There's A Reason Why!!

Once a while in our lifetime, we go through ups and downs. When things are going well for us, if we remember, we thank our God and we never fail to blame the devil (real or imagined) for the bad times we go through. Events happen in our daily lives that make an impact on us in ways we might not know or understand. We meet people daily, make new friends, go to school, get a degree, get a job, drive to work, have lunch with friends, party till we drop, go to work late, get fired from work and start all over again. These events dont just happen. The person we meet today might hire us for a job tomorrow or we might even marry them. What you learn in a lecture today could stimulate a business idea that will make you tons of money in the future. On the flipside, the test you failed yesterday could spur you to study hard for tomorrow's examination. The car accident you saw on TV will make you a careful driver when next you are on the road, when you get kicked out of a grocery store for no reason, you begin to have a new perspective on racism. There is a lot to learn when life is speaking to us. When the results of my final examinations in Nigeria were released, they were quite appalling and I thought that was the begining of the end of an education for me. I thought entrance into a university was out of the question, at least for now. I cried a lot during that time and my mother kept trying to calm me down because she felt, there was a reason this was happening.

My secondary school education was at Federal Government College, Kaduna in Northern Nigeria. The system was such that we had to take about fourteen classses ranging from Introduction to technology, art, home economics to Social Studies and the three Nigerian Languages. After completing what we called the Junior Secondary School in three years, we had to sit for a nationwide examination to qualify to go ion to the Senior Secondary School that lasts for three years as well. Students who passed the JSS examination moved on while those who did not make it had to repeat a year and attempt the exam again the following year. In all, it still amazes me how we managed the 14 subjects we were constantly being tested on. At the Senior Secondary School level (SSS1-SSS3), the subjects were scaled back to nine. How the educational authorities came up with this magic number is unknown to me but I assumed we had to do the core subects - maths, english and at least two sciences and to give us a well rounded education a bunch of other subject. In any case, I ended up with Mathematics, English Language, English Literature, Physics, Chemistry, Biology, Agricultural Science and Igbo, a Nigerian language. I had wanted to be an engineer since I was good at repairing and wrecking things around the house especially electrical equipments. I had also at a different time wanted to be an architect, I love houses, structures and I still have my idea of a dream house. After three years of SSS, we were required to take two major examinations in order to get into one of the Nigerian Universities. One of the exams was the Joint Admissions and Matriculations Board (JAMB) which is somewhat like the CPA examination for accountants in the sense that it consists of four individual exams which includes the use of English and three others depending on your intended major. The second examination was the SSCE which is much like the finals in colleges but harder since it tests what you have learnt in a particular subject for the past three years. Both were very important to every students future. If you made the requuired grade in both, you went on to one of the universities and if you failed one of the two, you technically shut the door on a university education for that year. Unlike the SAT or the GRE, these exams were only offered once a year. In any case, university admission was only once a year. In a simple sentence, I clonked the SSCE. At that point, I began to notice that everything about life was an abbreviation.

My mother always believed there was a reason for everything. She is a very special person so you have to believe it when she tells you that. After my results arrived at my house, there was a lot of tension at home. To say my dad was astounded is an understatement. My dad is someone many would call an academic. He expected a lot from his children and being the first, he probably hated the idea of this trend being emulated by my siblings. This is beside the fact that it seemed as if good money was being thrown away with nothing to show for it. Looking back now, good money was being wasted and since I now pay my own bills, it is easy to put myself in the mindset of a parent. My failure meant that more money was to be spent on and extra year of education on which money had previously being invested. It also meant that instead of being at the University where I could partially fend for myself, I was still at home where I was going to be fed full time and who knows probably eat into other people's ration. Everything meant more money and this investment was yielding no returns. My poor result meant that I could not get into a university for the 1991/1992 session. My results were mailed to me in Nairobi, Kenya where my father works for one of the international agencies and my mother made every effort to enrol me into a school so I could take my exams over again. Numerous visits to schools around the area yielded nothing. Many of them wanted to set me back by two-three years and I was not about to start high school all over again. I finally paid a visit to Nairobi Academy with my parents. It was one of the private schools in Nairobi and one of the good ones too. After a series of test and interviews, they agreed to accept me. A new chapter in my life had just begun.

I still had fears of what lay in my future. I was trying to erase the image of me as a baggage handler/tout at the bus station since these were the occupations my father said we might end up in if we did not study hard. I was back in school for the 1991/92 session and I had no social life whatsoever. All I could think about was University. To keep myself focused, I joined the track, soccer and volleyball team, the three areas I enjoy passionately. My books and my sports activities were all that kept body and soul together. The initial plan (or should I say my father's plan since I was not yet beyond my childhood fantasy plans) was to start my undergraduate career in one of the Nigerian Universities. By this time, the Career and Counseling Committee made up of my father, my dad and my male parent had decided that whatever happens, I was going to be an economics major. I had no choice, I could not be an engineer since I already flunked Physics and Chemistry in my SSCE; I was not sure what course a baker or a carpenter could study at the University level. If I had the choice, I could have gone pro but the question then is pro-what? In any case, who was I to argue, after all, the buck starts and stops in the same place, my father's pocket. The school year went along fine, I was concentrating with no distractions. I started excelling in the classroom and on the sports field. I won various awards for both my academic work and for track. I was almost made captain of my house had I not decided to leave the school later. The question of what University I might be headed to came up again as we were midway through the school year. The CCC still believed that a Nigerian University was the best place to get an undergraduate degree and only then should one seek an advanced degree outside the shores of the country. Well, a lot of events conspired in my favor. The most important but unfortunate event was the shut down of almost all the Nigerian universities because the academic staff was on strike protesting the non payment of their wages. That meant that the chances of going to a Nigerian university was becoming bleak. The other alternative was to go to a university in Kenya and I did not cherish the thought of that because by this time, I longed to be with my peers and frankly, I wanted to leave home and try new things.

I started my application process about February of 1992 for the fall of the same year. I applied to Michigan State University, University of Michigan and a host of Canadian universities that had closed their application process for that year. Somehow, the colorful brochure of Northeastern Univeristy in Boston caught my eye at one of the offices I visited in Nairobi and I got hooked. Was I guillible or what? How often do you go to a school because of the fine architecture without for a second thinking about all the other factors? Schools now play on the fact that students fall for colorful booklets. They take pictures of fine buildings and sometimes ugly ones from a good angle, print them, invite you to campus just as soon as they finish construction on a new classroom building. They make sure your whole visit to the school centers around that building and afterwards, they take you to the best cafeteria on campus to sample the food that has been specially prepared to entice you to the school. It was all about showboating and a lot of people always fell for that including me. Northeastern began to respond to my mail and at a point I had decided that that was where I was headed, provided of course that I was accepted and my father approved. After a couple of missing mails and request for more information, I finally got my admission letter on July 30, 1992. My mother came to me and said "I told you to be patient, there is a reason you could not get into school in Nigeria, a better opportunity has now arisen, make use of it" Actually, I already knew that, I am sure my dad was also happy but he hardly ever jumped for joy unless he got a visit from Jesus Christ. Inwardly, he was smiling but externally, his expression was telling you that he was no Chase Manhattan Bank.