The day I found my name missing from the scholarship list and saw my lecturer's nephew on top

Back in my second year, second semester. Harmattan was hitting hard, I was sleeping on the floor because my mattress foam had flattened completely. But I was topping my class, 4.2 GPA. My mother in Awka had started telling everyone her son will win the departmental scholarship.

I even called her one evening and said, 'Mama, just prepare to hear good news.' She was so happy, she sent me extra 3,000 naira for meat that week.

Then the list came out. Pinned on the departmental notice board at 10am on a Wednesday. My friend Chinedu saw it first and called me. 'Emeka, come and see something.'

My name wasn't there. The winner was the Head of Department's nephew. The boy had 3.8 GPA. I had 4.2. Everyone in my class knew it.

I stood there staring at the list for maybe 10 minutes. One of my classmates, Ngozi, came and touched my shoulder and said, 'Emeka, sorry o.' That was when I knew everyone had seen what I saw.

I thought about fighting it. Going to the Dean. Writing a petition. But the Head of Department was also my project supervisor for that semester. You know how that story goes.

I didn't tell my mother the truth. I just said the scholarship was very competitive and I missed it by a small margin. She said 'Chai, God knows best.' I felt like a thief for lying to her.

That day I learned something painful about this country. Hard work is not enough. You need connection, you need godfather, you need to know somebody. The system will eat you if you let it.

So I stopped waiting for anyone to give me what I deserve. I started learning skills online. Freelance writing. Data analysis. By my third year I was making more money from freelancing than the scholarship would have given me anyway.

But I still remember that day. Standing in front of that notice board. The smell of harmattan dust. The feeling of being cheated by people who are supposed to be your teachers. Na wa for Nigeria.