Story Of Success – Part 3

Story Of Success; Everyone wants to tell a successful story but few works toward it. Some gave up when it seems unbearable.

Some stop because of jealousness


Let find more in this Success Story.



Story of success


 The next day when I got to my tutorial center, everyone rushed at me.

“Precious, how was it?”

“Hope you smashed?”

“Of course” someone answered, “don’t you know who she is?”

Abeg coman give us gist jare,” one of them said 

  I advised those of them that were cramming the past questions to stop because I didn’t come across a single past question in mine. They were all awed. That day, those that had written earlier than I started seeing their scores. One got 185, the other, 187. I was baffled. How can someone score one eighty-something in an exam that’s over 400? But I didn’t ask it out in order not to hurt their feelings.

On Monday, more people have seen theirs and the highest score I’d seen in that my tutorial center was 237. I knew mine would have been released too but I did not check. I never check my results online. There’s this uncle of mine who always takes it upon himself to check for me.

   Henry came to where I was seated at the computer section and tapped me “How far naa?” he asked. I wasn’t in the mood at all “I’m fine” I said going back to what I was doing.

“Have you checked your own?”

   My heart skipped on hearing that. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. Whenever anyone around me brings up a topic related to JAMB and the results, my heart would skip a beat.

“No” I answered

“Why naa?” he pressed on, “you wrote on Thursday. Your own is supposed to be out now”

“I know,” I said “I’ll check it later”

   Everyone seemed to be more interested to know what Precious scored than their scores. Even our tutors. It made me more anxious. I was designing a Nigerian flag in MS Powerpoint when my phone rang. Henry excused me. The caller was my uncle. The one I just told you about.

   God, I felt like ignoring the call because I already knew why he was calling but on second thoughts, I picked. What could happen? Even if I don’t check my result till next year, the score will not change.

“Hello” I heard his voice from the other side

“Hello,” I said “good afternoon sir”

“Good afternoon dear”

   After the usual pleasantries, he asked me if I’d checked my result and I said no. He then asked me to send my reg number and password immediately and cut the call.

   Some minutes later, I received a message on my phone, and with shaky hands, I unlocked my phone. I saw the score but I looked away in unbelief, blinked several times to make sure it was real. Perhaps it’s 273 that I saw. I looked again.


   My heart sank. I was staring blankly into the air.

“This is not my result” I muttered “it can’t be”

Then I asked my uncle to send me a screenshot of the result page on WhatsApp. I went online and viewed it. To my utmost surprise, it was my result. Tears clouded in my eyes at once and I blinked severally to fight them back. I saved my work on the system, grabbed my handbag, and walked out of the class.

   As I was waiting for a bus on the side of the road, I kept asking myself questions and muttering to myself

“What have I done to my village people?”

I did not mention the result to anyone even when I got home. I think it was two days later that I told my parents about it. They were dumbfounded. 213? And what’s more, it’s Medicine that I filled in and in such a prestigious school as the University of Nigeria Nsukka. I knew I would not make it. I went without a saying.

   My parents surprisingly did not say much. They were quite calm about the matter contrary to how I was thinking.

   I kept going to my tutorial center because I still had about 3 months to go before I complete my computer training program. Most of my tutorial classmates had also enrolled in computer training after the exams.

   I only told my score to one of our tutors and a few of my close friends but it wasn’t long before the others knew. I cannot say I became a laughing stock outrightly but I knew I was.

   They’d come to me in groups and surround me

“Hey Precious” one said “I heard you didn’t do well in JAMB”

   I don’t know if they were expecting me to answer that but I kept doing what I was doing as though no one had talked.

“Precious, what’s your score naa” they kept on pestering me. 

One day, I lost it.

“213!” I fired back when one of them asked. And to pretend as if they weren’t happy to be confirmed right, one would tap me in a playful manner

“Stop that joor…I know you’re lying”

“If I want to lie, I’d increase my score. Not decrease”

   Slowly, they’d disperse because they’ve confirmed what they heard but a few would stay back just to test my patience.

“Jeez…so you scored213?”

Having no interest to continue the chat, I just continued with what I was doing.

“I scored 247” she announced to torture me the more. I concealed my annoyance and congratulated her. That was when she rose like someone who had achieved her aim and left me to my thoughts.

   These were the people that always come to me to explain things to them. The same group of people that worshipped me like a goddess among men. I flashed back to the day we were solving questions on Newton’s law of gravitational attraction in class. Every other person was begging for a calculator to solve whereas I solved without it and arrived at the answer a few seconds after those with a calculator. Everyone was amazed and the tutor advised them to come and learn how to solve it without a calculator from me.

   That particular day, they came in groups. I taught and taught and without even asking them to, they had pity on me and contributed money to buy me food and drink and even gave me transport fare back home.

   What went wrong? Why did I fail this badly? I asked myself

“My village people have done their worse” I muttered

  I thought I’d seen it all but that was just the beginning. Back home, my parents would inquire about the result of a relative’s child or that of a friend of a friend of a friend’s child. Then, they’d come home to announce it to me.

“Do you remember that my friend, Loveth?” mum ask me one day while we were in the kitchen. I thought for a while but couldn’t remember. 

“Yes,” I told her not wanting to hear long and complicating descriptions before she tells me whatever it is she wants to say.

“Chidimma, her second daughter scored 261 in JAMB o!”

  My countenance changed at once now getting the point.

“Really?” I’d feign excitement “she tried o”

“O ndi na-agu akwukwo, it’s those that are studying” she chipped in and I rolled my eyes.

  My dad does the same thing at times but mum was the one who knew how best to rub it in. I became vexed and was patiently waiting for the next year to come so that I’d register again.

   Ignorant me.

I’m the first child and haven’t gotten experience so I did not know anything about the change of institution and course. I didn’t even know that POST UTME existed and to make it worse, my phone got spoilt and I was using Nokia 3310 so I wasn’t informed.

   It was my friend that called me and explained all those things to me. She also told me that since her score was equally low, she’d apply for a change of course and institution too.

“You also want to change school?!” I asked

“Yes,” she said “to increase my chances of getting admitted”

“To where?” I asked frowning

“There’s this new federal university in Ebonyi state. I’ll change to there and also change from Nursing to Biochemistry” she replied

I sighed “There goes our dream of going to UNN together”

“When the desirable is not available, the available becomes desirable,” she said.




Story Of Success- Part 1

Twin Thoughts – Episode 1


Never Give Up – part 1

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