Childhood sucks big time. From one problem to another. The stubborn child I was opened waves of injuries. There was a day I played hide and seek. I wanted to hide in a place really smart for others not to see. Lo and behold, I fell down and injured my face. Be it as it may, the injury caused inflammation. So painful to react to, right? 👍
Now, here is the tricky part — I was beaten by my parents.
Scene 2 that I remember was abusing somebody, and the next response was a big blow on my face. I got a nosebleed.
Ha ha ha!
It was really bad that my mum asked who it was...
“It was that boy,” I said.
“Which boy? Take me there.”
I went to meet the boy. He stood underneath a tree, still playing without remorse.
Soon, my mum told him, “Why were you so cruel that you gave this boy a blow?”
He answered, *“Oun lo kọkọ wa bami,”* which means, *“He was the one who came to me first.”*
*“Igbà tó bù mí, mo fun ẹsẹ. Ara mi rùn,”* he said.
Ha! My mum actually talked to him, but he refused to apologize.
Moving on, I remember the day I fainted. My dad carried me upon his shoulders. He was like...
Yes, it was a fateful morning. My mum woke me up for school. I didn’t. I only remember seeing a large amount of water on my face.
Next, it was my dad carrying me to the hospital. Painful, right?
Was it because of the room structure? I almost slept and didn’t wake up.
At the hospital, my dad screamed before the doctors heard his cry for help.
Soon, the doctor heard his cry and answered him. Hmmm! I waited for months in the hospital.
Next was part two: I was involved in a fracture — **epiphyseal fracture** — which almost took the hell out of me. This traumatic scenery affected me more than before.
Next is my academics. As a child, I was always getting low exam scores because I was stubborn. I didn’t really read. I was only interested in games.
Ha ha ha!
Not until I got a “reset slap” from my aunt. It was painful, but I ended up leaving a private school for a public school.
But right from day one in public school, I took my studies seriously. I went to tutorials. I read my ass out. Soon, I graduated very well.
I had **314 in my JAMB exam** — a very good score. JAMB was not easy, but it was great.
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### University Life:
University life was hard.
On my matriculation day, I wore this cloth 😂😂😂.
Funny right.
Moving on...
Electricity made me read in school outside, where mosquitoes bit your blood. We called them *OSUTH vampires*.
Now, was I a bookworm or a book reader? I perceived myself as a walking dead.
**Flashback 😂** — my friends saw it; I didn’t give a damn. I just wanted to read my ass off 😂.
Like, just imagine — a video of me reading in the night was taken. I was reading like it was more than just a common exam.
*This is olamide reading under the street lamps.*
I can’t forget Olamide. He was always like, “Guy, try dey rest.”
Many people thought I was no longer normal. I read for three days straight with little to no sleep.
This first image from this screenshot was my wallpaper and my motivator.
I remember those days when I didn’t even take a good night wrapper or cloth. Everything was like a disaster.
Every single mosquito bite meant a lot. I read myself almost to death.
Now here comes the hardest part — I was an *exco* in church and a project leader, and I needed to read for exams.
Additionally, I ran tutorials to survive. Every tutorial missed meant no food that day. It was the hardest life.
I couldn’t survive — I could only watch as I became uneasy. I started to lose myself.
**400L** was the worst. I smelt death. My legs hurt, but I took upon myself the duty of a leader — choosing not to eat rather than fail God or fail academically.
You know how church *excos* are... Some will even say, “You read more than you take God seriously.”
Soon, I left my tutorial job. I knew that teaching meant food, but I just had to balance it all. Eventually, I paid for it.
I became a **living vibrator**. Every single moment around people felt like hell. Walking from home to school was hard, but I persisted.
I told myself, “I don’t care about me anymore.”
Supervisor calls. Project colleagues cry.
Every time I told them how uneasy it was for me, others would say, “It’s the same for us.”
In fact, every single day from 6–7, I tried my best to be in school by 7–8.
At some point, I collapsed. I knew something was wrong. My project colleagues began to notice abnormalities in the way I spoke.
People around me would say, “Joseph, your sleep is abnormal. If you die, no one will know.”
They kept peeping at my window.
Faruk and Olamide — those guys really watched over me. I miss them.
Olamide once said, “You’re in the manic state of schizophrenia.”
My dressing no longer mattered to me.
I didn’t even have the strength to cook anymore. Sometimes, I would go to my parents’ house for rest and freshness. But even then, when I returned...
**Omo!** Life was hard.
I knew I had to fight. Soon, what I was reading stopped entering.
Elijah assisted somehow.
Olamide could survive 2–3 days without food.
I knew I hadn’t been eating well — it affected me and my project.
Soon, food came, and I no longer cared. I ate so well. My lecturer gave me food, and later, my parents too.
Psychologically, my brain wasn’t okay.
No one except me knew.
No headaches — just shaking hands and legs.
I had constant angina... chest pain.
Still... every *homo sapiens* said that I wasn’t doing enough. 😂
I almost lost my reason to live. I felt drained and pained.
The task ahead was great, but I managed — not by my strength — to finish well.
I thank God.
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The Nigerian education system lacks electricity supply, and this is affecting her productivity.
**Electricity is life.**
Thanks for visiting.
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