Henry Kosi Igbodike @henrykosi

In our lodge, we had an odd way of showing thanks to workers like him, an electrician who was a neighbour. Instead of paying them money for their hard work, we usually offered drinks or snacks as a way to say thank you.
On this day, the electrical guy was fixing our light which usually had issues almost everyday.
I often wondered if the electrician felt a little underappreciated, but he always worked with a smile and chatted with everyone around.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he finished the job. I was excited, hoping to see some kind of thanks for him. I thought people would offer him a drink or at least say a proper thank you. He had worked so hard, and it felt right that he should get some recognition.

But as soon as the lights were on, I was disappointed. A few people nearby shouted a quick “thank you!” as they hurried back to their rooms. There were no drinks, no snacks, nothing nothing.

Watching this made me feel sad. The electrician deserved better after all he had done. He had spent weeks making things right for us, and in the end, he got nothing more than a few rushed words. I wished I could do something to show him that he was appreciated, but I felt stuck just watching, my wallet was lying empty lolz.

Today, I went to get a haircut in the afternoon. I was excited because my hair was bushy and I wanted it to look nice. I usually go to the same barbershop because the barber there knows how I like my hair.

When I got to the shop, I found it was closed. I felt sad because I really wanted that barber to cut my hair. I didn’t want to go home without a haircut, so I remembered another barbershop nearby. I had seen it a few times before while I passed, so I thought it would be okay to try it.

As I walked to the new shop, I felt a little nervous. I wasn’t sure if the new barber would do a good job. When I got there, I saw it was different from my usual shop, but I decided to wait.

When it was my turn, the barber started cutting my hair. At first, I felt uncertain, as he didn’t seem careful. I didn’t say anything because I hoped it would turn out fine.

When he finished, I looked in the mirror and was shocked. One side of my hair was much shorter than the other! I couldn’t believe how uneven it looked. I felt disappointed because I had wanted a nice haircut and I could have gotten one if only I followed my instincts.

This man almost ruined my day and I'm still worried on how I am going to appear in school tomorrow with this new clown look.

During my SS2 class, we embarked on an exciting excursion to the Food and Nutrition Department at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka. The anticipation chilled within me as we boarded the chartered bus, ready for a day filled with learning and exploration.

Our group was greeted warmly by the staff, who were eager to show us around their food world when we arrived. We split into smaller groups to tour the different units under the department, and to be honest, my whole consciousnesses was stolen by the aroma that filled the place.

As we moved through the various labs and kitchens, the scent of fries flooded my senses. I could smell freshly baked bread, spices, and the rich aroma of various ingredients mingling together. My stomach made noises in response, betraying my hope that we might get a chance to sample some of the delicious aroma that met our noses.

Watching them, I wished I could jump in and try my hand at cooking alongside them, maybe then, I'll have the opportunity to take a bite.

Finally, after hours of touring and getting enough knowledge about the department and its units, it was time to go.
Without having to sample any of the hot fries.

Growing up, I had always prided myself on being the fastest runner in our neighborhood, a title I had earned through countless races against my friends, siblings, and cousins. Most evenings, we would gather in the yard, racing until the sun dipped below the horizon. I was the champion, always crossing the finish line first, my friends running behind me. I was an upcoming Usain Bolt.

However, this time was different. It was duribg inter-house competition for my SS2 class, a much bigger event that included not just my classmates but older students from SS3 set and even some from lower classes. I had talked about the big game to friends, boasting to my family about my outstanding running capabilities and how I was sure I’d bring home the trophy. I could already visualize my moment of glory, holding that trophy high above my head while my friends cheered me on.

The day of the race arrived, and as I warmed up, I felt a blend of confidence and nervous energy. I practiced with my team, strategizing how we could outpace our rivals. But as the test runs progressed, I quickly realized that things might not go as smoothly as I had imagined.

During one of our practice laps, we lined up, ready to take off. As the whistle blew, I dashed forward, ready to leave everyone in my dust. Yet, within moments, the two boys in front of me, a shorter one with surprising speed and one slim kid whose long legs seemed to propel him forward, were already miles ahead. I pushed harder, but no matter how fast I ran, they continued to widen the gap.

With every step, disappointment washed over me. I had underestimated both of them, especially the shorter boy, who was ahead as if he were a true athlete. As I watched them pull further away, the ease with which they ran remained a reminder of my overconfidence.

“Was I really that fast?” I thought, the reality settling in. I felt embarrassed and frustrated; my dreams of winning that trophy was gone in the air.
I gave up instantly on partaking in the running competition any longer and joined long jump team.