Published on July 13th, 2018 | by Dami Wande0
Success; Everyone’s Favourite Mountain
I had a tough call picking a first topic or focus,
Domestic violence or hustle.
Well, I’m guessing you guessed right. I picked hustle.
There’s so much to write on on hustle which makes it hard to pinpoint.
It’s like shopping for a wedding dress or trying to pick out stuff off of the grocery list your pregnant wife wrote out for you (you definitely don’t want to mess that up!) Or trying to pick what movie to see (with TAG and OCEAN 8 as options).
I’m sure we all get the point.
This was a tough decision.
Moving on, trust you had a wonderful day, do have a nice read.
As a student, you get to witness first hand what you think is “hustle”.
We’ve got people trying different things out, it’s anything for the money, anything to “blow”.
Taking all that in along with the early morning sun that hit my face reminding me that school was on holidays (forced). They gave some funny excuse to get us out of school.
The choked atmosphere, one of the things that make you want to run back into the claws of school, I woke and looked over the balcony to examine the neighborhood.
“Looks pretty safe to me” I shrugged plugging in my ear plugs and preparing to head out for an early morning jog.
Pretty much as expected my mom made a fuss about running with earplugs plugged in.
I reduced the volume just to reassure her that I could hear her loud and clear with both plugged in. And again you guessed right!
I turned it back up as soon as I got outside my gate.
I started jogging from the ojuelegba bridge down to the stadium when I noticed the weirdest thing.
Not to rain on anyone’s parade or anything but I don’t get why people live with double identities. Personally, I think it’s stressful. I mean it’s not like you work for the FBI or anything. We’re in Nigeria!!! Even they find it stressful.
Back in school, there’s this girl who’s always up early in the morning same time I get up to jog but that’s not the weird part.
It’s the fact that that was like the time for what’s it called…it was like a routine pee break time. Everyday throughout the semester. And now I just figured out why.
So at night, this girl comes alive and I mean really comes alive. She’s a totally different person from who I see in the morning.
In the morning, she’s like a torn, broken, beat up girl hanging on to life so hard it’s killing her.
At night? No!!!! She puts on confidence like an expensive fur jacket. Her lipstick could be seen from seven continents away. She’s what you’d call “popping”.
I have never tried to say hi but I think I just might now.
“Hi” I begin.
For some weird reason, she acts like she doesn’t know me.
I mean from what I’ve said we all know it’s acting right?
She doesn’t seem ashamed or anything but she just doesn’t seem like a conversation is what she’d like.
Persistently pushing on, I got her engaged in a conversation.
She had taken off a major part of her “popping” Aura…her wig!!!
She had her hair woven primary school girl style.
“Do you live here?” I think I over stepped my boundaries with that one from the look in her eyes but she kept calm.
“No, I just sell corn and pear for my mom.” She paused.
“She’s sick. I mean it’s what I do during the holidays. I sell pepper and other things” her voice clear and not breaking a sweat.
I felt intimidated. She had her head held high.
“What’s wrong with your mom?” My nosy self was online.
“You have to stop this” I mentally warn myself.
“Cancer. She has cancer. Cervical cancer.” It broke her this time.
Half regretful, I apologise but she reassures me that it’s fine.
So I obviously missed out on my jogging routine for today.
After playing detective for over two hours, I was able to unravel a couple of things. Some of which I can’t share with you but most of it would inspire you.
I need to head back home before mama starts to worry and call my phone.
Back at home, I narrated everything to my mom.
Her name is Prisca by the way. Prisca was being sponsored through school by her uncle and it was just her first year (hard to believe her age from her size).
She (typical university story) met up with the… Call them wrong set of people.
Started going up and about trying to save up money to help her mom out.
According to her, men were willing to throw away cash (I mean it’s late in the night with club lights and alcohol messing with their heads) and make her happy, Take her shopping and what not but she’d turn some of them down or just rather collect money.
Her dad was an under paid government worker that hadn’t been paid for 5months but still worked regardless.
All she wanted was to take care of her mom. She recently found out that there was no cure and she wondered what life held for her.
Was everything she did worth it?
She was torn between letting go or moving on.
She had 6 siblings. She was the second.
Why such a large family?
The younger ones handled selling drinks in traffic after school, bread and beans in the morning before going to school, bread and akara in the night.
They ran shifts.
This sounded like a business enterprise only in a lowly manner to me.
She felt bad that she couldn’t help out everyday.
She wanted to do this.
All along, I just thought this story would make me snort.
Hustle indeed has different reasons. This was hers.
The hunger for success is the motivation to hustle regardless of the risks.
She knew what she was going for.
She didn’t care what she had to do.
She didn’t let self pity get in her way.
Prisca had no idea how much she motivated me that morning. It was so much better than the jog I was meant to have.
Hope this was a nice one. See you when the next one drops.