By Jodie Tsih of Colby College
Remember when you were a child and an adult would pull a coin out of your ear? You might have been just in absolute awe with curiosity as to how they did that. You would demand an answer and of course they would say something like “a magician never reveals their secrets” so you would be left to ruminate over how a coin came out of your own ear, wondering how it got there in the first place, and how they managed to sneak it right under your nose. As you grew older, you saw them do it to other little kids, and the magic disappeared when you realized the coin was in their hand the entire time, merely an illusion. Then you started to question other things and all the wondrous curiosities of life disintegrated piece by piece, leaving you with a bleak-colored world that once used to be bright and vivid. You stopped asking questions, because you knew the answer would only disappoint and exacerbate the dark cloud that was starting to envelop your worldview.
I thought that I knew how the world worked, that everything in life is a transaction and people are inherently selfish creatures who only do things if they can get something in return. I had lost my sense of childlike wonder, I no longer wanted to know more because I feared the possibility of underwhelming explanations that would only discourage me further. As my consciousness grew with each year, I realized that curiosity really does kill the cat, and the suffering my parents tried hard to shield me from, so that I had a fighting chance, was only increasing exponentially. I felt hopeless that I was just a tiny speck in the grand scheme of the universe, that the most terrifying thing about the universe was not that it is hostile, but that it is indifferent. How was I expected to deal with the terrors of the world knowing that it was only going to get worse?
Then I came to Botswana, and met a group of 10 amazing, caring individuals from different walks of life. I watched them share everything- time, love, care, without expecting anything in return. There was childlike wonder in each animal sighting, when the first thing you’d want to do is share it with your peers and as the excitement crept onto their face you’d feel the corners of your mouth slowly turn up in anticipation.
Riding in the bed of a truck on a not-structurally sound bench and giggling with each bounce that would send you at least 5cm up in the air, it was in that moment when I felt just like a little girl, I felt giddy like I had before for the first time in a long time.
Little by little, my childlike wonder was being restored. I craved to know more about the environment around us, about the people around me; how they thought and why they thought like that. I was no longer afraid of disappointing answers because I had learned that every answer, underwhelming or not, had wisdom to impart even if not glaringly obvious at first glance.
Watching a pride of lions cuddle under a bluebush, seeing a beautiful male lion walk 1 meter from the car, spending a night at Skybeds (a structure in the middle of the bush that is three floors tall and right across a watering hole which is visited by herds of elephants, giraffes, impalas, zebras, blacked backed jackals, etc.), giggling over absolutely nothing with my girlies, group naps on the floor when the air is hot and it is a 0 on the Beaufort scale. I was experiencing the innocent wonder of childhood and cherishing each drop.
I wish I could distil the sweetness of the past month into this post so that you could feel the joys of childlike wonder as I have, and experience the lightness that comes with it. The constant chase for enlightenment is perhaps confused for humanity’s yearn to experience the world like children do- carefree and sillily. Perhaps if you join a round river program you too, may be delightfully surprised to see your childlike wonder waiting patiently for you right where you left it.