It looked as if that day will never come. But it did come, slow as it might have seemed to me.

During difficult moments, the end of the tunnel can be very blur even when we are standing next to it.

It was one cool Monday morning, April 20. I remember the date very well. In hard times like that how could one forget?

It was morning assembly of a cluster of schools. It was the first day of our final exams. The long awaited week.

“Bread of heaven! “ A voice from the back of the long queues raised the tune.

A chorus of voices of children joined in the singing.

It was my first time hearing that song. I couldn’t make out all the lyrics but something within the song and how it was sung, touched me in a way a couldn’t describe. Such a soothing effect on my troubled heart.

Before that day, there had been plenty of planning, and scheming, and strategizing.

Plans on how to assist one another in the exam hall, though it was against the rules. Plans on contributions to make to soften the hearts of stubborn invigilators. Lots of extra classes and group studies, sleepless nights and nightmares.

A few days to the exams, I had nightmares of missing some of my papers. I couldn’t tell if it was the tension or the people in my village at work in their science lab of wizardry.

All the tough preparations boiled down to this day. After the announcements and a revision of some of the exams rules and some prayers for us, our teachers whispered their last advice and wishes into our ears.

We stepped into the exam room.

I developed some tummy upset and a light diarrhea earlier that morning. It made me panicky that I might miss the exam, just as I had seen in my nightmares. I began to pray hard against such an unfortunate incident. I had come too far and gone through so much to end up with nothing to show for it.

For adults and others who had  written the exams before, there was nothing difficult or fearful about the papers. But for us writing it for the first time, it was like going for a murder trial. Anything can happen.

The first day was smooth. The days that followed, some of the papers were difficult, some easy, some in-between. But finally, Friday came. The final day of the exams. After completing my answer booklet, I waited patiently.

Then a bell was rang, and out came hundreds of jubilant final year students, glad it had all ended in peace. We were free! At last!
Screaming, jubilation, congratulations, hugs and kisses. Words could not describe how we felt.

I felt like a chick that has had its legs tied for a long time and was finally freed and allowed to walk. The steps were difficult, deliberate, unsure, fearful but delicious and liberating.

Like showers of blessings and freedom, rains came. Not a heavy one, a light one that we could walk in it as we trudged home. New conquerors.

I chatted with a close female friend of mine by name Ola. My head was so full of excitement I can’t even remember what we talked about on the long road back home.

There were buses to send us home, but we all preferred walking, and talking, and planning what we were going to do with the long months we were going to spend at home.

People who met us on the way congratulated us. We met other students from other cluster of schools who were on their way home.

When I got home, the priest tried to conceal a smile.

“Congrats!” he said.

“Thank you.” I responded, smiling broadly.

“You are now a graduate.” he remarked.

“Yes.” I replied.

It was all over, for now.

I couldn’t wait to join my siblings in their new neighborhood within the city we lived in. I couldn’t wait to leave the priest’s house, a house of maltreatments and temptations and provocations. A house I felt traumatized living in. A house each time I remember coming to, I felt unease in my spirit.

I had a little devotional I used to read every morning. That Friday we finished the exams, I read its message in the evening. It was a message titled “Gratitude”. It spoke about gratitude to God for bringing us through various trials. I wondered if those who wrote it knew in advance that some of their readers like me will be going through difficult times  and will need the consoling message penned in their devotions.

I couldn’t sleep that day. Joy.

Undescribable. I wasn’t even hungry, though I hadn’t eaten that day. The victory was satisfying enough. All their scheming and plotting had come to naught. Thanks to God Almighty.

The next day was a big wedding. My Aunt who lived with us was getting married. I couldn’t afford to miss the wedding. I bathed, took my breakfast and dressed up. The priest gave me some money for my transport home.

I had wanted my parents to pick me up that very day we finished the exams. But they said it was too early. The priest had accommodated me and I had to stay back a few more weeks to help with one or two things as a show of gratitude before my they finally came for me. I saw the wisdom in what they said, though I disagreed. But I complied.

But for now, I could attend the wedding and come back to the priest’s house after a few days.

The priest and his wife were invited to the wedding too, and they were getting ready to leave for the ceremony.

But I was going first to my parents’ house to change into something proper whereas the priest and his wife were headed towards the chapel.

And so, I left before them. Home.

When I got there, no one was at home. They had all left. And the place was locked. I had to sit in the corridor and wait.

There were some young people who lived in a storey on the same compound. They were very rowdy and on that day, they were playing some very loud music.

It was the same song, played over and over. I was hearing it for the first time, and I guessed from the way they were jubilant about the song, singing excitedly and putting it on repeat that it was a new song, a hit song.

I kind of liked it too. And so, I sat there silently listening, enjoying the song and its lyrics, wondering if those young girls upstairs were cool and whether we would be friends when I finally move back home.