Ichógbódu eñudu chuja n

 

Yes, I got better.

I got better from that little boy with torn uniforms, not because moma never cared, but because he was too stubborn to slow down. Two weeks was enough to rip a shirt apart, buttons lost like fallen soldiers (no mockery intended). Like Jean-Claude Van Damme, Sylvester Stallone and those heroes he saw in Hollywood movies, he loved to walk bare-chested, feeling strong in borrowed greatness. He fought through every break time, friends and mates are intimidated by his presence, but hey, he's no monster. He stopped asking for his sandals to be mended as long as Santana leather could still hold them together.

And yes, I got better.

That boy with catarrh all year round, it stopped being an illness and became a signature, one could easily say to any random person in the environment; have you seen the pupil with runny nose? The catarrh became a part of his identity, don't blame him for that, he was just a boy. He wore it like a badge of stubborn honor. The one whose head was dotted with fungal patches, yet remained the loudest voice in classrooms. The one who never blended in, never truly rested, never disappeared.

And yes, they always said, “He’s stubborn… but intelligent.” he just need to refine his crass to class. But he has never been classy.

When he committed an offense and stood before judgment, his grades often became his defence. His report card would speak when his mouth could not. I called it intelligence then. Today, I know better, it was just grace. Pure and undeserved God's-Given- Grace.

But like Obi, who grew from boyhood into manhood, that boy has crossed his own bridge.

He is no longer just a man, he is a man with conviction.

Change is constant, they say. But change must also be progressive and positive. And today, I can say it without pride, yet without shame; he has changed. Not backwards. Not sideways. But forward.

Progressively. Positively.

And yes, I got better.

®Ahmed Salim Jn ✍️ RCHP |Med. Student

#Uloko