While I sat on the bus heading to Lagos, different thoughts flooded my mind. Life wasn't what I had pictured it to be because I did everything possible to get admission after secondary school, but I had nothing to show for the long tutorial sessions and burning midnight candles.
My parents weren't mad at me but the feeling of disappointing them deprived me of peace. I felt like I could have done more to secure my admission but honestly, I gave my best. I wasn't happy, and everyone saw it, which prompted my aunt to suggest that I learned a trade while waiting for the next admission in the coming year. Not back at home because I can't move around the neighbourhood freely since all my friends have gone to university. I preferred to learn in Lagos and my parents gave their consent.
As the bus sped past the tall bushes on the road, I wished we were travelling back in time. Maybe there was something I could do differently but those were mere thoughts.
After 2 hours on the road, we arrived at the Lagos garage and I alighted from the bus. My aunt was there to pick me up and I felt happy to see her.
"So, how was the trip?" She asked me immediately after I greeted her.
"It was fine, ma. The traffic wasn't much," I replied as we headed towards the tricycles going to our destination. We boarded one and chatted about life back at home throughout the short trip.
We arrived at her place and her family were happy to see me. They showed me to their room, where I would also stay, so I unpacked my things, freshened up and joined them in the living room.
I was given some refreshment and had barely finished with it before my aunt asked me what trade or skill I was interested in.
"I thought I should learn fashion design from you," I replied.
"Me? Are you sure about that?" She asked, laughing like I said something funny.
"Yes, there is money in it. I do hear your conversation with mom about your work in Lagos," I replied to her.
"So you've been eavesdropping on our conversations? Anyway, fashion design is a good business but it's not as easy as you think," She replied.
"Is it not just to cut and sew? A year would pass now and I will be on my way to school," I stuttered.
"Yes, it is, but what you've just said took people five years to master," She replied and signalled to me to follow her when the kids were disturbing our conversation.
We went to her bedroom and she brought out pictures of herself when she graduated from a fashion school. She was smiling in the pictures and I could tell she was looking forward to that day.
"You were still very small and can't remember anything, but your mom brought you that day. It was one of the happiest days of my life," She sat on the bed, resting her back and I knew she really wanted to lecture me.
She continued, "Unlike you, fashion design was something I wanted as a child. Whenever I saw beautiful dresses, I pictured myself sewing them, but my mom insisted that I completed secondary school before thinking of learning."
"After secondary school, I enrolled in a fashion school, unlike my mates who went to a higher institution. Everyone laughed at me, but they didn't know it was what I wanted for myself. I had a passion for this skill, and it took me less than three years to become a professional."
"What I am trying to say is that if you are choosing a skill, it must be something you are passionate about because you don't want would happen tomorrow."
Everything she said opened my mind to a bigger possibility of making it big with my skill, something that can fetch me money even while in school and after graduation.
"What will you advise me to do," I stuttered.
"I can't tell you and you have to think about it yourself. You have enough time to think it through, so no rushing," She replied, and we returned to the living room.
Throughout that day, I thought about something I was passionate about. Something I love very well and catering kept coming to me. My parents have a tenant who bakes and during the weekend, I used to help her mix butter and sugar for cake. She tips me, though, but I love what she does.
Later in the night, I mentioned catering to my aunt and she smiled. "That's a good one," She replied and I was happy.
We put a call across to my parents to inform them about my choice, and they gave their consent as usual; they would always support me with anything I needed.
My aunt swung into action the next morning, looking around for where I could learn properly, and she got the link to a government training centre. They offered a one-year course for different skills, and that was all. I enrolled and it was the right choice because I enjoyed everything I was doing at the training centre.
In the blink of an eye, a year passed and I got my certificate. Another year passed, and I couldn't secure my admission again due to financial reasons, so I continued to learn more about catering, most especially baking.
I gained admission in the third year, and the skills I learned played an important role in my journey. When my dad's health deteriorated and all the family's income went into caring for him, my skills helped me survive in school.
