I have something I need you to understand.
My childhood was built on a bed of concrete, looming blocks of flats and a canal full of waste. When it rained, the bins overflowed and my sisters and I would run outside and play with the objects washed up in the gutters. Plastic bottles became mountains, empty boxes were vessels ferrying our toys away from the flood while greying leaves and old crisp packets were transformed into dresses and skirts.
I longed for peace; away from the noise and bustle of the city. I dreamed about rivers stretching further than I could chase them, trees tall and wide with drooping branches, endless green. I yearned to learn how to preserve the green spaces in my community, which were becoming a steady sacrifice to yoga studios and apartment blocks.
Arriving to study in Sussex, I felt I had got it all wrong. Instead of a bucolic view of the South Downs from my window, I was facing ‘West Slope’, the newest building site on campus, whose drilling and droning sliced through the birdsong each morning. The buildings where learning is fostered squatted in the valley, concrete backs pressed against the trees as if to deny their impact on the habitat in which they reside. When classes began, ChatGPT reigned queen: rivers drained for perfect essays. The heart of nature had been emptied.
I felt encased, yet again, in a hubbub decorated with litter and smog. That was before I began to walk and found a haven of the purest sights, smells and sounds. You opened yourself up to be adored and I was a willing worshiper. You lay beyond the concrete, sweeping across the Downs for acres, a shelter for all. You were alive, humming with diversity, resilience etched into each trunk and stem. Beneath you, lay Stanmer village, to which I became a regular visitor. The village held beacons of hope. Organisations like ‘Brighton Permaculture Trust’, ‘Stanmer Organics’ and ‘Future Roots’ taught me ecology, how to cultivate orchards and nurture woodlands, while raising awareness of the long shadows our actions cast.
I began to notice how small my University was compared to the world around it. Especially compared to you. You are so much bigger than me, yet my actions dictate your future. What injustice.
I want you to understand that I always try to do my best. I have a bike instead of a bus pass, I spend my summers volunteering with an environmental community*, no food is wasted in my household and I travel by train, boat and bike, not plane. I know how small I am in comparison to you, yet I know the significance my actions have for you. I will continue learning when I am away and I will come back better, with eyes opened wider. An opportunity to find new organisations, with different policies and priorities. New ideas to employ when I’m back.
I will never stop supporting you, because you never stop supporting me.
