Ahmad prayed that the ground would open up and swallow him. Whole. And very quickly. He read one more line of his presentation and winced as the class snickered like one giant bully. Yet again.

Who was to blame for his accent? Nobody. He was a Northerner and he spoke like one. What on earth should he be ashamed of? Nothing. At least, nothing that he could pick out. By the way, he knew as a matter of fact, that the nothern accent blended better with English than any of the other languages, Yoruba and Igbo included..

Yet even as he thought about all this, he heard the class laugh again and it pained him. He would not deny that fact. He even heard one rude person shout that he should just speak in hausa. Did they think he would have made it to Law School if his English was so bad?

Ahmad shook his head and forced his mind back to the presentation he was engaged in. There were other things to consider, things more important than a class filled with snickering people who didn’t know anything. It was not their fault. He was the oversabi who had volunteered to climb stage and present.

Published by clandie

Most loved daughter of a King. Lawyer and aspiring writer. Hair lover and everyday story teller.

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