Read Touching story below:-

The gods of the land, must have conspired against my success. They must have been rebelling against my success for so long.

Why has destiny screwed me out of favour, even when they come? These were exactly my lines of thoughts, when I saw my name considered for a provisional admission. After three attempts of the Joint Admission Matriculation Board Examimation.

But, the finance to kiss the awaited door of the university seems to be a huge punch, like that of Mayweather, on me. Just some months at the place of my I.T placement(GTBank),

and now, welcomed with a congratulatory text of admission from the better by far University (University of Ilorin).

It was an ethical dilemma. I was left with two right answers but still stuck. Situation presented me with the option to continue to work with an ordinary diploma certificate or opt out to go to the university, I had longed dream of.

Just like the four lepers who were left with the options of entry the Aramean camp in search of greener pasture, but would have to face death! or they remain in their country and die of hunger!

I asked myself many unanswered questions. The words of those leper played my thoughts, ‘why sit we here till we die!’ I asked myself too, why sit I here, till I fade.

Success smiled at me, for the first time after many attempts to pursue a university degree. but, failure seems to be around the corner to make jest of me.

Leaving the job a stipend is sure of, for school where there is no finance for, is like telling a blind man to compete with Usain Bolt.

I cried, but my tears would not appease the gods of fortune, to send me helpers. I really desired the university wall, just like I desire to work in the banking hall.

I cried, sometimes I regretted coming to this world, I blamed my parents for bringing me to this world, to suffer for things that should naturally be my entitlement.

Just as I was sank in the deep thought of what to do, that clammy morning, I was greeted with another congratulatory, news to start work with one of the big guns bank, Skye bank on the Island. God! I shouted. another ethical dilemma.

‘I want to go to school.’ I was left with many right answers, but with only one answer to be given. I resolute, to resign and go to school, it would be a dilemma, because the finance isn’t available.

If I settle for the employement, there will the money to cater for myself and my aging parents and siblings, but there will be limitation to how far, I go in the value-market. ‘Oh, Allah help me.’ Was the only word I could reiterate.

Finally, I left work for school. Oh, God! I used to think life was a bed rose, until I left my job, to know that responsibility, isn’t a child’s play.

The stipend from my job was sufficient to foot my opening school bills. The problem was now, continuing and surviving.

I knew, no one would help me, if I didn’t help myself. I had to look for something to parlay and see myself live fine in school.

A friend told me to start with a bet, he gave me the assurance that I would see the double amount of my money, if I could predict correctly weekend football matches.

I went home jubilating, thinking of how to start the weekend with my new remedy to hardship, bet.

I parrot back the information, when my nursery school yoruba rhymes, sip into my ears ‘Ohun tí abá sisé fún ní pé lówó eni’ otherwise; only things we worked/laboured for last longer.’

The rhymes, couldn’t be wrong. It was a synopsis of my mother’s philosophy of life, ‘Isé ni ògùn ìsé’ otherwise, ‘work is the antidote to poverty.’ Stealing was the only option I wouldn’t have considered.

It was a sunny afternoon, that day on campus, the golden petals of the sun shone directly to my eye balls, I used my right hand to shade my eyes to see further. It was a gentle pat on my back, it was Àdió, my secondary school mate.

I was shocked, because it was rumored that he was reprimanded for stealing; no one would have argue against that, because of his character then(while, we were in secondary school). We hugged each as I stole gaze at him.

‘I am a 400level student of History and International studies.’ He said, in a tone buried in pride. I marvelled at his achievement, because then, I never thought a pap will ever sally from his black pot.

I told him I am just a new student in the school, but I was quick to tell him my challenges, because he was looking kempt and it was obvious he was heading for a delivery. He asked me, to meet him in his house, which he described.

We departed with a firm handshake, with our eyes peering into each others. My mind told me, he remembered how his secondary school ‘crush’ left him for me(who knows) The midday alarm met me in his room and parlour self-contained.

His room was tastefully decorated. A resemblance of the eye-catchy room arrangement in hollywood. He welcomed me, with a warm hug, with the scent of his perfume naturalising the odour from my armpit.

I didn’t mind sitting on the floor as I narrate how I desperately need a means of survival, in school. He beamed, and asked me to sit on the sofa. He promised to introduce me to his friend, who was into catering services.

I met him, and that was how I started moving from one junket to another every weekend, as a service boy. I travelled as far as kogi, Ekiti, Sokoto, with the catering services establishment. I parlayed the little I get to meet my end means.

On week days, I will go in search of construction site, and work as a laborer. At the end of the labour, I get paid but my body aches.

Balancing school with work was a hell of work to do. At a point, I considered quitting schooling because I was under a pressure, I thought it was too tough for me to handle.

My father’s word occurred to me ‘you don’t relent if you’re not sure of the prize yet.’ I persist.

It was not a rosy journey, but determination stirred me. Even when it was time to run for a political post, I did. Though, I looked down on myself but people around me, that was aware of the potentate in me, encouraged me.

I emerged as the president of my department. Double work!. I no longer think for myself, I think for also, hundreds of heads.

Still with my labourer’s job and the catering service job, I was able to see myself through, not relegating the impact of my friends, who we coached children together during holidays, around Surulere axis(Lawanson), Lagos.

When I remember the story of my life, which words can’t capture, I cry.

But, today 30th, Sept, 2017. I am a graduate with a grade that every students will love to have. Who says a dream is too hard to achieve, when determination is there?

Never give up on your dreams, your life is an epistle others are waiting for to read and write theirs too, when you remember this you won’t give up. I am a success!