THE BIRTH OF MY PASSION

Since I was a young girl, I hated to see people sad or in tears. I recall this one time when something missed from our house, I can’t quite remember what it was. My father, who always insisted on strong values like honesty and openness, demanded to know who took the item. We were four of us; my two brothers, my cousin who lived with us then and myself. Our baby brother was too young to be involved in the whole saga. Repeatedly my dad asked, “WHO TOOK IT?” After several attempts with no one owning up he opted for King Solomon’s wisdom; ‘cane us in turns until we own up’. He also clarified the order in which his plan was to be executed; ‘five strokes each to start with’, ‘oldest first and the youngest last’. If my cousin was not with us then I would have been the first to receive my portion. No sooner had my dad positioned himself well for the task than our tears started flowing freely. Silently so because if you cried loudly that meant an additional stroke on top of the five. No amount of pleading with my dad could soften his heart.

My cousin was done pretty fast with her five and she bravely bore the pain with no much drama. It was now my turn but unlike my cousin I couldn’t take mine without drama, never mind that it was of little help.  Soon I was done; I looked back at my brothers who were waiting on the line. When their teary red eyes locked mine, I couldn’t take it anymore and right there and then I knew I needed to do something.  I requested my dad to stop since I have something to say. He stopped and furiously looked at me waiting to hear what I had to say. “I DID IT DAD”, I said incoherently. This only added fuel to his anger and he wondered aloud why I did not confess earlier. I just stood there like a zombie still nursing my pain from the just received strokes. After all I had nothing to say because I just confessed to something that I never did. I was ready to take another stroke but for whatever reason my dad abandoned his mission right there and then. I guess some divine voice must have told him, I was innocent.

I wish to stop the story there since that part alone suffices for my message. I have taken the bullet for others many times in my life but this particular one stood out. Way later in life I came to realize that these incidences marked the birth of my mentoring passion. First let me make it clear that it is my responsibility as a mentor to challenge my mentee to take responsibility for their own mistakes, meaning as a mentor I should not do what I did for my brothers. Having said that, however, it is my responsibility to walk my mentee out of the tears and to make sure that they do not go back to the same path that caused them those tears in the first place. I will have failed terribly as a mentor if I stood and watch my mentee suffer only for me to say, ‘they deserve it’ or cite the old adage, ‘experience is the best teacher’

To fuel this mentoring passion I invested in mentoring skills and I must say that this is one of the best decisions I have ever made. Having passion for something is one thing and having the knowledge or the skills to do it is another, YOU NEED BOTH.

‘It is the ultimate luxury to combine passion and contribution. It’s also a very clear path to happiness’ Sheryl Sandberg

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Mary Kamore is the Lead Consultant M_OliveS Mentors