Chapter 1 - Promise and Peril
Growing up, I always felt different from other kids. I didn't attend nursery school, but by the time I started elementary school at the age of six, I could already read fluently in our local dialect. My mother had taught me how to read at a young age, and by then, I could even write some of the words.
From early on, people noticed there was something special about me. For instance, when I was in my second year of elementary school, I began writing French words I had never seen or heard before. It was as though the words just came to me, out of nowhere. I didn't know where this ability came from, but it made me feel like I wasn't an ordinary child.
By then, I couldn't imagine a life without academic success. I dreamed of becoming a scholar, a person with many degrees. I imagined myself achieving great academic milestones, perhaps even earning two or three PhDs. I thought my life would be extraordinary, built around education and intellectual accomplishments.
When I started school, I excelled beyond expectations. In my first year of elementary school, I always ranked first in my class, earning the highest marks. The same happened in my second year. My teachers and parents were proud of me, and I was seen as a role model for other children in our neighborhood. Despite feeling proud of my achievements, I was also afraid of getting bullied by older students for ranking higher than them because it had happened once before.
My school was old and weathered. The classrooms, which my parents had studied in, still stood as they had decades before. Each class had only one teacher who taught all the lessons. The teachers loved me so much that whenever my class teacher was absent, other teachers would argue over which class I should join, eager to have me as their student. In my first year, I was given a letter to take home to my mother, asking her to come to the school. I carried it home with a knot in my stomach, fearing I had done something wrong. When my mother saw the letter, she asked what I had done to warrant a summons. I replied nervously, "It's probably because my teacher saw me talking to another student during the lecture!" (Lol).
However, when my mother went to the school, she learned it was something entirely different. My teacher had requested that I attend school full-time. In our education system, students below primary four were divided into two groups—one attending morning classes, the other attending afternoon sessions—due to a shortage of teachers and classrooms. Full-day study was a privilege reserved for older students, but my teacher believed I was too intelligent to stay in one session. She wanted me in both classes to foster my learning. That's how I started taking two classes a day.
Our neighborhood was a serene village far from business centers, a friendly place where everyone knew everyone. I grew up in a family that, though not wealthy, was full of love and good values. My father lived in the city and worked as a carpenter, visiting us on weekends when he could afford it. Sometimes it was twice a month, sometimes once, and occasionally, only once in two or three months. This meant I was mostly raised by my mother, who was a farmer. Farmers in my country lived some of the poorest lives.
When I was about three years old, we didn't have a house of our own and lived in my father's uncle's house. At that time, it was just me and my older sister, who was two years ahead of me. Most of my childhood memories revolve around her. Though I have three younger brothers now, it feels like they all came at once from nowhere (lol!).
Our parents worked hard to provide for us, and among the poor in our village, we stood out. My sister and I were the only children with shoes; every other child walked barefoot, even to school. We were also the only kids who ate bread because our father brought it from the city. Bread was considered expensive and unavailable in rural areas, so we always bragged about having bread and biscuits.
Everyone knew us as obedient kids. Our mother forbade us from roaming the neighborhood, so we never stepped onto the street unless accompanied. The first time I set foot on the road was on my way to school. Even the neighbor kids across the road were strangers to me until we started school together. Visiting them was off-limits. The only houses we could visit freely were the two closest to ours: one belonged to my father's uncle, the other to the village leader.
But everything began to change in my third year, and my life took a drastic turn that would affect me forever, leaving me with regrets I still carry.
It all started with bad influences. I began making friends who encouraged me to misbehave. I started arriving late to school, skipping classes, and losing interest in my studies. My grades dropped, and I began to act in ways my family and teachers never expected from me.
One of my bad influences was a girl from the neighborhood. She was a few years older than me—two, maybe three—and at the age of nine, I found myself getting involved in things I wasn't ready for. Looking back, I realize this relationship was a turning point.
The first instance with her happened one day when she came to my house. My parents weren't home, and she suggested we go to the barn. That's where everything started. She used her confidence and maturity to manipulate me, and before long, I was involved in things no child should be. I felt confused and lost but couldn't find a way to break free from her influence.
This relationship altered the course of my life forever. I stopped caring about my studies and began to fall behind. My behavior became erratic, and my mischief raised concerns at home and school. I even started stealing money and valuables from home to give to my bad friends. My family had no peace because of me. My mother, though not overly religious, encouraged us to attend church, but even that failed to bring me back.
This was my breaking bad, and that's how everything in my life started going south.