BELIEVE IN YOURSELF: From charcoal monger to School owner

It's necessary that you get losers off your life if you want to succeed.

Burning charcoal in the forest

Amelia 'Nigila' in her Lera Academy office

From the school musical band to the Science gurus of Chandri High school, Nigila (an abbreviation of Luo Words " Nind gi Lawi" -which is the name she called herself) was always conspicuously missing. This was by design, she was jovial and outgoing pupil in her primary school, an average student to say the least. She had performed well in her final primary certificate exams and was poised for a national high school.
However, her story begins in the compound of her father's homestead, the grass thatched houses with almost half the roof leaking. This is what they called home.The torn and dirty pieces of clothes heaped outside LERA ACADEMY reminds me of Nigila's patched uniforms with stains from charcoal wood that deprived the world of her beauty. She had never attended the weekend classes though we did not worry or care about it... She was 'ugly dirty and unkempt'. We therefore did not want any association with her.
Last evening my son came from school and told me this: "Daddy you do not achieve in this world what you want but what you are". I was perplexed, I asked why he said that and how he might have figured it out. I hope you are also thinking about this, yeah???????
Ask me where Nigila went every weekend. Thanks. She was sweating in deep forest cutting this tree after this tree as she helped her father Majuala burn the charcoal. This was their livelihood, something to feed her eight siblings and the ever pregnant mother.How could she come to school on Saturday? To do what? how was she going to feed and get school fees? Besides why should a girl be so dedicated in a male stuff?
As she sits on her leather swinging chair in an air conditioned room, Nigila looks at me and smiles. Lera Acaademy is the giant in the hood and only well-to-do families can afford the school fees. I don't say I do.I don't want to brag but my son studies here. I have come to commit myself in writing to clear the last terms's fee balance.
The great madam Amelia's desk is academically decorated, an apple laptop with golden color glitters at me as she points to me a seat to her left. I humbly sink in the comfort of  leather cased chair struggling to smile with a thank you hymn from my dry mouth. This thick cocktail-like juice has a profound scent that savors through my nostrils like a benediction after a faithful prayer. I wish it would be mine. I wish I could have  a taste. Am trying not to call the madam by her childhood name Nigila. This new life brings the forgotten names back, She's not that Stingy Nigila, or maybe she doesn't look like her. she is prettier, gorgeous,sexy and classy. Am trying not to get into the temptation, so I silently recite the Lord's prayer as she wheels the chair to pick a phone call. Am staring at the 'swollen' skin on her hip-line, her peplum blouse is waving momentarily exposing the mystery of her cleavage. Eeeeeish! don't swallow your saliva yet swallow your pride. There's something you haven't done in your life, you got to realize it! you got to do it! Don't just sit there.

Back to Nigila's story: She believed in herself, she always knew she was in the staircase, though  lower. She needed energy to help her climb up - to help her weather the ridicule - to set her aside so as to be different. She chose to work and maybe her  name Amalia had the motivation to that effect.

Nigila's high school examination results came in February time whilst she was away. It wasn't impressive. If it were mine, God forbid, my father could have forced me to rewind fourth form. Her life had hit a snag, her hopes dashed, she was done. No future no life.Her hope to experience how to be rich, how to own a car, how to dwell in the house on the other side was depleted.
The lady she was working for as house-help during this time had 'deported' her back to the village.The reality of failure was slowly downing on her. Multitude of thoughts bombarded her. It was time to put her act together and do what others wont do in order to be successful.Her savings from ex job secured her new panga, an axe and enough to pay two boys who would help her in the charcoal burning.
The business began, Nigila drowned herself in the job, dirtied her hands and believed in one thing."I will make it possible". As they say all is history, Nigila, Madam Amalia is turning the chair and telling me in a low tone, "Abong'o... look!! we all are not finished products.. we a work-in-progress. I own this academy to remedy my own past troubles in education, to quench my thirst. Though I was average student I still could do better than the wealthy A students of our times".
So I dare you today, Look at yourself in the mirror and apprise yourself, "Its not over until I win".