FILL YOUR OWN MOULD
By Emeka Nobis

I had boasted to Ikenna and my classmates that I could play the number five position in football. That was borne out of envy because Ikenna's football skills were hailed. I decided to tame his mouth. That was in 1992, my second year of secondary school at Marist Comprehensive Academy, Okigwe.

I became the last substitution in the fifth minute of the second half of a match our school played with a neighbouring school. That meant I couldn't be replaced anymore. It was absolute tomfoolery. I ran around the pitch in a pattern similar to pollen grains in water. I couldn't even trap the ball, mostly letting it pass through the hollow of my legs to the opponents. I was playing what was called "Shorting one" in our local parlance. Football wasn't just my forte. For me, it was eating the desert before the entrée in a four-course meal. 

But it was different when I handled a pen and a sheet of paper. I could write essays that won competitions. It was fun too.
Nobody arrived here fully assembled like a car coming out of an assembly plant. It will scare you to your wits to know that we will depart still not fully assembled. The more we travel the paths that reveal the unknown, the more we realise that we are further away from full comprehension. But be rest assured that each one of us came with hotspots wired into our DNA.

Your gift oozes from you so naturally that it doesn't take a flicker for you to express it. You do it with such passion that others see the deftness of your touch.

Discover what's yours. Hone it. Let it evince hope and blessedness. Become legendary!

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