Zaria had no idea that her life was about to shift again—not just in dreams, but in reality.
One quiet afternoon after a secret lesson in the forest, Teacher Lilian handed her a neatly folded paper. Her face was serious, but her eyes were kind.
"Zaria," she began, "I want you to listen carefully."
Zaria looked up, her hands trembling as she held the paper. "Yes, teacher?"
"I've been watching you. Testing you. Every worksheet, every exam… Zaria, you're not just ready. You're exceptional."
Zaria's eyes widened. "Teacher…"
"Let me finish," Lilian said gently. "I spoke to the headteacher. I told him everything—from the first day I saw you carrying firewood with that glow of determination in your eyes."
Zaria blinked, unable to speak.
"He was shocked. But when I showed him your test scores, he said something I'll never forget." Lilian smiled softly. "He said, 'If this child can do this under such circumstances, imagine what she'd achieve with a chance.'"
Zaria clutched the paper tighter.
"I also spoke to Ms. Racheal—the P7 class teacher. She was touched, and she agreed to help tutor you in the remaining subjects," Lilian continued. "And now... we've done something brave."
"What is it?" Zaria whispered.
"We've registered you as a Private Candidate for Primary Seven."
Zaria gasped. Her knees weakened, and she sat on the grass.
"I'm… going to sit for PLE?"
Lilian nodded. "Yes. It wasn't easy. I used my own national ID to stand in as your guardian. The headteacher covered part of the registration fee from the staff emergency fund. The other teachers contributed what they could."
Zaria covered her mouth, tears already falling. "I don't know what to say…"
"Say you'll work harder than ever," Lilian said. "Say you'll believe in yourself as much as we believe in you."
Zaria nodded through her tears. "I promise."
---
From that day forward, everything changed.
Zaria was now a candidate. A real one.
It meant stricter timetables. More tests. New subjects like Agriculture and CRE (Christian Religious Education) that she hadn't fully grasped. But she was ready to learn it all.
Ms. Racheal met her in the forest twice a week and reviewed past papers. Mr. Kamoga drilled her in science experiments, bringing illustrations on manila papers. Miss Grace recorded audio lessons in English and gave them to Linda, who smuggled them in a broken radio cassette.
Every teacher had taken a piece of Zaria's dream and carried it like their own.
---
At home, nothing changed—or so it seemed.
Sarah still made her scrub the compound with bare hands. She sent her to sell baskets, peel cassava, boil water, and run errands until her back ached.
But now, Zaria had something they couldn't touch: a mission. A purpose.
Even in the storeroom, she had pinned a hand-drawn calendar showing the days remaining to the national exams. She marked each with a small dot of charcoal like it was a countdown to her freedom.
---
"Zaria," Linda whispered one evening under their tree, "how does it feel… to be going for PLE?"
Zaria smiled. "Like I'm about to touch the sky."
They laughed quietly.
"I talked to my mom again," Linda added. "I told her more. She cried."
Zaria's smile faded. "Why?"
"She said no child should have to live like you do. She gave me some of my old uniforms—maybe you can use one when you go to sit for your papers."
Zaria hugged her tightly. "Thank you. Thank your mother too. One day, I'll repay you both."
"You don't have to," Linda replied. "Just become what you dream of."
Zaria nodded. "A doctor… or maybe an aeroplane engineer. Something big. Something that helps others."
---
The days grew shorter. The pressure grew heavier.
At night, Zaria studied with her torch hidden beneath a broken basin. She revised past papers, memorized diagrams, and even practiced writing essays on rough papers.
One night, while everyone else was asleep, she scribbled in her journal:
> "If I pass these exams, I will no longer belong to this pain. I will belong to the future. To hope."
---
As October approached, the real preparations for PLE began.
Teacher Lilian warned her, "These last weeks are crucial. It's not just about what you know. It's about how you manage time, stress, and silence."
"I can do it," Zaria said, gripping her borrowed pen. "I have to."
On some days, Zaria didn't sleep at all. After working all day, she'd revise late into the night, sleep for an hour, and rise early to prepare tea and fetch water before anyone woke up.
It was the only way to keep her secret intact.
---
Meanwhile, Sarah started noticing changes again.
"You walk like a girl with purpose," she snapped one evening. "What are you hiding?"
Zaria lowered her gaze. "Nothing, Mama."
"You think I'm stupid?"
"No, Mama."
"Don't you ever try to outshine your sisters," she warned. "They're educated. You're not."
Zaria kept quiet, but in her heart, she whispered, "Not yet."
---
The final month before PLE came like a storm.
Teacher Lilian gave her the exam schedule. "We'll make sure you arrive at the center with no one seeing you. You'll wear a borrowed uniform and carry this," she handed her a small bag packed with pens, pencils, a rubber, ruler, and her exam slip.
Zaria took it like it was a crown.
She could already see it—the exam room, the invigilator calling her name, the paper in front of her. Her hand raised to begin.
"You are the bridge," she wrote in her journal later that night. "And I will cross over."