Schooling abroad is like building a house on
A weak foundation in a land so strange.
Words appear to lose their meanings,
Ears play deaf, brain numb, and eyes blurred;
Is my repertoire of words missing?
Even more confusing is discriminating words;
Seven, ten sounds like Seventeen.
And presenting seventeen, instead of seven, then ten,
Is indeed as embarrassing as the
Amused expressions popping out from turned
Faces, as if about to ask, “which planet is she from?”
I would rather hold up my face and answer them,
“I’m from the planet of hard nuts, where you may not last a week,”
Than to die in silence, so I vouch to record only at my mind’s back yard,
Those Judging laughs around the corner when I sound like a -
‘Johnny just joined,’
Then I take a new route to air my confusions.
Millions of appreciations to amazing, teachers, professors,
And teaching assistants.
They always come to my rescue and often encourage --
“It’s okay, relax, you’ll be fine; we’ll do our best to help.”
Uzoma R. Ezekwudo
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