Aisha's Telegram
On a brisk October day in 1963, Aisha Akinola received a telegram at her job at the headquarters of the International Committee of the Red Cross. The telegram stated: "The Nobel Committee of the Norwegian Parliament has awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for 1963 to the International Committee of the Red Cross and the League of Red Cross Societies with a half to each." Akinola, the office manager took a deep breath. This was a moment for celebration, but not a moment to divert attention from the work being done that day. She made a brief announcement on the public address system of the office: "Co-workers, I have some happy news to share. The International Committee of the Red Cross has been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for 1963. Let's all take a 20 minute break to celebrate, but please resume your day's work after that. The people whose lives we are saving are counting on us. They do not have the privilege to be able to celebrate."
As the words left Aisha Akinola's mouth, a ripple of excitement spread across the office. Staff members exchanged smiles, murmured congratulations, and slowly rose from their desks. A few clapped, while others, driven by their focus on the day's work, nodded in acknowledgment before returning to their papers. It wasn't just a victory for the organization but for every individual who had tirelessly dedicated their lives to humanitarian efforts.
Aisha, ever composed and diligent, watched the scene unfold from her spot at the front desk. The telegram sat neatly folded in her hand, a symbol of recognition for the work that had become her life's mission. She glanced out the window, where the grey skies of Geneva mirrored the serious nature of their work. It was a rare moment of joy, but Aisha couldn't let herself linger in it for too long.
"Twenty minutes," she whispered to herself, pushing back her chair and walking toward the small break room. It was a modest space, furnished with a single coffee pot and a few chairs. She poured herself a cup of black coffee and leaned against the wall, allowing her thoughts to drift back to how she had ended up here.
Aisha had joined the Red Cross eight years earlier, driven by a passion to make a difference in the world. Born in Lagos, she had witnessed firsthand the effects of conflict, disease, and poverty. She knew that if she wanted to contribute to the solution, she needed to be part of an organization that acted on a global scale. Her role as office manager might have seemed small to others, but Aisha knew better. Every piece of paper filed, every letter typed, every logistical detail smoothed out—these were the tasks that kept the wheels turning, allowing aid workers to do their jobs on the front lines.
As she stood there, lost in thought, her colleague and closest friend, Simone, walked into the room. Simone had joined the Red Cross the same year as Aisha and was one of the few people who understood the deep sense of responsibility Aisha carried with her every day.
"A Nobel Prize," Simone said, her French accent thick with emotion. "Can you believe it?"
Aisha smiled softly. "It's an honor, but it's not for us. It's for the people we help."
Simone nodded, understanding her friend's sentiment. "Still, it's good to recognize the work that's been done. Sometimes, we need moments like this to remind us why we keep going."
Aisha took a sip of her coffee and looked over at Simone. "You're right. But there's so much more to do. Every time we make progress, something new arises. A new conflict. A new disaster."
Simone tilted her head, a look of concern in her eyes. "You don't have to carry all of that on your shoulders, you know."
Aisha sighed. "I know, but I can't help it. There are so many people depending on us, Simone. People like my family back home."
Before their conversation could continue, the clock on the wall chimed. The twenty minutes were up.
"Well," Aisha said, straightening her blouse and draining the last of her coffee. "Back to work."
Simone gave her a quick hug before they both returned to their desks. The atmosphere in the office had shifted slightly; there was a renewed sense of purpose in the air, as if the recognition from the Nobel Committee had reignited a quiet determination in each staff member.
Aisha sat down and reopened the file she had been working on before the telegram arrived. It was a case regarding displaced families in East Africa, people who had been forced from their homes due to drought and political unrest. The situation was dire, and the Red Cross was coordinating with local agencies to provide emergency relief. Aisha's role was to ensure that the paperwork and logistical planning went smoothly—something she took immense pride in, knowing how much hung in the balance.
As she typed away, her mind wandered to the future. The Nobel Peace Prize was a remarkable achievement, but she knew it wasn't the end of the road. In the years to come, there would be more challenges, more lives to save, and more moments of both heartbreak and hope.
And in each of those moments, Aisha Akinola would be there, doing her part—quietly, efficiently, and with unwavering dedication.
She glanced one last time at the folded telegram on her desk, a symbol not of an ending, but of the ongoing work that stretched before her. Then, with a small smile, she got back to work.
Aisha, ever composed and diligent, watched the scene unfold from her spot at the front desk. The telegram sat neatly folded in her hand, a symbol of recognition for the work that had become her life's mission. She glanced out the window, where the grey skies of Geneva mirrored the serious nature of their work. It was a rare moment of joy, but Aisha couldn't let herself linger in it for too long.
"Twenty minutes," she whispered to herself, pushing back her chair and walking toward the small break room. It was a modest space, furnished with a single coffee pot and a few chairs. She poured herself a cup of black coffee and leaned against the wall, allowing her thoughts to drift back to how she had ended up here.
Aisha had joined the Red Cross eight years earlier, driven by a passion to make a difference in the world. Born in Lagos, she had witnessed firsthand the effects of conflict, disease, and poverty. She knew that if she wanted to contribute to the solution, she needed to be part of an organization that acted on a global scale. Her role as office manager might have seemed small to others, but Aisha knew better. Every piece of paper filed, every letter typed, every logistical detail smoothed out—these were the tasks that kept the wheels turning, allowing aid workers to do their jobs on the front lines.
As she stood there, lost in thought, her colleague and closest friend, Simone, walked into the room. Simone had joined the Red Cross the same year as Aisha and was one of the few people who understood the deep sense of responsibility Aisha carried with her every day.
"A Nobel Prize," Simone said, her French accent thick with emotion. "Can you believe it?"
Aisha smiled softly. "It's an honor, but it's not for us. It's for the people we help."
Simone nodded, understanding her friend's sentiment. "Still, it's good to recognize the work that's been done. Sometimes, we need moments like this to remind us why we keep going."
Aisha took a sip of her coffee and looked over at Simone. "You're right. But there's so much more to do. Every time we make progress, something new arises. A new conflict. A new disaster."
Simone tilted her head, a look of concern in her eyes. "You don't have to carry all of that on your shoulders, you know."
Aisha sighed. "I know, but I can't help it. There are so many people depending on us, Simone. People like my family back home."
Before their conversation could continue, the clock on the wall chimed. The twenty minutes were up.
"Well," Aisha said, straightening her blouse and draining the last of her coffee. "Back to work."
Simone gave her a quick hug before they both returned to their desks. The atmosphere in the office had shifted slightly; there was a renewed sense of purpose in the air, as if the recognition from the Nobel Committee had reignited a quiet determination in each staff member.
Aisha sat down and reopened the file she had been working on before the telegram arrived. It was a case regarding displaced families in East Africa, people who had been forced from their homes due to drought and political unrest. The situation was dire, and the Red Cross was coordinating with local agencies to provide emergency relief. Aisha's role was to ensure that the paperwork and logistical planning went smoothly—something she took immense pride in, knowing how much hung in the balance.
As she typed away, her mind wandered to the future. The Nobel Peace Prize was a remarkable achievement, but she knew it wasn't the end of the road. In the years to come, there would be more challenges, more lives to save, and more moments of both heartbreak and hope.
And in each of those moments, Aisha Akinola would be there, doing her part—quietly, efficiently, and with unwavering dedication.
She glanced one last time at the folded telegram on her desk, a symbol not of an ending, but of the ongoing work that stretched before her. Then, with a small smile, she got back to work.
(This fictional story is an imagination of what might have happened when the International Committee of the Red Cross won the Nobel Peace Prize in October, 1963. This story has been donated to the public domain and may freely redistributed in print or digital form.)
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He/Him/His
"Wisdom begins with wonder." - Socrates
"Learning happens thru gentleness."
"Wisdom begins with wonder." - Socrates
"Learning happens thru gentleness."
"We must reinvent a future free of blinders so that we can choose from real options." David Suzuki
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