Good afternoon. My name is Elliott Rosswood. During this press conference, I will be telling you all what inspired me to write my first book, Care and Concern.
When I was eight years old, my mother ran away from home, leaving my father, my then 3 month old sister, Julia, and me alone. On top of that, she slammed my father for being a bad producer and thus, my father lost his popularity and could no longer keep his job. My mother then started her own recording business, signing record deals with the most popular singers. My father then had to quit his job as a producer to take on a more flexible job, as a teacher. Whenever he had to travel, he always brought us with him. Life was hard. My sister and I had to cope with life without motherly love and my father had to struggle as a single parent.
When I was eighteen, my father had finally saved enough to take us out on a cruise trip to celebrate me getting a scholarship at Granger’s University, one of the most prestigious universities in my home country.
On the first night of the trip, all went wrong. Rogue waves struck the ship and made a hole in the ship’s hull. An evacuation took place. As Julia, Dad and I were not fast runners, we were among the last left onboard. And because we were among the last, the only remaining lifeboat could only take Julia and I, among others who had already gotten on the lifeboat. As such, my father was left on the ship, where he perished.
On the lifeboat, Julia and I fell asleep. As such, I think we were thrown offboard as the next thing I knew, I was lying on the beach, just before dawn, hearing the slosh of the waves against the beach and my sister screaming for me to wake up.
Because we were on our own, Julia and I had to forage for food in the forest further inland.
We found a few fruits that was enough to last us for the time being and as we were about to leave, I spotted what looked like a native tribal man. I wanted to approach the man and attempt to ask for some place to stay. But when Julia and I got to where the tribal man was, he had gone.
Julia and I turned around to get a huge shock. A whole bunch of tribal men holding sharp spears were peering at us as if they had never seen anything like us before. When we took a step back, they took a step forward. We took a few quicker steps backward and our backs hit a tree. The tribal men then started touching our faces and prodding at our arms. Julia and I then offered our fruits to them, hoping that they would not scare us even more and that they understood we came in peace. The tribal men understood us and brought us to their village.
There, we were given a meal of vegetables, rice and something that tasted like chicken.
For the next few days, despite the language barrier, the tribal men, Julia and I were able to communicate through sign language.
After a few months of living there, Julia and I had learnt how to speak their language. By then, we had also integrated into their culture very well. I thought about my father whom I would never see anymore every night but life at the village took away my grief. It felt like Julia and I had finally gotten a complete family, but with many fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers. I was still Julia’s caretaker, though.
Four years later, or in other words, one year ago, Julia, a friend and I were walking along the beach when we saw a ship. It stopped about five hundred metres away from the island. The captain then rowed a dinghy towards us. He then asked us what had happened and we explained. He then offered to send us back to Canada. As Julia wanted to go back home, I had to follow as I am her older brother.
I was grateful to be back at home, but I missed the family I had at the island in the middle of nowhere. As my father had our house keys, I had to replace the locks. I had become the owner of our house.
Then, one day, our mother came and knocked on what once used to be my father’s door. She had come with the press to ‘collect’ Julia. She claimed that she loved her the most so she should have the right to take Julia home. I then reminded her about the hardship she had put Julia, my father and me through.
My mother could no longer do anything. The press had been recording live what she and I had said.
My mother was so infamous that she closed down her recording company. Besides, who would want to keep themselves in the limelight when one of their worst crimes had been disclosed? I know I may sound a little harsh talking about this but that’s what inspired me to write my book.
What struck me is how the various families in the village treated everyone like their own family, unlike how we are, in the cities. Here, we are all so self-centred. We only think of our own families, or in my mother’s case, herself. What about those poor people out there who don’t have only one meal a day? What about those orphans out there fending for themselves? What about the children who know either one or both of their parents ran away from them? I am sure we can show a little more care and concern to one another like how my family from the middle of nowhere treated Julia and I.

Thank you.

Kwene

April 12, 2011 at 9:00 PM PDT

Good work. Some suggestions: you might want to dramatize the father perishing part...how you feel. Losing the only real parent must be quite traumatic.

Emadev

April 12, 2011 at 7:26 AM PDT

Judges in the Essay Competition, read this, read this!! I thought this is a brilliant piece of work. It is a very creative to write this essay in the form of a press conference. As in most essay competition, there is a maximum limit to the words so I guess you were constrained by that. Are we going to hear more from/about Elliot and his book? Great job!!