"Uncle, just because orphans speak their minds, does that mean we are always wrong?" she questioned. "We may not have parents, but we understand life. We know how to survive, how to stand on our own feet. In your homes, your children are protected, sheltered by their families. Do you think they can compete with us in independence?"
Her words carried the weight of experience, of struggles unknown to those who had the comfort of a family to fall back on.
"For every little thing, they seek their parents' approval," she continued. "But we—" she paused, her eyes shining with determination, "—we are free. Free to think, free to express, free to make our own decisions without waiting for someone else to guide us. Yes, we are orphans, but that does not make us useless."
The crowd listened in silence, absorbing the intensity in her words.
"I am still a student," she said, softening her tone, "but I already have a plan for my future."
A kind-faced man stepped forward, his voice curious. "Are you a scholarship student?"
"Yes, Uncle," she nodded. "But I don't want to depend entirely on that. I'm planning to take up a part-time job to support myself. That way, I can manage my own expenses without burdening anyone else. Soon, I will start searching for work that fits my study schedule."
A few heads nodded in approval. The elderly man who had first spoken to her smiled warmly.
"That's a very responsible decision," he said. "If you ever need help, don't hesitate to reach out. There are elders like us who are willing to support hardworking children like you."
Her lips curled into a grateful smile. "Thank you, Uncle. I'll keep that in mind."
As the conversation settled, the people around her regarded her with newfound respect. She may have been young, but her resilience and wisdom were beyond her years. And in that moment, she had made them see orphans not as helpless children, but as individuals who carried the strength and walked forward with unwavering determination.