Esther Ngumbi - Number 38 to 3

 

It's visiting day, and I'm waiting for my one pair of uniforms to dry. I only have one pair of uniforms, because my parents, who are teachers and farmers as well, are investing everything they have for my education. After what seems like eternity, finally, my one pair of uniforms dries. I grab it, I wear it and I quickly jet out of my dormitory. I glance the crowd. I don't see my family. “Where's my mother? What happened to my mother?” I'm beginning to get sad. Tears are flowing from my cheeks. 

 

All of a sudden, my mother appears. There she comes, dressed in a hot pink dress. She looks beautiful. Oh, that pink just pops against her black, beautiful face. I run into her, and I grab her and I hug her. And for two minutes, all we are doing is embracing and hugging each other. I hold her hands and I lead her to a beautiful place. We sit down and we start to catch up. She asks me, “My daughter, how have you been doing?” I say, “I'm doing very well.” But deep down I know I'm lying. I've not been doing well. 

 

Actually, instead of studying hard, I've been talking with the other students. I'm not studying at all. Then she tells me, “My daughter, do you know the gift that your poor mother can give is the gift of education. It is a tool to end poverty.” I say, “Yes ma'am.” It's 04:00 PM, and she must go home because she traveled three hours to get to my school. I hug her, and off goes my mama in a hot pink dress. 

 

Three weeks later, we do our end of semester examinations. And the results come out. I am position 38 out of 100. It's clearly reflected what I've been doing all semester long. I look at my report card. Clearly, I cannot take it home. I cannot take this report card to my mama. So, I look at the numbers. There's a three and eight. I quickly think, perhaps if I take an eraser, I can erase the eight. Behold, I'll have a three. 

 

I do just what my small brain tells me. [audience laughter] I grab the eraser, I erase the eight and I have a three. Now, I've jumped from position 38. I'm the third in my class. It's a quick fix. [audience laughter] I take my report card and I go home. I give it to my mother, she looks at it, she says, “Thank you, my daughter. Congratulations.” And I go on to enjoy my holiday. 

 

Three weeks later, it's opening day. And the night before, my mother calls me. She says, “My daughter, I want to accompany you to school tomorrow.” This is something out of the ordinary, because my mother has never ever taken me to school. Why, all of a sudden, she wants to accompany me to school? Perhaps, something has changed. 

 

Morning comes and we take off with my mother. We go on our three-hour journey. When we get to school, I'm expecting another warm hug from my mother and then I'm expecting that she'll say, “Bye, my daughter.” She says, “My daughter, by the way, I want us to go to your headmistress office.” I'm beginning to get nervous. [audience laughter] I'm thinking, something is wrong. 

 

So, we go. We get to the headmistress office, and the headmistress welcomes us and she sits. She gives us a seat. My mother sits right there and I sit right. Before I know it, my mother pulls her report card and she puts it on the front of my head teacher's table. She says, “Can I know how my daughter did in her examinations?” So, my mother has a 3. My headmistress has a 38. Clearly, my lies have come to an end. [audience laughter] 

 

By now, we are three of us who know this lie. I'm crouching. I want the earth to swallow me alive. I'm expecting a few blows, a few slaps. Instead, my mother, with tears flowing through her cheeks, she gently looks at my eye, straight through my eye, she says to me, “My daughter, I believe in you. When I brought you up, you were an intelligent girl. It's not too late. Rise up.” 

 

As soon as she stops talking, something snaps. A switch has been flipped. My mother believes in me even after have taken her through this ordeal. Yes, she believes in me. And by now, I want to prove her, and prove myself and the headmistress that it's not too late. I start waking up at 05:00. I go to the class. I go and start reading. I start asking questions in my class. I begin to get curious. I begin to ask for more homework from my teachers. And by now, I have a new nickname at school. I'm called a Book Warmer, because I'm spending every minute, every second with a book I'm reading. 

 

End of semester comes, we do our examinations. And when the results come out, this time I am position three. [audience laughter] Hooray. [audience laughter] It paid. My hard work paid off. So, I quickly just want to rush. I want to jet to my mother. I want to go and show her my report card. Semester after semester, I continue to do well. Eventually, we sit for our high school national examinations. And when the results come out, I am the best girl. 

 

I go to college. I can't get enough of books. I'm learning farming, agriculture and doing science. And on a beautiful summer day, I walk across the stage and I receive my doctorate degree in entomology. On that day, my mother could not join me. She sends me the most beautiful letter. It reads, “My daughter, even though we are separated by distance, we are with you. When you wear that prestigious gown, you deserve it. It's yours.” 

 

And she attaches a picture of me when I was young. She says, “I began to trace your deeds right from when you were young. You looked intelligent. When you went to high school, your teachers worried about you. You emerged the best. When you went to college, you graduated earlier than your mates. Congratulate yourself on our behalf. I love you dearly, Mama.”

 

Today I'm a researcher, I'm a scientist, I am a mentor. And when I'm moving around and wearing my hot pink dress [audience laughter] and inspire other farmers, I look into them through their eyes, I say, “I believe in you.” Thank you.