A nineteen year old girl stands perplexed as the room full of cousins burst into laughter. Everyone is laughing, except her. She does not know what they all are laughing at. Excitedly she asks her cousin sister, “What happened? What happened?” The perplexed look on her face only results in them laughing harder. Finally one of them blurts out, “Pijjaa ! Hahahha say it once again! Pijjaa !” Everyone bursts into another round of laughter, high-fiving each other and some even rolling down the floor holding their stomachs. She looks around in confusion. Until one of her cousin's mother enters the room to check on the commotion. “Mummy, she called Pizza ‘Pijjaa' !” She says pointing towards her, seeking approval. There is an inherent sense of superiority in the way she looks at her, expecting her mother to join her. The mother hushes her off, “shhhh, it's bad manners to make fun of anybody.” Unlike her, all her cousins studied in English medium school. She did not know THAT the Difference between Pizza and Pijjaa was not merely of pronunciation, but Much More Than That. That, in a world of Pizza, ‘Pijjaa' was unforgivable, Pijjaa brought shame. The two come from two totally different planets, and their worlds never intersect. That this world applauds Pizza & shuns Pijjaa. That in the World of Pizza, Pijjaa did not Belong. That in this World Pizza had the Power to decide how ‘Pijjaa' would be treated. She earned a new name that day, the official “Behenji” of the group. She hated it from her core, she wanted to feel belonged too. But somehow, her skills, ability, talent and intelligence all got eclipsed behind the cardinal mistake. She had to pay the cost of not knowing the difference between ‘z' and ‘j'. Several years later when she gives birth, she decides her daughter is not going to face the same humiliation that she had faced. That she will send her to an English medium School. That she grows up Belonging. So then, did her daughter really grow up with a sense of Belonging ?
Kochi, thought of as a can of storm clouds, synchronies with Govind's mood. With time the once lively canvasses of his dreams had faded away and all that was left were their shadows in a neglected diary. Surfing through social media at stormy nights, each photo a glorious post card from a life he was not living, Govind felt the heartbreak. Prompted by that overwhelming desire, he messaged Neha, a ray of sunshine in his college days. A reunion was arranged. The city, engulfed in gloom, acted as the setting for their meeting at a tiny café. Govind's heart surfaced, admitting the void that had consumed him. Neha was listening with a tear rolling on her face. "Life's a cruel joke, Govind," she confessed in a faint voice. "We run after dreams that vanish when we draw too close to them. Perhaps, after all, dreams aren't that much important in the larger picture of things." Govind looked outside and the buildings blurred. Her words shattered the fragile hope clinging to him. Was this life the same as a storm, and then the return to normal routine? The café isolated him, the city lights laughing at him. It was hard to tell which day was which as they all ran into each other. Then, there was a resounding knock that broke the monotony. Here is Neha, an old photo album in her hand. It was their college album, an emblem of their dreams realized. They sat; the album a time bridge spanning years. Every old image is like a window to a time when something can be done. An image of festival, happiness glowing in the eyes of youngsters. Another, the arms slung around each other, a sign of the past closeness. Each image is like a shard of a broken mirror – reflecting joy and shattering the illusion of their imagined futures. It couldn't be the future they have been planning for. Silence was all around, only the wind mourning outside. Neha began to speak, her voice quavering. " I went back, Govind" she confessed. "Travelled, ticked things off a list. But..." That was how she saw it in Govind's eyes – the displeasure, the sense that there was no longer any magic in dreams. "It wasn't enough," she whispered. "The chasing never ends." The album fell open to a blank page – it was an abstract representation of their unfulfilled dreams. A bottomless sadness invaded Govind. They weren't only mourning their dreams; they were grieving the life they could have shared together. Neha put her hand on him, the gesture of united grief. They weren't just individuals, but rather the shattered image of what could have been. A rumble of thunder accentuated the silence. Neha stood up her chin raised and her face shining with sorrow and determination. "I am sorry, but I have to go," she said. "But Govind, perhaps life isn't about great gestures. Maybe it's these small, everyday moments, the people we meet and the love we share?" She finished and then she went but her words stayed, a small spark of hope set in the arctic of his warm heart. He gazed at the photo album and the white page before him a frightening sight. On the other hand, he was filled with gloom, but, as he tried to find it, he recalled their joint past – the laughter, the friendship, the tacit understanding that they had between them. Neha was right. Maybe life isn't about achieving the greatness. Perhaps it was about the bonds he had forged, the times he lived to the fullest, and the love he had for the people in his life. Govind was touched , a lone tear rolling down his cheek. He could no longer regain the past, but at least, he could decide to exist in the present. Maybe, yes, maybe indeed it was still possible to see beauty in the ordinary things. The rains came to an end, opening a narrow slit of moonlight. It wasn't a loud glare, but an enlightened glow, a hope for a brighter tomorrow. He approached the window, to his surprise, determination started to replace the despair. He wouldn't be a slave to his dreams but he wouldn't omit them either. He carried them with him like a memento, both a reminder of the past and a guide to the future. Kochi used to be in some sort of darken. Now, it sparkled under the pale moon. It was still alive with activity. He breathed deeply. He didn't know what would happen next, but it was the first time in a while that he felt the smallest glimpse of optimism. He might be at loose ends, but he wouldn't sink anyway. He will continue to search for meaning, for purpose, for connection and, who knows, perhaps he will find his own unique melody in the symphony of life.
Tamba Peter was borned on Sunday 4th of August 1991 in Njaa village kissi kama chiefdom kailahun District. He was borned to the parents of Mr Peter korfeh his father and madam fatu Peter the morther. Tamba Peter's family is a Neculear family who lives with his parents and four (4) of his younger brothers and single sister called kumba Peter. Tamba Peter started his early Education at K.L.D.C primary school Njaa village were he later moved to write to his National primary school examination (N.P.S.E) at Roman catholic primary school Dia. He purshued his junior secondary school level at Government junior secondary school and completed in 2012. He later went to Methodist senior secondary school kailahun where he wrote to W.A.S.S.C.E and entered the Freetown teachers college were he obtained higher teachers certificate secondary in the faculty of Accounting. Tamba Peter Tought at Government secondary school for a period of six(6) years from 2016 to present date. Tamba Peter is popularly known as Anderson among his friends due to the qualities he has such as smart, kind, honest and friendly. However, Tamba Peter is one of the outstanding youth in the kissi kama chiefdom and currently one of the main confidant to the paramount chief. He is a lovable teacher in the school he is teaching because he is an accurate and discipline teacher in the school.
In the vast expanse where stories begin, Amidst the chaos and the din, A journey unfolds, both daunting and grand, Of finding your way in this vast, sprawling land. There once was a soul, lost and adrift, In the labyrinth of life, caught in its drift. With eyes that mirrored the starlit sky, Yet within, a storm brewed, ready to defy. He wandered aimlessly, through streets unknown, His heart heavy, his spirit overthrown. In the heart of the city, where dreams take flight, He sought refuge from the endless night. Every step he took echoed a silent plea, To find his place, his sanctuary, to be free. But the city's noise drowned out his cry, As he gazed upon the endless sky. The stars above, distant and cold, Seemed to mock his struggles, untold. Yet amidst the chaos, a whisper faint, Guided him forward, through fear and constraint. Through bustling crowds and empty streets, He walked, his journey bittersweet. For every smile, every tear he shed, Led him closer to the path ahead. In the depths of despair, he found a spark, A glimmer of hope in the endless dark. With each dawn, a promise anew, That his dreams, his desires, would come true. But the road ahead was fraught with strife, Filled with trials that tested his very life. Yet he pressed on, his spirit unbroken, With faith as his guide, his words unspoken. Through storms that raged and winds that howled, He weathered the tempest, his resolve unbowed. For in the heart of adversity's snare, He found the strength to rise and dare. And so he journeyed, through valleys deep, Where shadows danced and secrets keep. He scaled the mountains, he crossed the seas, In search of a truth that would set him free. With every step, he grew stronger still, As he embraced the power of his own will. For in the crucible of pain and strife, He discovered the essence of his own life. Through laughter and tears, he learned to see, The beauty of his own humanity. For in the depths of his darkest night, He found the courage to embrace the light. And as he reached the end of his quest, He realized that he was truly blessed. For in finding his way in the big world, He had discovered the essence of his own unfurled. In the vast expanse where stories cease, He found his home, his lasting peace. For in the journey, he had come to find, That the truest home lies within, forever kind. The world may be vast, the journey long, But within us, we carry a song. A melody of hope, of love, of grace, Guiding us forward, to find our place. So when the night seems dark and cold, And the journey ahead seems bold, Remember the soul who dared to roam, And found his way, to a place called home. © Akhmedova Zakhro
Mashrafi Hossain Antu, known by his pen name Mashrafi Antu, is a rising star in the literary world of Bangladesh. Born on October 10, 2001, in Satkhira, Khulna, Bangladesh, Mashrafi has made a significant mark as a writer, poet, and lyricist at a remarkably young age. His deep-rooted connection to the culture and landscape of Bangladesh is evident in his works, which resonate with readers on a profound level. Growing up in Satkhira, Mashrafi Antu developed a keen interest in literature from a young age. His love for words and language flourished as he delved into the rich Bengali literary tradition, drawing inspiration from renowned poets and writers. With an innate talent for storytelling and a unique perspective on life, Mashrafi began crafting his own poems and prose, exploring themes of love, loss, hope, and the human experience. Mashrafi's writing style is characterized by its elegance, depth, and emotional resonance. His words have the power to transport readers to different worlds, evoking a myriad of emotions and leaving a lasting impact. Whether through poignant poetry or gripping prose, Mashrafi has the ability to capture the beauty of everyday moments and turn them into profound reflections on life and society. In addition to his literary pursuits, Mashrafi Antu is also a gifted lyricist, infusing his songs with the same passion and insight that define his poetry and prose. His lyrics are poetic gems, weaving together melodies and emotions to create compositions that linger in the hearts and minds of listeners long after the music fades. Despite his young age, Mashrafi's accomplishments as a writer, poet, and lyricist have not gone unnoticed. He has garnered praise and recognition from peers and critics alike for his exceptional talent and contribution to Bangladeshi literature and music. His works have been published in various literary magazines and anthologies, further cementing his place as a prominent voice in contemporary Bengali literature. Beyond his creative pursuits, Mashrafi Antu remains deeply rooted in his hometown of Satkhira, drawing inspiration from its people, culture, and natural beauty. His love for his homeland shines through in his writing, as he pays homage to the land that has shaped him and continues to influence his artistic journey. As Mashrafi Antu's literary career continues to unfold, there is no doubt that he will leave an indelible mark on the world of literature and music. With his boundless creativity, passion for storytelling, and unwavering commitment to his craft, he is poised to inspire generations to come and enrich the cultural landscape of Bangladesh and beyond. Mashrafi Hossain Antu, in the realm of Bengali literature. His journey into the world of words began at a tender age, nurtured by the rich literary heritage of his homeland. Satkhira, with its rustic charm and cultural vibrancy, provided the perfect backdrop for Mashrafi's creative endeavors, igniting his imagination and fueling his passion for storytelling. From an early age, Mashrafi Antu exhibited a natural gift for language and expression. His love affair with words blossomed as he immersed himself in the works of iconic Bengali poets and writers, drawing inspiration from their mastery of the craft. As he honed his skills, Mashrafi's writing evolved, reflecting his keen observations of life, love, and the human condition. What sets Mashrafi apart is not just his ability to string words together but his innate understanding of the human psyche. Through his poetry, prose, and lyrics, he delves into the depths of human emotion, unearthing truths that resonate with readers and listeners alike. Each word is carefully chosen, each sentence meticulously crafted to evoke a visceral response, leaving an indelible imprint on the soul. Mashrafi's writing is characterized by its depth and authenticity, transcending the boundaries of language and culture. His verses are infused with raw emotion, exploring themes of love, longing, despair, and redemption with unparalleled sensitivity and insight. Whether capturing the ephemeral beauty of a fleeting moment or delving into the complexities of the human heart, Mashrafi's words have a timeless quality that transcends generations. In addition to his literary pursuits, Mashrafi Antu is also a gifted lyricist, lending his poetic touch to the world of music. His lyrics, set to haunting melodies, have struck a chord with audiences across Bangladesh and beyond, earning him acclaim for his ability to marry poetry with melody seamlessly. Despite his growing stature as a literary and musical prodigy, Mashrafi remains grounded in his roots, finding inspiration in the everyday rhythms of life in Satkhira. He is a proud ambassador of his homeland, using his platform to shine a spotlight on its cultural richness and natural beauty.
Life is meant to be lived before it is too late. Treasure those poetic moments, you will never experience them twice. ( Poem recited on YouTube) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HfzslNFaEn0&t=17s Please like, share and subscribe to the channel.
We spotted tokyo out with her new boo,at the #christiandior store in #phipps plaza or possibly someone else's 😂 a tall #indian guy judging by his religious attire could be from #arabia or #india #theblaktokyo #tokyo🎋🪴🫕🍜🍱🍣 #whoistheblaktokyo #weluvtokyo #memoirsoftheblaktokyo #bigtokyo #celebrityblogger #bloggertheblaktokyo #thablaktokyo #christiandior #PhippsMall…..congrats to your new thang 😘
There is not a single day here in the village of Maroź. Night followed by constant night is all the townspeople know. Daytime is a myth, a legend at this point. Not a single soul alive has seen, or felt the sun on their face. Cold dreary days are all that we have to look forward too. Until the prophecy of old is fulfilled that is. The elders in our village have passed down this tale for decades. A young man on his 21st birthday will come into his magic and enter the spirit realm where he will stand the test against time. He is to save the Sun Goddess who has been lost to the spirit realm, a prisoner of the dark spectral world. She has been gone for so long, no one believes in her story anymore. The start of the end of this tale, begins now. The rain was beating so hard upon the ceiling, the wood slats couldn't squeeze tight enough for the moisture to not penetrate. The liquid, making its way down the posts, dropped onto Koulders face. Waking him for the tenth time that night. He just wanted to sleep past midnight and get his birthday over with. Ever since his mother passed away he has not had much motivation to enjoy these days. He decides to sit up and think. It was all he was good at anymore. It didn't get him very far nor did it get his mind off hard subjects. Trauma was his way of life, all he knew. All he would ever be. He would have laid back down and drifted off had it not been for a short rap on his door. Filled with a sense of anxiety at a social visit, Koulder made his way to the door. There stood a hooded figure drenched from the nights torrents. Koulder slammed the door shut and locked it. He didn't know who that was and he wasn't prepared to find out. He just wanted to go back to sleep. Another rap much louder then the first sent him throwing the door open and demanding the visitor state his business. The hood came down. There stood a woman of middle age, with long brown locks tied up in a bun. She stated she was cold wet and hungry and asked if Koulder could help her. Unable to turn the poor creature away he invited her in. Once inside the woman was no longer a mere woman. A sorceress, old and evil and of the spirit realm had just entered his domain, knowing very well who Koulder is and the prophecy he doesn't know, that's about to kick in. She attacks Koulder with his back to her, holding him by his neck against a wall. He doesn't know what to think everything happened so quickly. She is too strong to pry off of him and the evil dead stare in her eyes was all too much for him Koulder passed out from the anxiety of the situation. Waking up, Koulder is surrounded by a thick white fog. He is not in the dwelling he knows so well. Feeling full of energy all of a sudden, he gets up to investigate. As he stands he here's a woman scream. Wanting to investigate he heads to where he heard her. Flying ghostly apparitions appear left and right, Koulder is realizing he is in the spirit world that his master had warned him about. Go head to head with a Banshee and she could send you to the spirit world where it's hard to remember who and why you are while she she dines on your body in the waking world. Koulder was lucid enough to remember his masters words. His magic hadn't grown in him yet so he was unprotected in a hostile world. Reaching the area he heard the scream he is blinded by a light so bright he can't even comprehend what it is. Behind the light, the silhouette of a very beautiful and naked woman stood trembling. She sees Koulder and begs him to leave before the Tempest returned. An evil old banshee more powerful than the simple monster he has encountered. Seeing her standing there vulnerable broke something inside him. In just a short time Koulder, who has surely turned 21 by now, was rudely awoken by the angry leaking sky, attacked by a banshee and sent to a creepy land to come across a beautiful naked angel and she is terrified. Too much has happened to make him just turn away. Focusing and breathing, he can feel the power surge inside him. Something is awakening. He won't run. He will get his peace and rest. He will save this woman. Knowing the realm has a portal from past stories, Koulder and the mysterious woman set out to find it. Aware the tempest could catch them at any moments notice. Before the left he set a trap for the old banshee so she wouldn't be able to follow them. The bright woman told a story as old as time itself tho it felt like hours to her. She was kidnapped from her home in the sky. Forced to live in darkness so the banshee could have full domination in the dark. She was the Sun Goddess. Recognizing Koulder was the man to fulfil the prophecy, the bright lady touched his forehead. Power shot out of his head and into the sky above him, illuminating the space between them. He was the lamp to her light. Thru the portal she kills the banshee and together they bring the sun back to a world lost to the dark for way too long.
Being voiceless in the grand narrative of our world's events is a profound challenge, as the relentless march of human dominance continues to overshadow the plight of those without the power to speak up. Throughout the annals of history, humanity's footprint on the Earth has been marked more by acts of destruction than preservation. It commenced with the cataclysmic horrors of nuclear warfare and the devastating impact of atomic bombs, tragedies that elicited vocal outcry from our species, but left the voices of countless other creatures unheard. While we, as human beings, have always found our voices to advocate for our kind, the same cannot be said for the myriad of wildlife species that inhabit our planet. The cries of the monkeys, the roars of the lions, the stealthy prowls of the tigers—these voices have been drowned out by our own, relegated to the sidelines of discourse and action. We may consider ourselves the custodians of the ecosystem, but what of the other tenants who share this planet with us? From the microscopic organisms dwelling in our oceans to the majestic creatures roaming the savannas, we have systematically dismantled and disregarded their habitats, pushing them closer to the brink of extinction with each passing day. As the global dialogue surrounding climate change gains momentum, much of the focus remains fixated on reducing carbon emissions and mitigating environmental degradation. Yet, conspicuously absent from this discourse is a concerted effort to safeguard and enhance the natural habitats of wildlife. How can we claim to be making progress towards achieving the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) when we overlook the fundamental importance of preserving biodiversity and restoring balance to fragile ecosystems? Surveying the current state of our planet's ecosystem, it becomes alarmingly clear that many terrestrial species are teetering on the precipice of oblivion. Without a voice to advocate on their behalf, they rely solely upon our collective stewardship to shield them from the perils posed by human activity. It falls upon us, as guardians of this planet, to rise to the challenge and enact meaningful change to ensure their survival for generations to come. In addressing the systemic threats facing wildlife populations, we must first confront the root causes of their decline. Habitat destruction, driven by urbanization, deforestation, and industrial expansion, stands as one of the foremost threats to biodiversity. By prioritizing the conservation and restoration of natural habitats, we can provide sanctuary for imperiled species and mitigate the irreversible loss of biodiversity. Furthermore, we must reckon with the pervasive impacts of pollution and environmental degradation on wildlife populations. From plastic pollution suffocating marine life to toxic chemicals contaminating terrestrial habitats, human-induced pollution poses a grave threat to the health and well-being of countless species. Through concerted efforts to reduce our ecological footprint and implement sustainable practices, we can safeguard the integrity of ecosystems and mitigate the detrimental effects of pollution on wildlife. Equally imperative is the need to address the interconnectedness of ecosystems and the cascading effects of species loss. The extinction of one species can trigger a domino effect, disrupting delicate ecological balance and imperiling entire ecosystems. By recognizing and preserving the intricate web of life that sustains our planet, we can foster resilience in the face of environmental challenges and safeguard biodiversity for future generations. Moreover, we must acknowledge the inherent value of wildlife beyond their instrumental utility to human society. Each species, no matter how seemingly inconsequential, plays a unique and irreplaceable role in the tapestry of life. From pollinating crops to regulating ecosystems, wildlife provides invaluable ecological services that are essential to the health and functioning of our planet. By embracing a holistic ethic of conservation that respects the intrinsic worth of all living beings, we can forge a more sustainable and harmonious relationship with the natural world. In conclusion, the imperative to protect and preserve wildlife extends far beyond mere moral obligation—it is an essential prerequisite for the survival of our planet and future generations. As stewards of this Earth, we possess both the power and the responsibility to safeguard biodiversity and ensure the continued existence of all living creatures. By amplifying the voices of the voiceless and championing the cause of wildlife conservation, we can forge a path toward a more equitable and sustainable future for all.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CVRNRZVL Soulful Rhapsody: Step into a world where each note is a heartfelt expression, and every melody weaves a tale of love and longing. "Soulful Rhapsody" is not just a collection of poems; it is a symphony of emotions, an ode to the enduring power of love. Read one of the poems below: I hope you enjoy it. Innamorare The Italian prudent in a small town in Italy Tells us his story A tale about his lost love So callously Slipped through His fingers. He's caught in a tirade Of wishful thoughts Innamorare he declares Is both a curse and a bane A malevolent affection One he foresees As a misfortune. Would he perhaps be right? Not even the picturesque setting Before where he rests His weary feet From his long fatigued travails In search of his Wandering thoughts Gone astray just as his lost mind Has reduced him to madness For a woman's sweet love. Ah, he sees her now among the clouds A tiny pearl at first And then a wondrous sight Of a beautiful outline Of a sensuous woman. Then she was gone. His heart clutched at his bosom Would he find among the throes That walk upon this mighty Earth One as beautiful as her? He had seen her once before Only Once And it was enough To set his heart on fire For a lifetime. -end- Get a copy as a tribute to Valentine's Day A book for lovers to gift, or a keepsake to relive the magic of love. And, if you do, please leave a review. I'd love to hear from you.
Thank you very much for participating in the Biopage Storytelling Writing Contest! The results are now available on the contest webpage: https://www.biopage.com/contest It was a very difficult decision to make! We received many high-quality essays from around the world, it was so difficult to pick the winners. We have “Children of war” from Shobana and “Peace is priceless” from David to reflect the ongoing wars in the world. We have “Where there is will, there is a way” from Shreya, “The warmth of the garden” from Brandon, and “Is it me?” from Emilia to describe their experience with mental disorders. We have “Gifts of December” from Lily about the lighter note of life. And we have “Seed of greatness” from Stephene about hope and growth in poetry! The winners will receive separate emails regarding award certificates and prizes. We are sorry that most of you will be disappointed; but remember you are all winners! Many participants appreciated the contest as an opportunity to stay away from the noisy social media, to really start writing again to express themselves and to tell stories. Please keep in mind that this is a recurrent contest; you are welcome to write another story and submit again! Please continue to stay in the community of Biopage, using the website or more conveniently the iOS app or Android app to continue to write, and to stay in touch with your friends and other writers. If you use the iOS app or Android app, please rate and write a review at the App Store or Google Play. We are giving out an Amazon gift card to each user who wrote a review about Biopage at the App Store. Please email admin@biopage.com with your App Store or Google Play ID name and a screenshot of the review, and the gift card may arrive in 2 weeks. A certificate of participation of the writing contest will be available upon request by email. Thank you and happy writing! The Biopage Writing Contest Committee
When you are the sun, I am the moon. The space is our stage, Our audience is the Earth. Where you are the heroine, And I am the hero. You are the source that illuminates me, Without you, I am nothing more than a normal rock. I may be closer to our audience, But without you, they cannot exist. As we dance around the earth, It gets emotional and cries like a child, creating the oceans. The oceans also have their highs and lows because of us. Sometimes the Earth gets jealous of us, And comes between us, Which makes me angry and makes me turn red. Our audience will see my different phases As I revolve around them and While they revolve around you.
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"Gooooaaaalllllllll!", Screams filled the air, with many fists pumping in joy. I jumped up and down a few times, the happiness threatening to burst out of me. Ademola Lookman, the number 18 forward just sealed Nigeria's place in the quarter-finals in the AFCON tournament, handing us a 2-0 win against longtime rivals, Cameroon. One particular Nigerian player stood out during the game. He commanded the ball like it was an extension of himself in fluid, graceful movements, cut through the opponent's defense like a hot knife through butter. His reputation as the "king of goals" precedes him. The most expensive African player of all time with a club-record fee of $92million, according to a reputable Nigerian news outlet. He has achieved international fame and recognition, awarded the 2023 African player of the year award after various exploits at club level. He is none other than Victor Osimhen, bearer of number 9 jersey, Nigeria's golden boy. His success has eclipsed his traumatic upbringing, marred by poverty and gruelling laborious work. He used to live in a makeshift house near a dumpsite and lost his mother at an early age. His father, saddled with the responsibility of raising and providing for 7 young children lost his job all of a sudden. Throwing the entire family into an unending cycle of hunger, uncertainty, and extreme poverty. He and his siblings had to take on menial jobs and hawking, surviving on daily wages, unsure of when their next meal would be. He risked his life severally while selling sachet water in traffic, often chasing after moving vehicles. In spite of the bleak situation, he didn't give up on his passion, football. The day he was selected for the 2015 U-17 FIFA world cup marked a turning point for him. He showcased raw talent and led the team to victory, winning the golden boot and silver ball awards for his exemplary performance. He would later win the CAF young player of the year for 2015. It was not all rosy as he experienced some challenges along the way that threatened to bring his budding career to an abrupt halt. He sustained injuries and had to undergo multiple surgeries with a subsequent decline in his performances. Rejected by clubs that had at first showed keen interest, he refused to be weighed down and continued training. By a stroke of luck and hardwork, he was signed by Sporting Charleroi where his career effectively took off. Currently, he plays for Napoli and earns £10.9million annually. Everytime I come across him on the news, internet or watch him perform magic on the pitch, I am reminded of someone who vehemently refused to let his background impact his life. I am inspired by his goal-getter attitude and cheerful outlook on life generally , in spite of obvious limitations. I think the saying, "you can achieve anything you put your mind to", is cliche but he embodies it in every sense.
It was the first of October. Some would say its just a new paper to flip through a calendar. Was it? My lips curved before I could stop myself. For the first time, I didn't regret waking up to see another day. *** 5 years ago I picked up a smooth, flat pebble from the edge of the greenish lake and studied its weight in my hand before launching it into the water. The surface broke beneath its impact, sending ripples out in all directions. As I watched, the ripples grew weaker and eventually disappeared. Suddenly, I wanted that pebble back. But I knew even if I got it back, I would still toss my favorite pebble into the lake again, just to see how far it could go compared to the others. As I sighed, I couldn't help but think about how small and insignificant one thing could seem in comparison to everything else in life. "Why are you always so reckless?" my mama would say. I silently laughed over the irony; Mama never used to be independent, but made it look like I was the one who made her lose everything. Did I? I looked down at the distorted blurry reflection of me on the surface of the frozen water. Ah, I wonder what it would feel like to be frozen in time like this lake... I closed my eyes, momentarily reveling in the winter air, yearning for a well-deserved nap. And then, the silence shattered. A distant sobbing reached my ears, cutting through the tranquillity like a blade. Panicked, my eyes snapped open. The source eluded my vision, but the cries continued with —aching bones and…and need for help…. There was blood on my hands. Everywhere. Was it mine? A bird called. Bird sounds? I looked down, there was no blood on my hands. Was I hallucinating again? I am going crazy. The sound of tears falling onto the lake water made me realise this was reality again. The girl was crying at the lake? I hadn't even bothered to check the banks. Then there she was. Her eyes were filled with tears and red and puffy, but oh god. Perhaps she was both the moon, the sun and the stars. Because it seems my eyes were lying to me. A few watery hiccups broke my trance, or disturbing astonishment at her beauty. Should I really approach her..? Will I seem like a prat for ruining her crying session? Will she get angry and throw a rock at me for being nosy? I went behind her quietly and lightly tapped her shoulder. “Hey,” I paused awkwardly. Suddenly I got alarmed as she became still, like a statue that has been caught moving. This is why I should not be in the place of comforting a person, no matter how bad I feel for her. The uncertainty faded as determination settled in. If I risked a rock to the face, so be it. "uh…" I gestured toward her tears, avoiding direct eye contact. "Are you crying?" Never mind. I should get thrown in the lake instead of a rock thrown at my face. She didn't say anything but wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, so I gave her a few minutes. Eventually, she cleared her throat and mumbled, “No, I am sorry. You must have been resting here and I...." She hiccuped. "..definitely ruined your time.” I looked at her in disbelief. She was worried about me being annoyed rather than being mad at me for being nosy? "I'm really sorry," her voice broke on the last word. "Why are you sorry?" The words escaped my lips abruptly. She blinked once, bemused. "For ruining your time." Shaking my head, I dismissed her apology. "You didn't, so stop saying sorry." She was so nice, that I was considering every one of my moments on earth, that it was even justified. "That's good then." A vague response, but given the circumstances, it sufficed. "Did something happen, though? Rant to me if you want. Actually you know, you should. You will find a boy like me once in a hundred years just like a comet, who will want to listen to someone's rant beside a lake like this. " I offered a half-smile and a thumbs-up. It had been 60 seconds, and she just stared at me. At this point, I can hear crows cawing in the background and the sound of water dripping awkwardly. I…didn't say anything wrong did I? “uhm, I meant that I am just really busy that's all…” To my astonishment, she burst out laughing. The sight of her laughing made me laugh too. “You're really…” She gasped between her violent laughs, “funny. Yeah, really funny. Please be my friend, a random boy who comes once in a hundred years.” It was the first of October when I met her.