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Tag: Life Stories

  • Story 12 – My Stepfather’s Mistake

    Story 12 – My Stepfather’s Mistake

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    My stepfather as at the time I grew up to know him is a man of God who serves God day and night. He is a very gentle and well-behaved man. Until one day, my mother told me he had a woeful past that he is still suffering from the consequences. He was nurtured and raised up by his aunt in the paternal side.

    His biological parents involved in a fatal accident that led to their death. He was just at a tender age with his older sister who was only two years older. His aunt, Mrs. Olunloyo Grace, had no children but she was married. So, she took her cousins as her own children. His aunt was a rich woman and she spoilt the children with her wealth. Then, he was just a ready homemade spoilt child growing up in one of the old streets in Ibadan. He related to bad friends who are nothing but goons and he was influenced by their bad attitudes. He started leaving the house without informing anyone about his whereabouts. He took alcoholic drinks every minute of his life. Of course, cigarettes became his favorite diet; he arrives home very late in the night. He had no respect for anyone and nobody could talk to him to change his ways. His youth life was very awful but to him he was living his life to the fullest.

    During his early twenties, he got back home drunk one day. It was very late at night. Moving unconsciously, he went straight to the housemaid’s room and raped her. She refused to tell her boss with the fear of probably being chased out. Aftermath, what was kept as secret became known to everyone when the housemaid began to show the symptoms of pregnancy.

    By then she confessed and Niyi did not deny. Later, his aunt concluded that she would accept the baby but would not allow him to marry her. Why had she said this? She knew the kind of lady the housemaid was. If two wrongs cannot make a right, definitely, two bad companions cannot bring forth a good result. On the other hand, Niyi refused and insisted on marrying the housemaid. He married the lady and both of them were being taken good care of by his aunt.

    He had no specific job, he was asked to further his education but he refused. All of a sudden, he turned a new leaf but his wife made him know peace. It was by this time he married my mother who had to keep a distance from him because his first wife had started acting like a witch. She even trained her children to hate their father.. life became more difficult for him when the aunt died. Now, he is seriously ill with diabetes. He cannot walk and hardly eat. The first wife doesn’t allow anyone to take good care of him and she herself is not taking good care of him. He had made a mistake which he is now regretting.

    Lesson Learned

    I have learned that the kind of wife I have determines how I will live the rest of my life. Behind every successful man is a woman and behind every unsuccessful man is also a woman.

    About The Writer

    Adebisi Babatunde Ademola is an actor and a math amateur. He is also an aspiring Mathematics Educationist in the Premier University of Ibadan.

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  • The Lesson of Hardship

    The Lesson of Hardship

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    ’’Hardships and difficult situations in our life serve us and are meant for us to find happiness through them.’’ – my fraternal grandfather used to tell me in my childhood.

    I love my body. I truly consider it perfect, as it is. Its “imperfection” makes my body perfect. It is such a good feeling to move the way I want- freely. My body has taught me so much. It has taught me willpower, persistence, and belief in myself. I have experienced the world, its invisible, and visible aspects in a unique way.

    New year – new life. On the 2nd of January, 1979, I made a decision in my mother’s womb that it was time to leave my mother’s safe nest and experience the real world so the birthing process started. My mother was taken to the hospital, where it turned out that her doctor was not on duty. Therefore, another doctor on duty was asked to help my mother give birth, however that doctor resisted. He gave tranquilizers to my mum, despite the fact that I was already in the birth tunnel, where I was stuck, due to the tranquilizers. As we were in the middle of the process, the doctor saw that he could not intervene and he could not make this process slow so, after a while, he gave another injection to my mum which would accelerate the birthing process. After I could get out of the birth tunnel, the doctors sensed that there was something wrong with me, since the color of my face was blue. I was immediately taken to another hospital, which was equipped with incubators and it turned out that I had swallowed water in the womb and had gotten pneumonia. I stayed in an incubator for one month.

    Despite the fact, that my parents took me to regular check-ups, during which several, different doctors kept telling them that everything was fine with my motoric skills, when I was 6 months old, my parents revealed that there was some motor deficiencies with developmental coordination disorder on my right side. At that time doctors working in Hungary were not familiar with disabilities and they did not know how to deal with this condition, as they were not trained on the different types of disabilities. Therefore, my parents took me to a Children Hospital specialized in children with motoric skills disorder where the doctors diagnosed my hemiparesis on my right side. My parents took me to special physiotherapies, and I was 2 and a half years old when I gained outpatient admission to the International Pető András Institute headquartered in Budapest dedicated for special education for the physically-impaired people where I attended the special education sessions (physiotherapy) three times a week for 16 years. Besides the International Pető András Institute, my parents took me to swim, to another type of special physical education, to acupuncture, special physiotherapies, massage and from the age of 4, also speech therapy, as I had a lisp.

    At that time, in the ‘80s and ‘90s, the majority of disabled people were segregated in the Hungarian society, they had their special institutions where they studied, they could be hardly seen onboard the buses, trams or metrocars. Wheelchair users were not able to use buses, at all, as no dedicated space was designated for their wheelchairs on public transport vehicles. Disabled people were invisible in the society. Despite the situation, my parents decided that I should attend the integrated nursery school, kintergarden, primary school and high school, however at that time it was extremely rare. Only a tiny percent of disabled persons attended integrated schools.

    In the ‘80s and ‘90s, neither children, nor teachers were prepared for how to treat these “special” children. At that time in Hungary, this topic was even not on the table, as most of the physically- visually-hearing-impaired children were taught in segregated schools. My very first memory I remember about in my childhood is that I was sitting in the integrated nursery school, watching howmy mates were playing. I was out of that circle. Except for some of my supporting teachers, most of the teachers did not believe in my accomplishments and results since they thought that I was also mentally-challenged, despite the fact that I was not; they kept telling me and my parents that I would achieve nothing in life. They kept telling my parents that I would not be able to walk, talk, read, would not be able to learn and have a degree. Several of my mates in kintergarden and school made fun of me and bullied me and they kept staring at me. Only some of my kintergarden and primary-high school mates had disabled relatives so they knew this condition, hence they accepted me. It is interesting to mention that after one of my teachers told my parents that I would not be able to read, my parents decided to have a special tutor for me who would teach me how to read at age 7. After two months, I did read and won the First Prize on a reading contest held at my primary school. Since I was a diligent pupil, I enjoyed participating in different school contests. I was a pretty good student and my willpower led me on the way. I had pretty good grades in school and even won an IQ test.

    In my high school, in the ‘90s, my headmistress kept telling my parents and me that I would not be able to finish high school, let alone have the school leaving exam or attend a university. She created this opinion based on my physical, and definitely not based on my mental, condition and she did not want to believe her eyes that I had good grades even in high school.

    Attitudes in schools and at home were very controversial. I was raised in a very warm, accepting, helping family. Both my parents and grandparents and my brother encouraged and helped me. They have always said that I have more capabilities and competencies compared to what the teachers kept telling us.

    As I already mentioned, I had a lisp and speech disorder due to my disability on my right side. I was seven years old when the American cable channels entered the Hungarian media market. I was surprised to learn that the Americans pronounced words the same way, as I pronounced the Hungarian words (which was considered a speech disorder in the Hungarian language) and I thought that the reason why I pronounced the Hungarian letters the way the Americans pronounce their words is that I am truly American so I asked my father to teach me my “real mother tongue”. I fell in love with English immediately. I started to dedicate my time, my energy more and more to English, besides physiotherapies, swimming, acupuncture and speech therapy. I even attended an English language course and learning English contributed to the improvement of my pronunciation a lot.

    I was 20 years old, in 1999, when I went to London to immerse myself into British English and culture. That was the first time when I experienced in the British society that people outside of my family circle could treat disability in a positive, accepting, tolerant way. That was the time when the British people showed it to me that we can see the physical-impairment in a positive way and even tolerance and positive attitudes can be practised towards this condition and towards physically-impaired persons. They taught me that I am not less than the others; I am only different. It was a milestone and had so much impact on my life. By that time, I had a crush on the English language and identified myself with English. At that time my British experience just grew my attachment to English that much that I decided that I would dedicate my life to it. Since then I have gained two degrees in English: I acquired my first diploma on Teaching English as a second language and my second diploma on English translation in the field of social sciences and started to work in the fields of translation and international relations. I translate mainly technical documents and also texts that deal with success and psychology.

    Since then, I have been to the US (in 2006) where I dealt with American-Hungarian relations, I have been granted a scholarship to the European Commission- Directorate-General for Translation (in 2011) where I was translating internal documents, made interviews for the Ministry of Internal Affairs with US expats about their assimilation in Hungary, have translated EU tenders, written psychology-related articles and have participated in equal opportunities campaigns (between 2000 and 2010). Besides English, I study Spanish for which speech disorder is extremely beneficial. I can already be part of a community very easily, people accept me completely and they like the fact that I am very optimistic and cheerful.

    Since then my pronunciation has improved and is perfect and only my right hand is strained. Apart from my right hand, the movement of my whole right side is the same as that of my left side. I have attended Irish and Greek dance clubs, rock’n’roll courses, danced African dance and zumba, which improved my motoric coordination to a great extent. I enjoyed the African dance a lot, which developed my feminine side, as well. When I was dancing the African dance, I felt some deep attachment to my feminine power and body, some spiritual energy that helped me overcome the hardships.

    I had to learn how I can gain self-confidence and self-esteem in a society where disabled persons were either invisible or had to fight against many facets of discrimination. I had to learn how persistent I am, that my love for English, my ambitions, my willpower and my faith in myself are much stronger than people’s superficial opinions (judgements) about me. It was a long road that I had to take, which I had to go the extra mile. I had to find my inner power source.

    It was after Hungary’s entrance to the EU (2004) when situations and circumstances of people with special needs started to be discussed in Hungary, since also an EU regulation prescribes that equal opportunities must be ensured in every single field of life and also at organisations in every Member State, thus Member States must participate in equal opportunities this way or the other, buildings and stops must be accessible for disabled people and this topic must be discussed in social terms. Since then, disabled people or people with special needs are treated equally and supported in Hungary. During my university years (after the year 2000), I could sense that there was already some progress in the Hungarian society in this field and people have become open towards “special” people: I was given a mini tape recorder, with which I could take notes on the class more easily, while my visually-impaired classmate received a special laptop from the university. At that time there was a lady working at the university’s Human Resources department who dealt with students with special needs and we could turn to her in every way if we had some obstacle.

    My paralysis has been my biggest teacher: it has taught me that we can always develop, physically, mentally and spiritually. We must find all the potentials in our life, no matter what, believe in ourselves, and ignore what other people tell us about our capabilities. People can sense only snapshots from our life, they cannot see how persistent we can be, they cannot sense our willpower or potentials in the greater picture. My paralysis taught me that we should not judge people because we cannot know what is behind the surface.

    As far as I think, people with special needs are not disabled people because they can be worse at some field of life but they can be much better at another field. I am not good at math but I have special capabilities for languages, communication, human relations and I am very social sensitive. I am more sensitive to social issues and to different subcultures.

    Every person is different this way or the other. While one person is good at one field, the other person is good at some other field. People motivate and teach each other both consciously and unconsciously. As far as I think, it is extremely important to reveal what those potentials are that a disabled person is good at.

    In my case, my experience in London at age 20, the British people’s tolerant, accepting attitudes and my commitment to my “other mother tongue” led to my real profession and calling. To achieve this, I needed to experience the exclusion, my willpower, the British people’s tolerant attitudes, my inner potentials, love, the attitude-related, behavioural controversy between my family and the Hungarian society in this regard and my hard work done physically and spiritually because these are the reasons why I have become the person I am now.

    We must never ever give up. Every hardship and difficult situation in our life teaches us and develops new skills. Without my paralysis and the discrimination I experienced in Hungary and the positive attitudes towards the physically-impaired persons, I may have not chosen English and English translation. I love my profession, as I can truly dedicate my time, endeavour and energy to my part of self, which was found at the age of seven when the American cable channels entered the Hungarian media market.

    ’’Hardships and difficult situations in our life serve us and are meant for us to find happiness through them.’’ – my fraternal grandfather used to tell me in my childhood.

    Lesson learned

    My paralysis has been my biggest teacher: it has taught me that we can always develop, physically, mentally, and spiritually. We must find all the potentials in our life, no matter what, believe in ourselves, and ignore what other people tell us about our capabilities.

    People can sense only snapshots from our life, they cannot see how persistent we can be, they cannot sense our willpower or potentials in the greater picture. My paralysis taught me that we should not judge people because we cannot know what is behind the surface.

    About the Writer

    I am Ms. Melinda Mondovics, and I am an optimistic people person who is passionate about life. As far as I think, challenges in life are meant to develop through them and happy moments are to enjoy them. I love cooking, getting to know different cultures, reading, talking to friends, dancing, and traveling. Life is a present and we must get to know it to the fullest.

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  • Story 9 – His Father’s Namesake(Oyiri nna ya)

    Story 9 – His Father’s Namesake(Oyiri nna ya)

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    I know a man, whose name I wish not to mention. But whose story I have heard countless times and have wondered, “how did he make it?” To say that there is a man whose countenance roars from within him like a lion is but an understatement. His beginning was that of a bit of misfortune for his family. He was named after his father, an Igbo man would say “Oyiri nna ya”. It is said that on the day he was born, his father’s shop where he made solid income, burned to the ground. His goods and fame went along into the ashes, never to be heard of again. Oyiri nna ya began life with little food to his stomach as his mother did all she could to sustain herself and the newborn. He wasn’t the first, he wasn’t the second.

    He came as the third born, and he looked just like his mother’s father. What a surprise! Growing up wasn’t easy as other siblings came along and the need to select who would go to school began. “Oyiri nna ya, you have to wait for some time for your older ones to go to school.” Years went by and the story changed “Oyiri nna ya, your younger ones are already progressing and you need to take care of them”. Ha! When would he start schooling himself? He decided he was going to take a step and leave the comfort of his home, in search of education and some sense to have as a grown man.

    By that time it was obvious that he was one of the eldest in class. He had begun to stay with an uncle, whose wife did not extend the kind of motherly affection to him. Yet he endured. The soup she would cook would be the soup of several days which he and some other young chaps would eat – it was never the fresh soup. He became used to her pattern and was blessed with a younger relative who loved him as her own child. To him, this was comfort and a way to learn all he could about life. When he started to go to Secondary school, this special aunty was there to encourage him to save up money for his WAEC.

    Even while in school, he struggled to read and understand as his Primary school days were nothing to write home about. He saw he was deteriorating, and wouldn’t be able to amount to anything in life. So he had to change his thinking pattern. Before, while in class, he would sit at the very back with all the other bench warmers who couldn’t care less about learning. Then one-day Oyiri nna ya said to himself, that he too could become like one of those girls who took the First position in the class. He made a bold step one fateful day to sit at the very front of the class so he could pay attention.

    The entire strata of students were so disorganized by this new arrangement that another guy took the bold step of moving to the front seat! And so, friendship like no other began. Seriousness began. He was even liked and admired by most teachers, trusted even to handle financial contributions by his peers. Oyiri nna ya became a pacesetter. Something, he never thought he could do had he not had encouragement at home and within himself.

    Fast forward to the end of his Secondary school days and he needed money to register for his WAEC. Of course, senior aunty and uncle refused to help him even after seven years of living with them. It was at this point that he left the home he had known for years with nothing to call his own but the savings he managed to raise with his aunty. Rather than him going home feeling dejected, he bought gifts for the children around his uncle’s home and shared with them. They were overjoyed and prayed for him, even going the extra mile to escort him as far as they could. His hopes grew and he completed his Jamb.

    He made a single prayer and said something like this “Oh Lord, Abia State University is my first choice. If I do not get it, then I am done with school”. He applied and when admission lists began to roll out, lo and behold he made it! What a surprise to his family! He had finally made it! He would shuffle from his hometown to school after performing some menial jobs with the help of his mother who gave foodstuff for school. Never did he miss his exams.

    And in the year 20…yeah! He bagged his certificate! Looking back at his journey he would tell me, Ngee I really suffered in life. And I would tell him congratulations, you are indeed a victor. You just cannot give up in life when God has not thrown in the towel. Where there is life, there is hope. Only but begin, take a step even if it is one done with trembling. Believe and the universe will respond to your actions. Oyiri nna ya is an example of a victor.

    Lessons Learned

    Don’t let what others have determined about your future be the final say. Play that ball! And make sure you score in life’s net of “no’s and you can’t”. It only takes determination and a brave heart to soar.

    About The Writer

    Ngozichi Atasie is a Mass Communication major at the Abia State University, Uturu.

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  • Story 7 – Positive Mindset

    Story 7 – Positive Mindset

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    I was just a child when I was told that nobody could ever make it in my family, that we are born poor. I was also told that in the history of my family poverty is in our linage but as a young girl with a vision, I decided to take a step forward.

    My classmates mock and make fun of me even to the extent of clapping for me. My mom will say to me, Blessing I have told you that we are poor, don’t hang with the rich. With tears running down I said to my mom, I was born poor but I refuse to be poor forever.

    That was how our destiny was changed. The situation you are in is not the end of your life. People may be telling you today that nothing good comes, from your family, that’s poverty is in your blood you are born with it so live with it is an error, overcoming the challenge is one of the elements of positive thinking and a positive mindset. Don’t allow the condition of your family to affect your life and purpose in life, you overcoming the challenges is basically the key thing. You must be focused to reach your destination.

    My mom made me feel limited, but I remained focused. Do you know why? Because I had a dream that was the change in the condition of my family member. In school, my teacher loved me because I was very smart and funny too but I had no friends.

    My classmates don’t like me, the reason being that I was poor and nothing good could come out from my family… But I think keeps me going that I will make it in life the fact that my mom and dad were poor does not make me poor except I decided to remain poor. I must break the limit, I must be strong, put God first in all I do.

    You are the master of your own destiny, don’t allow others to be the judge of your life, me being hopeful that one day I will make it in life is a positive mindset on getting your goal you must be smart and also have self-confident believe in yourself and don’t be a disconnect with your vision a master of your own destiny don’t allow people take advantage of your stay focus listing to people who are older than you in age because they know more than you.

    Your ability to take action in the fulfillment of your destiny. You are smart, don’t look down on yourself. You are beautiful just the way you are. Have a positive response to things happening around you, see it’s as a step forward to your destination and mind the way you think. Always say positive things to yourself, always believe that you can do it. Don’t limit yourself… You are the master of your own destiny always have that at the back of your mind. Believe in yourself.

    Lessons Learned

    Being focus is very important regardless of the situation…or condition life gives.

    About The Writer

    Iberike blessing is a student from Nigeria.

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  • Story 5: Love Yourself

    Story 5: Love Yourself

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    I was born on the 25th of the eight-month, I’m the only child of my parents. Writing this would be the first time of me expressing my self to the extreme. I grew up all alone with my parents. My parents were the busy type, my dad was never at home, same with my mum, but she still made out time for me.

    In school, I wasn’t a fast learner l, my teachers would beat me for not learning fast. During weekends and holidays, my mum would keep me at her friend’s place and I would impose my self on and throw myself at other kids. At age seven, this is always a means for me to have company. At times my parents would allow me to stay over at my childhood friend’s place, during the holidays she would take me to my uncle’s place.

    At age 12 I got singled out as the weird one for the first time. It’s not like people didn’t talk to me, it’s just that they didn’t let me in, and some times I feel I didn’t fit in. I wasn’t friends with anyone, even if someone did come close, it was always one-sided. They were able to share and I wasn’t and that was about it. I often felt like I was alone like I didn’t matter like I wasn’t important… I was very lonely because I felt left out all the time and I have no one to talk to about my feelings.

    When I got to senior secondary school, I had friends which I include in most things but they never include me in anything, this made me feel so left out. Same as when I finished secondary school, I had loads of friends but none was my close friend. I got through a large portion of my life like that. Unsurprisingly. I also went through depression for the first time during these years.

    After secondary school, I attended a jamb lesson, I became exposed to a whole lot of things and I understand that what I had been going through were depression and social isolation. I didn’t like the crowd, then I would leave the crowd to a quiet place just to stay alone. My phone became my best friend, music, and earpiece, my companion.

    My friends would always ask why I’m always alone. I got tired of the questions, so I had to put my self out there, I didn’t really know how to do it. The only thing I could do was to type of goggle to see if I can get an answer. I would type things like this…( how to make friends, how to be happy and other kinds of stuff).

    A woman on Instagram with the name @officialebonylips, most people might know her. She acts all weird but I must say she really changed my mindset. I told her how it has been for me for the past years. We video call, it was like a four to five hours conversation, after telling her all, I felt incredibly light after. That day she told me something that is most relevant here, she said, “ you are there for people, you listen to them. You smile and joke around, why then do you think anyone will turn away if you opened up?”.

    To be honest, I don’t know the answer even now, but I can speculate. It’s not like the people around me, my family and friends are not there for me, but for some reason, I assume they are not, for some reasons, I think I feel like my burden is too personal to let anyone help.

    The truth of the matter is that all these are B.S. There is actually nothing wrong with reaching out to someone and taking their help when you need it. Sometimes I had bad times, I stay alone, I know there are a lot of people in my life who care about me, but I feel like there isn’t anyone sometimes. Those moments I just close my eyes and take a deep breath and tell that annoying voice to shut up.

    Lesson Learned

    You are not alone, you are amazing and lovable, so give yourself the consent to be loved by those around you, loving your self is hard but important and when you do, you’ll realize how much that loneliness was you and not your surrounding.

    About the writer:

    Ekekwe Blessing is a History and International Relations student at the University of Abia State, Nigeria.

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  • Story 2: Obsessed With Skinny

    Story 2: Obsessed With Skinny

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    “It’s easier said than done” didn’t occur to her when she had listed a couple of things she’d like to achieve before the year would end. Racheal would wake up in the morning each day of her life-switching characters. It was only because she let herself drown in her imagination. A session’s break, Racheal felt it in her she had to be a lot. I would know five languages, I’d be a programmer too and create a spell bee game and oh! oh! I’ll be a gymnast, oh no it’s too late I’m 16, then I’ll just be a flexible dancer. All these she had swimming in her head.

    Another day came, she had written all these things to note and made plans on how she’ll achieve them. She started immediately, waking every morning to exercises that would make her flexible enough to be a contemporary dancer. The first training was fun, the renaissance of when she was younger and aspirer to be a gymnast. She felt fulfilled The day kept riding, she went to her study was she sat and thought. It would be easier for her to start with French since she had a background.

    The urge to learn fast French and move on to Russian, Hindi, Swahili, and Japanese was at its peak. So she cluttered her plans with French studies so she could start a journey with another. The holiday seemed to be getting shorter for Rachel each day, days will pass by and she would be as exhausted as someone who had an assembly line job. She knew she was getting somewhere. All the tasks that Rachel was facing were invisible to her father. Rachel did want it that way, her father would ask her what she wanted to occupy her the holiday. She was glad to the heart whenever he asked, so she always said programming, computer programming. Her father agreed. A week before she had herself to program, she was touched and felt the need to include reading novels into her daily routine. So she did. The week came to start her programming lessons, ever since she’d wake up in the morning sober because of the days to come.

    A day was spent from bed to painful stretching, to house chores, learning French for at least an hour, reading a novel, sorting homework from lessons, going out to lessons, and coming back to sort problems she couldn’t handle during lessons. A month and a half had gone, she still wasn’t close to being picturesquely flexible. As per her dancing, she knew she just couldn’t. Why? She failed in a dance routine she felt was Margarita Mamun worthy. She had told her brother a few weeks back to cover the dance routine, when she watched it she felt irritated and saddened about the fact that her moves were cheap, too poor to match dancers who failed on TV. She imagined herself performing so beautifully but it dawned on her that however she tried, she couldn’t. She wasn’t willing to give up so easily, so she sought for a photoshoot of some moves instead of a video.

    This time she thought it will be Sofie Dossie worthy. The ones her brother shot demured, she didn’t like them. She saw how ugly she looked, and how taut she was in the photo as compared to many others who made flawlessly effortless moves and shot them. She cried. Her daily routine still went on the same, she was tired of the lessons. She couldn’t create her own code to solve a problem, all she did was memorize already created codes to solve them. A month was left for the holiday she realized she couldn’t. She felt it was inane, she wasted her father’s money and her time all because of her greediness for dreams. She gave up on the programming. It was time for French in her routine, she felt progress though one can call her learning progressively slow. After an hour she leaned on the couch to break, she hadn’t watched TV in some time. She scrolled through channels, then she saw one which all they displayed were models on runways with flashy weird looking clothes.

    The clothes didn’t intrigue her all that did was their bony eminences. She envied their frames immediately, that’s were her obsession submerged. She developed an anorexic habit. Three weeks before school, she decided to shoot by herself some moves. She edited them and felt pleased though it was bland. She thought so because they weren’t as rare. Everyone has seen someone split, it’s almost like all slim people can do it. But she was proud because in the future she could tell someone what she was able to do. After the shoot she removed the exercises from her routine, she felt relieved. Rachel sat in the study as it was another frustrating lesson, she had been sitting for hours trying to get a code. Brief suggestions of how to start making money caressed her thoughts.

    So she stopped her work for a while and thought of award money from excellent academic work. Money from there wasn’t certain, so she thought of being a writer. Days later she discovered screenwriting and started with a script ‘Do as I Died’. Her progress with the novels was evident, she was reading her third novel. Though she knew she didn’t read them anymore for fun but all to achieve reading three novels during the holiday. She was happy but it wasn’t fun for her anymore.

    Her goals weren’t fun anymore only stressful. Her love for a model’s body grew as well as for screenwriting though she had a blurry vision of how her first script would turn out. The screenwriting was moving on as she loved, she was glad and grateful to have a new passion. The discovery of a screenwriting competition made her jitter. She was optimistic about it, she wanted to meet deadlines too.

    She thought the entry was free. The holiday was over, back to school she was. Two months passed and she was almost done with the script, she finished two days before due time. She was happy and eager to submit. She went to the site to do so, only to discover the entry was not free. She had the money, but she would starve if she used it. It saddened her that if her script was worthy enough she would have starved herself, but she knew it wasn’t, it was her first. The editing wasn’t even to standard, she rushed to conclude the story. What pained her most was she knew the bragability of being a screenwriter so she flaunted what she hadn’t been.

    She decided to start all over, learn more. She wasn’t willing to let it go that’s when she realized how passionate she was about it. She was regaining herself, but she had not the idea of how she was losing her skinniness. When she left school for home, she knew. It didn’t mind her, body frames didn’t mind her. All she wanted to achieve at home now was to read because she hadn’t written her exams yet. Social media came to play in her life, minute influences from school too.

    On Instagram, she would see pretty skinned ladies with curvy bodies. All that came to her mind then was curves, curves, and curves. She desired a curvy body, every woman’s dream, she tried. A week of no progress discouraged her, she went back to skinny desires. When she resumed for school the following year, she made herself manage her body. She really loved to eat, she was watchful enough to maintain her weight but she couldn’t lose it. The outbreak of a virus made her return home before due time. Rachel became more obsessed with skinny. She promised herself the holiday to be skinny, not only that but to learn French, read as much as she could. It was no doubt her obsession with skinny was more. Her weight goal was forty-four kg, she reduced her meals.

    Exercises were added to her daily routine, her envy for skinny girls grew more. Whenever she ate she felt guilty, she avoided something she loved most, food. Rachel stalked models on Instagram and would envy their skinny bodies. She was so determined to be skinny but it was killing her. Sometimes she overate and her weight would be back to original. Whenever she starved she would feel so proud. All she now desired was skinny. One day she stepped on her scale, disappointment was all over her atmosphere. So she made her self a challenge, she gave herself seven days to be on forty four kg.

    She was ready to starve. On the first day of the challenge she fasted, when it was time to eat, she overate. Then it came to her that she wouldn’t lose weight. Everything was vanity piled with futility. Days came and went, days when she cried her self to sleep, days when she starved and her stomach would grumble in pain. Tears that streaked her face as she cried weren’t because she didn’t see change, but she hadn’t herself one achievement. So many dreams but not one came by to visit in reality.

    The seven-day challenge she tasked herself was over. She was too sad to realize she’d been starving. Every time she ate the food she congruently ate guilt. Guilt that she would gain weight. Her obsession was prime. She gave up. The challenge was over and she didn’t feel different. The body she saw in the mirror was a mirage, what she thought was what she saw. Rachel had got lean over the seven days, the bone skinny she was obsessed with was her but she had not known.

    Rachel’s body was now a sequitur of how she felt. One morning she mounted her scale, she was forty-three kg, at first she felt her eyes weren’t frank with her. She called her brother, he confirmed what she saw. She became idyllic, for once she felt she owned the world. Ever since then, she watched models without envy but it’s typical Rachel to develop obsessions. Only time would tell. One can say that a tiny bit of urges created for Rachel an unconscienced success story.

    Lesson learned:

    To have a success story means to have dreams, dreams are abstract. It’s up to one to realise them.

    About the Writer:

    Sola M.W. is a young Nigerian and an aspiring screenwriter.

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  • Story 4 – Could I Be To Blame?

    Story 4 – Could I Be To Blame?

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    I’ve been following up with a guy on social media for months without him noticing me. It was on a Wednesday, 20th April 2017 when he buzzed me. I was so surprised and eager to reply, so we got to talk and know each other better. We hooked up, not once, not twice. I liked this guy a lot, maybe because I never get the kind of attention he gave me.

    We often met at his friend’s house and most times I just can’t hold back my admiration for him. Most times I went home dripping in my pants, I’m not a fan of touching myself so I just sleep it off and wait to see him again. On the 6th of July 2017. He invited me over to his house. I got funny advice from my friend to learn to be seductive with my dressings, so I went with a short gown. I got to his apartment, he offered me a soft drink and meat pie. Then he sat close to me, touched my thigh, I turned and looked at him, he smiled at me and drew close to kiss me. It was deep and sensitive. I wanted more of that and as he pleased my envy, he became more touchy, and gave me a look ‘if it was cool with me’.

    I wanted more added to his touch. I left that day fulfilled, I had gotten what I wanted to. It always played back, he was so good. I turned it to an almost everyday thing. I meet him every time I had a chance to. I don’t know who thinks sex keeps a man, but it was what I thought, so I saw someone I like, I went for it. A couple of months went and I’d found out I’ve missed my period, I didn’t want to tell him so I kept it for a little longer.

    Three months went, I saw signs of pregnancy, it then dawned on me that I was pregnant. I had to tell him. I met him at the mall, even in this situation I was dripping once again in my panties. I told him after we talked about his business trips and all that. He looked me straight in the eyes and said: “Rose, I’m not ready for a child yet”. I know he’s not ready but what would do you have me do, I am four months gone. I couldn’t yell but I need us to talk. I’m just a student, soon enough my parents will find out. I expected more from him, but he said he’d see me the next day, and that was how we ended the conversation.

    Immediately he left, I called my friend, she agreed to meet up so I waited. It wasn’t long when Jessica got to the mall, I was in tears, she was someone I told everything. I wanted to get the burden of having a child. I knew someone who’d do it cheaply, so I had Jessica join me at the clinic. The doctor there told me it was difficult for a four-month-old, he added: “ If you want me to continue it will hurt a lot”.

    I signed up for an abortion for the first time in my life, Jessica was there with the comforting words so I was okay to do this. It wasn’t long, we were done. I was hurting a lot more than he explained it would. The pains were not just from the termination, my heart spoke in volumes. My body couldn’t carry a much greater burden. Nonetheless, I had Jessica see me home and tell my mum that I was suffering from menstrual cramps. I know you wonder how she believed. She trusts me a lot to not let her down. But I did the opposite.

    He called, the next day, I told him what I had done already, he was very angry. He went on to say he wanted to let his family know first and come back to meet mine, I screwed it all up. I should have just waited, but I didn’t, I moved too fast. I was foolish enough to continue seeing him, after all, that happened, this was a fresh year so I was thinking he’d ask me to be his girlfriend because we got a lot serious. One day, I visited unannounced, I don’t usually do this but I did because I thought we are in a relationship already. I knocked and waited for his response but he didn’t respond so I knocked a little harder before I heard keys jiggle from the other end, he opened the door and I noticed something.

    He was not happy to see me, he unlocked the door and I came in, I could hear a lady’s voice coming from his sitting room, could be his sister so I calmed myself. This lady sat on the other couch chewing gum, in my favorite polo of him. I said hi and sat down. He came in to introduce me as his friend to his girlfriend. I was dumbfounded, speechless. It was hard for me, it felt like I’ve wasted my life with him, only to find out he loves someone that is not me, you are allowed to feel my pain and anger. I left grieving, this was a lot more to bare, here I was thinking he was mine, with all the things we’ve done and gone through. I just vowed not to ever cross path with him again. He called a couple of times to apologize, he kept saying he wanted to tell me about her and all that, but I was thought she was better at it than me, that was why he didn’t choose me. Love is the true key to anyone. With all that had happened, I moved on this time trying to find a partner.

    I took ill on the 30th of January, 2020. I had pneumonia, but before that, I went for check-up and was advised by my doctor to go through a series of tests to know about my blood type. I came back to him with all results and the first question he asked me was if I’ve heard of the rhesus factor, it was something new to me. He went on to explain the Rhesus factor is an inherited protein found on the surface of red blood cells. If your blood has the protein, you’re Rh-positive. If your blood lacks the protein, you’re Rh-negative. Now he said I’m O negative and if at any point I get pregnant and give birth I’d have to take an injection called Anti-D administration to aid me to take in for the next child.

    This was too much for me to take in as he went on to explain if the baby turns negative then there is a chance but if the baby is positive it is advised to use the injections. I left his office with hate in my heart because I remembered my actions a few years back. I took twins out, who was I going to tell, I needed to talk to someone, I called him and told him everything, he was only apologetic, it was his fault. I had just ruined my future by my own hands, who do I start that family I’ve always dreamed about?

    He called once in a while to check on me. How do you do that when you clearly choose someone over me and still put me in a big mess. I stopped replying his messages, I was done with everything I had for him, I’ll just pick myself up and look forward, he was never for me, I just let myself ruin me and I have me to be blamed.

    This is a lesson I learned the hard way that I am to be blamed for the decisions I make. And to be responsible for my actions. As young adults, we should also know everything concerning our health including blood type. Don’t make drastic decisions that will hurt others.

    About the Writer:

    Onyekaba Chidimma Amarachi is a young Igbo girl, residing in Abia state, Nigeria. Also a student of Abia state university from the discipline of History and International Relations. She enjoys writing, going out, and making new friends.

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  • Story 3: The Journey To My Goal

    Story 3: The Journey To My Goal

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    Growing up we all had that big dream that we hope to achieve, feeling like nothing can go wrong. We all had ambitions and choices of occupation we wanted in the future. Some of us even had the schools we wanted to attend charted out, the age we would begin our dream job, the age we would love the get married, all of it well planned out. But sometimes life just has a different plan waiting for us.

    Story 3: The Journey To My Goal

    My name is Ejiogu Stella Mmesoma, I am a Nigerian of the Igbo origin. I had big plans and dream of becoming a great lawyer, I didn’t exactly have a reason except for the part that I love the profession and admired those who were successful in it. I was always told that to become a successful lawyer I had to be diligent in my studies. Luckily I was quite intelligent so I did my best to put in hard work in order to be the best.

    This rule worked smoothly from my kindergarten to my senior secondary. I was known as one of the best students in my grade. I graduated from high school in 2017 at the age of 15 although I was going to turn 16 by December. I wrote my WAEC and Jamb and came out with good results. All that was left .was to write and pass my Post UTME in the school I wished to attend, the University of Lagos, Nigeria.

    I registered for the Post UTME and prepared so hard for the exam, but after a while, I was informed that to qualify for the examination I should be at 16 years old by October. Unfortunately, my birthday was December and they refused to make any exceptions. I was disappointed and sad but I had no other choice but to apply for another school where I wrote my Post Utme and passed. But as life would have it, the cutoff marks for the courses were released and I didn’t qualify to study Law. I had hoped for another course but I wasn’t given any. This resulted in me waiting for another year.

    When it was time for the next Jamb and Post UTME, after seeking advice from friends and family I applied for law again but this time the school was located in the East, Abia state university, somewhere I never thought I would school. I passed my jamb and Post UTME and this time I reached the cutoff mark to study law. But when the list of students who were admitted came out, my name wasn’t there. At this point, I was in shock and pain and I wondered if this was where my dream would crash.

    Either way, I made a decision to buy the supplementary form and changed my course to history and international relations. This was a tough decision because I completely despised history, I had no idea if I would do well in this field but it was closer to achieve my goal of becoming an international lawyer, or so I thought. After I applied for the course, I was offered admission a week after.

    Surprisingly, I found the course intriguing despite the fact I didn’t like history. I told myself I would do well in this course in order to reach my goal. After my first year of studying the course, my results were excellent but I lost morale to be an International lawyer when I was told that I could not specialize in international law using the international relations degree but only a law degree. The new information completely broke me, so much that I almost gave up on the course in order to study law. But I was encouraged by my family to complete the course and then study law, so I would be privileged to have two degrees.

    The advice given to me was wonderful but I would never have thought I would spend nine years in school. Nevertheless, I knew that both courses had their benefits, so I took their advice and I’m currently working hard to complete my current course with a high CGP and then study law.

    Lesson learned

    My lesson from this experience is in line with the saying that “when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.” I learnt to make the best out of life and out of every experience . Life comes with challenges and once we take control of those challenges, it won’t be so scary anymore.

    Make the best out of life, it may have its challenges but we should learn to see the good in it.

    About the writer:

    Ejiogu Stella is an International Relations Bachelor’s Degree student at Abia State University, Nigeria.

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  • Story 1: Better Late Than Never (My Education Journey)

    Story 1: Better Late Than Never (My Education Journey)

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    2009 was a year filled with excitement and great expectation. I was about to write JAMB Entrance Examination (The Joint Admissions and Matriculations Board) so I could qualify and gain admission into the University. I was very prepared for the JAMB test, so when the time came, I scored 225. I was very excited because the cut off mark for the University I was interested in was 180/200.

    I traveled to the East for my Post UTME (Post Unified Tertiary Matriculation Examination). I wrote the examination and got admission into the University, to study Public Administration. With great enthusiasm, I started going for lectures and when the time came for our first-semester examination, I prepared myself and wrote the exams with confidence. The results came out the next semester and I couldn’t find mine, so after making inquiries I found out that my result didn’t come out because my registration number was the same with someone in my department. I went to the School Administration to verify and rectify the issue. After rectifying it, I thought it was over and moved on with my academics.

    How time flies, before I knew it, I had written my final exams and project in 2013, I was so excited. However, my excitement was short-lived, when I was invited to the School Examination Malpractice Board. To my greatest surprise, they told me I was involved in examination malpractice and was caught by the exam supervisor. So, while my mates were doing their clearance and registering for National Youth Service Corps (NYSC), I was busy going to the Examination Malpractice Board to face the panel, which took about 5 months.

    At the end of the interrogation and investigation conducted by the Examination Malpractice Panel, it was discovered that the culprit for the allegation was a student in the mature student program, however, the student was in the same department as me. So I was told to proceed with my clearance and NYSC registration, where I found out that I couldn’t go for the NYSC program because my registration number was the same with some in a different faculty. I was devastated and very frustrated, at that moment my whole world came crashing down.

    Questions like “have I wasted all these years for nothing”, “God why me”, “What do I do next”. So I called my Mum and told her everything, She instantly broke down in tears, I could tell she was in so much pain. I was not from a very rich family were going to school again was an easy feat, so imagine my pain and confusion. I shared my problem with some people, they told me that the problem is not a big deal and can be solved if I can pay three hundred thousand Naira. I told my Mum and She was willing to raise up the money to pay, but I refused because there was no guarantee that such an illegal act won’t fail or come back to hurt me.

    I traveled home to meet my parents, my Dad asked me what I wanted to do next. I told him that I want to go back to school, He then told me, He has other kids to train in school. I was not discouraged for my mind was made up. I called my Aunt and pleaded with her to give me a lifetime loan by paying for my school fees, then I made a deal with my Dad to take care of my house rent, while I take care of everything else. Just like that, I traveled to the Benin Republic to apply for admission to study International Relations at a private University. I didn’t want to undergo JAMB again or ASUU Strike, because I didn’t want any unnecessary delays. I started my lectures soon after my application process. The lecture hall was very uncomfortable for me, because I was one of the oldest in my class, there were many students as young as 16 years in my class. However, I was not discouraged, I made this choice, so I must see it through.

    Around 2016, I received an invitation from my former school in Nigeria that I should come and collect my statement of result. So, I traveled back to the east to get the result, then traveled back to the Benin Republic to complete my program. In the year 2017, I was done with my final exams and project. I came out with a 2.1 Upper-Class Division in International Relations and completed my NYSC program in November 2018. I now hold 2 Bachelor’s Degree.

    I am presently working as an Administrator in Federal Capital Territory Administration. The lesson to be learnt here is “Never give up”, “It is better late than never”.

    Lesson Learned

    “Never Give Up”, “Better Late Than Never”.

    About the writer:

    My name is Ejiogu Emmanuel Mario, I am from Imo State, Nigeria. I am a graduate of International Relations at ECOTES University. My goal in life is to be a diplomat, an ambassador, a philanthropist, and an entrepreneur. I am a sketch artist, I love art and music.

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