A few weeks back, the news that WAEC (West African Examinations Council) had released the results for the exams we wrote about two months ago reached me, and I rushed to check mine. I did not pass English; I failed woefully, and I did not know how to tell my parents because of how they had hoped I would pass WAEC and proceed to college the following year. Failing no other subject but English was about to put that dream on hold. Somehow, I summoned the courage to tell my mom.
“How did you fail English?” my mom asked as she continued stirring the stew she was preparing.
“I cannot even explain, mom,” I responded with teary eyes.
“I understand you, but now it is for your father to understand. You know how he is,” my mom said as she hugged me to cheer me up.
“Can you help me tell him?” I asked.
“No, you have to do that yourself,” my mom said as she got back to cooking.
I spent two days thinking about how I would break the news of my failure to my dad, but somehow I had to tell him since my mom had already made it clear she would not be involving herself, and it was better if the news came from me. He was never around because of his type of work, and I could not wait until he came back. I picked up my phone and paced around the compound for a minute or two before I dialed his number.
Grrrrrgrrrr, the phone rang, and my heart started racing.
“Hello, my boy, how are you?” my dad asked with so much happiness that I called.
“I am fine, sir. How about you? Hope you are fine, sir,” I asked.
“It is not easy, but we are managing. How about your siblings?” my dad asked.
“They are fine, sir,” I responded. “Dad, I have a problem, and I am sorry before I even say it,” I added.
“What is the problem?” my dad asked.
“Dad, I failed English in WAEC. I am sorry, sir,” I said, apologizing already, but that did not stop him from saying how he felt.
“You wrote NECO (National Examination Council), right?” he asked. “Better not fail that one because if you do, that will be it. I don’t mind buying a wheelbarrow for you and maybe a shovel,” my dad added with a tone showing he was disappointed but just did not want to be harsh.
“I will try my best, sir,” I responded as he hung up the call.
A few weeks after our conversation, it was all over the neighborhood that the NECO result was also out and we could either check with our phones or visit a cybercafé to do that. Hearing that news did not only scare me, it forced me to picture myself pushing a wheelbarrow if I did not pass, and for NECO, I did not rush to check my result. I kept on praying and wishing things would be different. The pressure, the fear—the result was the first thing I remembered when I woke up and the last thing that went through my mind before I slept.
One Saturday morning, I decided to check my result and see what was in there, but it kept saying “result not available,” “try again later,” or “server error.” Every time any of these messages popped up, it felt like a test of patience I did not even prepare for. A neighbor noticed my frustration.
“You want to check your result, right?” he asked. “Just try it again at night because the network is better and stronger at night,” he added as he headed towards the gate.
“Thank you, sir,” I said, appreciating him as I felt like smashing the phone because of the amount of pressure I was under and wanted to get it over with.
That Saturday was a boring one for me. I stayed indoors throughout and kept wishing and praying that this one would be different because it had to be different, or else my parents would be really mad at me, and that meant instead of college the following year, I would have to retake the exams.
The light went off at about 10:17 p.m. that Saturday, and it was not a surprise at all. A compound that was very quiet suddenly became lively again, those putting on generators, those dragging out plastic chairs and wooden benches so they could sit outside and enjoy the fresh air, and then there was me, who was outside for both the fresh air and looking for signal as I kept waving my phone from left to right and above my head.
I walked towards the gate of the compound, where I sat down on a block. I looked up, and there was a star shining brighter than the others.
“Please help me pass,” I whispered.
After I whispered that, I felt like it was a childish thing to do, but that night I did not care and would go to any point to make sure that I passed.
“Are you now talking to stars?” my younger brother David, who followed without me noticing, asked.
“My brother, you will not understand,” I responded as I made space for him to sit with me.
The moment he sat down, my phone vibrated, and notifications started to pop up, showing that the signal was now strong.
“Check your result,” my younger brother urged me.
I picked up the phone, loaded the page, and it went through smoothly. I typed in my exam details and my card number, and while I was waiting for it to load up my result, I almost had a heart attack. I could feel my heartbeat all over my body, including my legs. My hands were shaking. I started feeling dizzy, like I was about to pass out. The moment my result popped up, I first rushed to check if I passed English.
English – B3
Mathematics – C6
Every other subject was passed as well. “I passed,” I whispered.
“I can’t hear you. What did you say?” my younger brother, who was also anxious, asked.
“I passed!” I shouted this time.
“Congratulations,” my brother said as he patted my shoulder. “It could be a coincidence or it could be your star,” he added as he walked away.
