The Dream That Refused to Die

March 2023 , a month forever etched in my heart. The UACE results had just been released, and when I saw mine, I couldn’t believe it. I had performed better than I had ever imagined. That moment felt like everything I had worked for was finally worth it. I could see the pride in my parents' eyes, hear the congratulations pouring in, and for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to dream ,really dream.

But as quickly as the joy came, reality came crashing in.

Later that night, I scrolled through district performance polls, eager to see how others had done. My excitement slowly faded with each scroll. The district had performed well , too well. I suddenly felt a tightening in my chest. My only hope of joining university lay in the district quota scholarship, and with so many top performers, the chances were growing slim.

Still, I prayed. I was ranked seventh, and I begged God that maybe , just maybe , they would select at least eight students. I held onto that hope like a lifeline.

Then came mid-June. The list was out.

I saw it in a group chat. My heart began to race. My hands trembled as I opened the file, scanning through the names over and over again, praying mine would appear. But it didn’t.

Only six students had been chosen.

And I was number seven.

I don’t remember how long I sat there staring at the screen. I just remember the tears, the numbness, and the overwhelming question echoing in my mind: What now?

My parents couldn’t afford to take me to university. That wasn’t even a discussion , it was a known fact. As August approached, the excitement around me was deafening. Friends were packing, preparing, sharing admission letters, university choices, and dreams. Our class group chats turned into countdowns for campus reporting days.

But me? I had no plan. Just silence.

August 5th came , the official reporting date for most universities. And I stayed home. I watched the day pass from the corner of my room, my mind spinning with fear and helplessness. Was this it? Was I going to give up on my dream of becoming a software engineer? Was poverty going to swallow my education, too?

It was the darkest season of my life. I cried. I prayed. I asked questions I didn’t have answers to. That year, every scholarship I had hoped for either didn’t take students or shut down entirely. even the government loan scheme. Why our year? I asked. Why now, when I needed it the most?

Then came a flicker of hope.

About a month after everyone had reported, I got a message from my former headmaster asking me to come to school. He told me he had been quietly trying to help. The best he could get was a placement for a Diploma in Electrical Engineering. My heart sank a little. I asked if I could change the course, but it wasn’t possible.

It hurt because I remembered how I used to avoid anything electricity-related. I had even stapled my physics electricity notes shut, promising myself I’d never open them again. It just wasn’t for me. My heart had always belonged to ICT. But then I thought, it’s better than sitting home with no plan. I took it.

I reported to school around September 2nd, a month late. The rest of the class was far ahead, but I made myself a promise , I’ll catch up. And I did.

But more importantly, I never let go of my real dream.

Throughout my time at the institute, I kept feeding the fire inside me. I attended ICT webinars, hackathons, and tech conferences. I followed online tutorials, spent countless hours on YouTube learning to code, and poured my heart into self-study. I was studying one course by day, but by night, I was building the future I had once imagined.

As I neared the end of my diploma, I confided in a friend about my dreams of becoming a software engineer. A few weeks later, he told me about an opportunity ,a training program for young girls to study a Certificate in Software Engineering.

I applied.

I prayed.

And by God’s grace, I was accepted.

Today, that’s what I’m doing. I’m back on the path I once thought I had lost. I don’t know exactly where life is leading me, but for the first time in a long time, I feel like the sun is beginning to rise again.

This journey taught me that sometimes, dreams take the longer road , the harder road. But if you keep walking, even with tired feet and a heavy heart, you’ll find that purpose has a way of finding those who refuse to give up.

Because some dreams… they just don’t die.