The Queen's Commonwealth Essay Competition Results!

By Naserian Ferguson.

Earlier this year I had the opportunity to enter the Queen's Commonwealth Essay Competition — or QCEC — for the third time. I entered the competition in 2022 and 2023, and was thrilled to receive a bronze and silver certificate.

The QCEC dates back to 1883, making it "the world's oldest international writing competition for schools", according to Royal Commonwealth Society. Each year they choose a winner and a runner-up, and give out gold, silver, bronze, and participation certificates. Students from commonwealth countries all over the world can participate, and this year brought in over 53,000 entries. The theme for this year's competition was about journeys, and the prompt I chose was to retell a folktale from a commonwealth country. I submitted my essay back in May, and just the other day I got the results.

I am so excited to have been able to participate in the competition, and I wanted to share that I received a gold certificate this year!

The QCEC Certificate!

Here is my essay, titled The Gazelle and the Broom.

"Asani sat on the mountainous pile of dirt and trash that he called his home. His brow

furrowed in thought as the black puffs of smoke wafted from his pipe. A sandy colored chicken squawked and bobbed its head up and down, pecking the ground for red millet seeds. Asani ran his hand over his brow, as if to rub away the years of rebellion and idleness he had nurtured in his youth that had led to—this. Begging for scraps, digging around in the dirt for loose grains of millet like a chicken. He hated it. He had always thought that someday he would get his act together. Someday things would work out. But they didn’t. And then he had to labor for every meal, just to make it through another day, just enough to keep his wizened, skeletal body alive. A thought drifted to his mind like the smoke he indulged in. With his wrinkled, aging hand he dug in his pocket, and fished out a single coin. It was cold and smooth, and worth ten cents. He played with it while he thought. He could use it for anything. Food that would last him for days, new clothes or shoes, or more tobacco.

Then he heard a sound coming towards the village. Bells fluttered and chimed in noisy

choir, and he curiously lifted himself off the ground to see what the commotion was. A man was leading a small herd of gazelles to sell. They were small and dainty creatures, each one bearing a silver bell around its neck. They walked contentedly, following the man without any display of stubbornness. Asani walked over to the man, lifting his eyes far above his own height to meet the gaze of the dignified shepherd. The man was taller than anyone he had seen in his own village. He carried a long walking staff and bore a striking red cloak that draped over his shoulder. His ankles, arms, and neck bore bracelets and necklaces made of colorful beads. He wore a belt that held in place a rungu, a wooden weapon with a stick-like handle that ended with a round, hard lump. The man’s gaze was steady and calm, and although the noise of the jewelry and the gazelles was loud, nothing about them screamed for attention.

Asani swallowed, and asked, “How much does one gazelle cost?” A woman that was

walking by carrying a full yellow jerrycan scoffed. “My friend! You must surely be mad. Even if you had any money to spare, why would you not spend it on food or lodging? Why would you waste it on a pet?” Asani glared at her.

'One gazelle is 12 cents,' the man said.

'I only have 10 cents.'

The man nodded without speaking and knelt down to untie a gazelle. Asani fished in his

pocket to retrieve the coin and dropped it onto the outstretched palm of the man. The man

nodded his head in thanks and handed over the leash of rope. Asani, still dazed, squatted back over the dirt and tied the gazelle to a post. The realization of his foolish whim was now starting to dawn on him.

'What use are you to me?' He asked the creature in a scathing tone.

'If you listen, I will tell you,' the gazelle answered in a shrill, child -like voice. Asani blinked

and wondered if he was going insane like his neighbors said.

'My name is Keejeepaa. The Maasai moran who sold me to you did not tell you my real value. I am a talking gazelle, and if you care for me, I will help you,' the gazelle explained.

'How can you help me?' Asani asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

'I will give you good advice. You are a beggar now, because you did not want to work in your

youth.' Asani’s jaw clenched, and he glared at the gazelle who had revealed his greatest fault.

'Now,' Keejeepaa continued, 'I can help you. You must go ask the man who owns that duka if

he will pay you a few cents to sweep.'

Asani burst out laughing. 'Why would I go and toil away for a few cents? My time is not

worth so little reward.'

The gazelle gazed at him, then spoke. 'Then I will go and do it for a while. You will see

how it is helpful.'

So over the next few weeks Keejeepaa trotted out from the dust pile to go work at odd

jobs. And every night it brought back a few simple cents, careful to bury them under the ground lest the man find and squander them. Ever so often Keejeepaa went to the duka to buy rice, bananas, and samosas for the man to eat. And Asani’s stomach was filled with more food than it had been in decades.

One day Keejeepaa announced, 'Now that you are full and strong, you must see how I

have helped you. Now you can also work, and we can save up for a house for you to live in.'

Asani’s face stiffened. He grew angry at this demand from a pet, but he couldn’t argue with

Keejeepaa’s logic. 'Fine,' he spat, 'I’ll work. But you will keep working too.' The gazelle

nodded slowly, his eyes understanding more than he said.

~

One month later, Keejeepaa could not find Asani at the dust pile. He trotted around,

searching for his owner, but was not able to find him. Keejeepaa grew suspicious and dug up the pit where the money was kept. But the pit was empty. Asani stumbled over to the dust pile, staggering with every step. He collapsed on the dirt, reeking of alcohol. Keejeepa bleated

angrily. 'What have you done with the money?'

Asani was livid. 'Who are you to tell me what to do with my own money?' he roared. He

kicked the gazelle to the ground, beating it in his drunken fury.

Keejeepaa lifted himself off the ground in shaky, weak movements. 'You have

squandered all our money. I will not help you anymore. You will never see me again.'

Asani rolled his eyes in disgust and fell asleep. When he woke, his head pounded, and the sun stung his eyes. Disoriented, the world spun. But even in that spinning world, he did not see Keejeepaa. All throughout the day he searched for the gazelle, but it was nowhere to be found. The neighbors all thought he was mad; some pitied him, and others held him in contempt.

Late in the evening, Asani’s stomach ached and growled from hunger. Maybe Keejeepaa

was right, he thought miserably. And as he pondered the last few weeks, he decided what to do.

~

The next morning began with the echoing crow of the rooster, and the bleating goats of

his neighbors. The dusky, hazy morning sun had just barely risen above the silky black horizon, slowly seeping creamy yellow light into the sky. Asani rose. He shook off the dust from his clothes and splashed water on his sleepy face. He tied his sandals onto his feet and headed out.

'Habari za asubuhi,' he said as he stepped into the duka. The owner paused what he

was doing and looked at him with wide, wondering eyes. 'I came here to ask, sir, if I could work for you,' he said, feeling strangely shy. The owner’s wife, holding an empty yellow jerrycan, smiled warmly at him. The owner of the shop looked over questioningly at his wife, who explained everything he needed to know with her eyes, then grinned back at Asani. 'Of course, my friend,' he said in a cheerful voice. He gestured over to the broom, made of long straw bound together on a wooden stick. 'Would you mind sweeping?'"

*This story is based off the Tanzanian folktale "Haamdaanee" from Jamilla Okubo's "Tales of East Africa".

Royal Commonwealth Society, "About the QCEC": https://www.royalcwsociety.org/about-the-competition.