
We watched as Asia descended into the den with nothing but a glow stick to light her way. Of course she wasn’t in any real danger. This was a simulation. One that projected the struggles of missionaries in third world countries. Regardless, the anxiety was real for her and real for us.
The three days we spent living in that Nebraska pasture passed by as slowly as a bleeding soldier crawling through the gravel. Our morale dwindled like a leaking bottle of fresh water. We pushed through many trials; some were spiritually rewarding. Others left us lying in the dirt in defeat. For me, all of this can be summarized through the deterioration of my left foot. I had made the most wise decision to wear sandals that week, sandals that weren’t kind on my flat feet. It started off as a small pressure point.
That pressure point opened into a cut.
The foot swelled.
Eventually I was bleeding puss.
But that’s okay; we had one last trial to conquer. Then we could go home. Back to a warm motel with comforting food and a hot shower. I hadn’t eaten in three days save for some raw rice. Rice that I had been sharing with the flies.
One afternoon of overly complicated challenges later, we were ready to go home. I was in a position where I “won” but the rest of my teammates would have to stay an extra night. This seemed reasonable, I was borderline crippled and the others were worried. They weren’t going to take no for an answer. That was when the leader of the simulation pulled me aside and gave me a choice: we could move along as planned or I can stay an extra night alone and give everyone else a ticket back to the motels.
This is what sacrifice looks like.
I could almost hear that audibly in my head. That’s when I knew what I had to do. The guy with the infected foot needed to stick around for an extra night so everyone could go home safely. I think it was the foot thing that made it so emotional for everyone. I remember shedding tears. Because of the system of things, three of us stayed, but we weren’t allowed to be near each other. I laid myself under a tree and slowly let sleep take me. The next time I woke, it was night, and the stars were the only companions I had. I knew then that there is no bravado behind true sacrifice. I was lying in a pasture with a useless foot with no food and barely any water, and yet I felt a peace I hadn’t ever experienced. This should have been a nightmare of a night, given my physical state; maybe it had something to do with my body lacking real sleep in three days, but to this day, I look back and know that was one of the best sleeps of my life.
Mickey Veach graduated from IWU with a Bachelor's degree in writing. He is what one would call a sweaty nerd, spending 90% of his time watching and fantasizing about Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and Marvel movies, while spending the other 10% wondering what his life is gonna look like beyond college.
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