The childhood games were fun but there was a price to pay for every ounce of enjoyment; everything has a price. The rule I had was pretty simple yet difficult to obey – eat lunch on return from school and take a nap immediately to rest for evening reading. This rule usually disappeared at the thought or sight of football and resurfaced after the crime had been committed. Penance was heavy.
I am not sure I’d have made good footballer had I been given the freedom to explore and I did not need a soothsayer to tell me I wasn’t cut out for football. My duty was to books and learning and I did just that. It felt good being called doctor by my peers so when we had the chance at the Junior Secondary School to select programmes to be pursued at the Senior Secondary school, I did not hesitate selecting General Science (which would later turn to be my greatest undoing). I had virtually no idea what was happening in the science class and I spent five terms practically carrying my colleagues on my head.
Following my very abysmal performance at Science, I switched to the Arts upon my father’s insistence. Though I wasn’t happy with the decision as it felt embarrassing to repeat a class at the time (as it is even now) it proved to be the turning point in my life as I discovered indeed, I wasn’t made for (Medical) Doctor. The arts programme proved to be what I truly should have been studying as I was adjudged the overall Best Student in the first year, winning a government scholarship in addition. I remained top of my class for the three years in the secondary school.
As I grew older, things began looking clearer though life was pretty tough and difficult to pursue the paths being lit. I love books and had always loved and dreamed of them. If I cannot take care of patients at the hospital as a medical doctor, I can console myself with writing and or taking care of books! If not, why not? Or is there anything else?