Part I
It was a hot summer afternoon in Boston when I received a text from Coach Benedict (not real name). I was emptying the large kitchen trash barrels, sweating profusely with continuous beads running off my forehead. I didn't know whether I was expected to get excited or not. All I knew was that I was not the type of person that gave up. Or let us put it like this, "Where I come from, giving up is when you are six feet below the Earth's dust."
Home: Kabale Town. Image source: Uganda Safaris.
My father says right from childhood, I always talked of America. I have no memory of that, but I am glad he carried that for me. I may sound like a Western Country worshiper, but what hope holds for a peasant's daughter in an economy I hail. Don't get me wrong, I hold onto my heritage with pride and would go the extra mile for my nation. My father's memory wasn't far from the truth. The day I learned basketball, I could only talk about the WNBA. I had this MEGA dream to play in that league. But again, how many players have ever been drafted from the African continent? Would I be the first to be drafted? Where there is a will, there's a way.
I spent my entire Advanced Level studying for the SATs and researching colleges in the USA. I had no clue about the expenses or what nots involved in the process but I had the will. I came up with a list of 60 colleges. Yes, you read that right. I wrote letters of motivation, letters of interest, and college essays, and all the applications were done on the college board. The only thing that stood in my way was the SATs. I was blessed to have an organization that supports promising kids to apply to the USA pick interest in me. As I said, where there is a will, there is a way. I had my SATs paid for and my college applications paid for. On the day of taking my SATs, I arrived at Kampala International School Uganda only to find that my name had been misspelled on the documents. The letter S stood in my way in the name Elizabeth.
With classmates at Kampala International School Uganda to take SATs
August came faster than I anticipated; each day, as the college decision letters started to roll out, reminded me how I wasn't a perfect fit for that education system. Yes, you read that right as well. I hold onto my sixty college rejections with all love. I had not received any government scholarship in my country as, well. I applied to Nkozi, where I excelled highly at Architecture applications, and was offered a vacancy. My soul demanded more than making house plans. I respect architects because I am still a building enthusiast, and I never ever performed below a B (80+) my whole time when I studied house construction and house planning. It was the love of my life.
Part II coming soon. Follow my mini-book series on What Goes on in the Mind of an Athlete with a Season-Ending Injury.
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