Seasons of my Life

There is time for everything so says the holy writ and as I write, I have no choice than to agree with those wise words. Time has flown like birds in flight migrating to warmer climates during winter and the reality stares me in the face as I near the completion of my university education. Nostalgic you might call this feeling but do you really think I long for the days I struggled to gain admission into a university even if it was just to study “Yoruba engineering” or “toilet administration” and the rest of them all in a bid to “leave home”? (As if I would not graduate eventually). Rather, I dread the days that will come when I have to prove to friends and foes alike that I graduated with a good grade and when I have to “deliver” like “danfo-drivers” at the end of each working day. Not that I do not want to bring forth the dividends of my coveted university education; the dread comes from discovering suddenly that I am of age and that I am solely responsible for myself while loved ones will have to respect the choices I will make. The time when responsibility lies squarely on my shoulders, as loved ones expect that I join the throng of 9-6 workers everyday and hit the jackpot quickly because I had an education. The times when family members will regale me with tales of people who “made it” 6 months after graduation and who now live big in high-brow areas. However, some might not be even as lucky as I, because there will be additional pressure from parents to find Mr. or Miss perfect quick before the clock stops ticking altogether and so that they can carry their grandchildren before they pass on.

I have therefore decided to find solace in the one-year compulsory youth service and let my life be regulated by angry barks of soldiers shouting commands and terrifying people like me who have never had contact direct with one before, light-outs, parade marches, endurance treks, standing for hours in a place where the sun decides to show its skill, camp-nights and so on. At least, I’ll get the freedom to live without too many cares again for a year and I know I’ll cross every bridge when I get there. After all, it’s not like I wouldn’t be paid any “allowee” or would I be called an “otondo” for nothing?

Tales of a Dreamer



On my matriculation day.

When I was young, I had tall dreams. I wanted to be everything; doctor today, lawyer tomorrow, pilot the day after, etc. and this continued even until my secondary school days. I was in science class for a day before I “ran” to commercial class (I left for fear of physics and chemistry). I never went near art class because of my fear of history. It seemed the only dates I could retain in my brain then, were the dates of independence and the amalgamation of the northern and southern protectorates (never minding who did it)!

While in commercial class, Accountancy was the craze not minding the fact that mathematics was not a favourite subject of mine. I studied it out of fear of my math teacher then who did not hesitate to use the cane and well too! However, I was not the only pupil in this “valley of indecision”; I had class-mates who also holidayed there. Many of them wanted to study courses just because of how it sounded. One of my class-mates then, when asked during a career talk held just before the resumption into the senior secondary class, said she wanted to be a “Business-administrator”. I was startled, yet impressed.  Here was a girl who knew already what she wanted to be while I was still “gallivanting” and going on excursions to different classes! I was therefore disappointed when I heard her say that she did not mean it as she only said that to impress the teachers and that she did not even know what the occupation was all about (she eventually studied Economics). It was then I knew there was nothing wrong with me; I was normal after all. I only wanted to be the best I could possibly be (I finally settled for Accountancy).

This dilemma continued even after I chose Accountancy due to the many JAMB exams I wrote and was almost about to study English language (I thought all they did was “blow” grammar and didn’t appreciate the course until I met with undergraduates of English). I eventually gained admission to study my dream course only to meet course-mates who wanted to study accounting too, because it was the craze and because it sounded like a VISA to greatness (never minding the fact that there were thousands of accounting graduates yet to secure meaningful employment). It was not until my third year, when the courses became technical, that my level adviser advised those who couldn’t cope to transfer to department which were seemingly “less technical” than mine. However, I stuck to my guns and graduated from my department and was till surprised to discover that I had so many occupations tugging at my heartstrings. I wanted to be a photographer, writer, auditor, fashion designer, musician, all at once and only stopped adding to the list when a close-friend told me I couldn’t be everything and that I had to pick two or three areas to specialise in!

Well, I have stopped adding to the list else, I would have added Engineering too. I have decided to select a few from my crazy list, follow my dream and find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I have made up my mind to be the best in a few areas than dabble unsuccessfully into all while remembering that “life may put you where you least expect, but you must have faith that you are exactly where you are meant to be” and that the difference between a successful person and others is not a lack of strength, not a lack of knowledge, but rather a lack of will. –Vince Lombardi.