HELLOOOOOOOO, IT'S ME.

Dearest Gentle Readerrrrrrr,

How do you say graduate in Igbo? (Nothing concern this Illah girl with Spanish.) Maybe “gladgete,” the way Odumeje says it, but either way, your girl is now a BSc holder. Somebody hold me because I can’t hold myself.

Can you tell I’m excited? If you can’t, well, I am. I am literally over the moon.

I just finished reading one of my favourite newsletters, and it motivated me to write to you because the letter asked how my week was. So, rather than replying under their comment section, I decided to tell you. I know I haven’t written to you in forever, and we have a lot of catching up to do, which we will. Hopefully, I keep my promise to myself and start writing to you more often.

But before I continue, do me a big favour, will you? Open your music streaming app and play “See What the Lord Has Done” by Nathaniel Bassey. Whether you are Christian or not, please. I’ll wait.

Have you done that?

Okay then.

Let’s get straight to it.

Last Sunday, or maybe two Sundays ago, at a family meeting with all my family members, whom I love very much, I got the courage to ask some of  them what they would gift me if I graduated with a first class. The truth is, no matter how positive I looked while asking that question, I wasn’t quite sure, that's why I didn't say it to everyone. 400 level had been a lot. Actually, that is an understatement.

 I had lost myself somewhere along the way. There were days when I felt like I was doing everything and nothing at the same time. I didn’t even check my first-semester results because I had a feeling they had dropped, and I was too scared to confirm it.

So when I asked my family that question or I made the post below on Substack, I was asking from a place of hope, not certainty.

Then, on Saturday, the 8th of August, almost a week later, while scrolling the streets of Snapchat, I saw a result meme on my friend’s story. I stopped. Results ke? On a Saturday morning? 

Who releases results on the weekend to ri olorun? 

So I asked her and she confirmed that results had dropped that morning. But that wasn’t the only thing that dropped when I heard the news. My heart dropped to my stomach. And suddenly, the fact that I was trying to decide what to eat became irrelevant.

I ran to tell my friends that results were out. I was breathing so hard. Hello?? It was 10 a.m. on a Saturday! I wanted to eat before I saw my result, but the hunger vanished and anxiety took over. I don’t think I had ever been that scared to check a result in my life.

Then my friend Kamsi texted me:

“Immaculataaaaaaa.”

And I knew. 

God abeg.

My heart doubled in its race to escape my body. I asked her if she had checked hers. She said yes. And then I asked the question that had been sitting somewhere in my chest:

“Is it what we prayed for?”

She said yes. And tears rolled down my cheeks. They were tears of relief for my friend, but I was still filled with so much uncertainty about my own result. I had said I would make a cute video of myself checking my final result. You know those videos where you record yourself refreshing the page, then cover your mouth dramatically when you see the result?

Yeah, that kind.

 I did. But it was not "cute". It was filled with tears. I cried so much, as if I was trying to release something I had been carrying for months. I cried until I could barely breathe, and the only thing that could escape my mouth was:

“See what the Lord has done. Ohhh, see what the Lord has done. What we waited for has come to pass.”

I knelt down amidst my tears, I was thankful. Because it wasn’t by my power. It wasn’t because of how much I had read. It wasn’t even because of how much effort I had put in. Sure, I had worked hard. I had stayed up late. I had written papers, done assignments, attended classes and shown up even on days when I did not feel like myself. I had done my part. 

But more so, It was God.

Because there were so many moments when my part did not feel like enough. So many  moments  especially in my final year when I was simply tired. Exhausted, to say the least, emotionally and physically. I was handling executive positions in school. I was fighting for my life and everything I believed in while writing my thesis. I was trying to stay afloat. 

Even after exams were over, I carried so much uncertainty about what the final result would say. I cried so much after my final defence. All the plans I had made for that day ended in hot tears on my bed, under my blanket. I refused to talk to anyone. My defence outfit didn’t come. I was called in before my turn. And I left the defence convinced that I had underperformed. All the transitions and videos I had imagined making with my friends ended before they even began. There were no pictures either, because when I don’t want to remember a day, I don’t take pictures.

So, the following Sunday, when I dolled myself up for my department’s thanksgiving, it was because I had decided that, no matter what happened, I would take those pictures. I had already placed my defence in the hands of God. And thank God I did. Many thanks to my friends for taking the most beautiful pictures and to my designer for my beautiful outfit.

Because now, those pictures are evidence of my testimony (look them up on insta).

So let me re-introduce myself: Nwabuzor Ndubunma Immaculata, BSc. Mass Communication and Media Studies, First-Class Honours.

Yes.

FIRST-CLASS HONOURS, for those at the back.

Now, I would love to give you tips and tricks on how to attain a first-class degree because where better to get first-class advice, if not from a first-class graduate?

But honestly?

I don’t even know what to tell you.

I have no “five things you must do if you want to graduate with a first class” tip because omooooooooo,

God did.

But what I do have is a wish list for all the things that I want because convocation expenses aren't joking around.

Lots of love,

The Latest first-class graduate in town,

Bunma💕