The night before the Primary Leaving Examinations (PLE) began, Zaria could barely breathe from the pressure. She had come so far—through bruises, tears, sleepless nights, and hidden notebooks. And now, the moment that could change her life forever was here.
In her tiny corner of the storeroom, she sat cross-legged, whispering a silent prayer. Her borrowed uniform—a faded blue dress that once belonged to Linda—was folded neatly beside her, hidden inside an empty grain sack. The exam slip Teacher Lilian gave her was tucked safely in her handmade journal, pressed between pages filled with dreams and lessons.
Suddenly, there was a knock—three gentle taps on the wooden plank outside. Zaria crawled to the door and opened it slightly.
It was Linda.
"They're here," she whispered.
Zaria nodded, grabbed the sack, and quietly followed Linda through the backyard, avoiding the noisy gravel path that led to the main compound.
Waiting behind the latrine was Teacher Lilian, her car engine off, lights dimmed. In the passenger seat sat Miss Racheal, holding a thermos and what looked like a packed breakfast.
"You ready?" Lilian asked.
Zaria nodded.
"You know the plan?" Miss Racheal added.
"Yes," Zaria said. "I've done everything Sarah asked me for tomorrow—washed clothes, peeled the cassava, cleaned the compound—and she thinks I'll be out selling baskets the next two days."
"Perfect," Lilian said. "You'll be with us for three days. We'll sneak you back each evening after the papers."
---
The school hall had never looked so enormous. The desks were neatly spaced. The blackboard displayed the words "Primary Leaving Examinations – Day One." Zaria's heart skipped a beat.
Most pupils chatted nervously, but Zaria sat silently, her fingers gripping the pencil as if it were her only lifeline.
Her name was called.
"Zaria londa Johnson."
She stood, legs shaking. She walked to the front to verify her index number and then returned to her seat. No one suspected she wasn't supposed to be there. The borrowed uniform fit just well enough.
The invigilator, a stern woman with glasses, passed around the first paper—Mathematics.
Zaria took a deep breath.
As the timekeeper shouted, "Begin!" she bowed her head and started. The numbers seemed to dance on the paper at first, but she steadied herself.
This was what all those nights were for. Every number had meaning. Every equation, every diagram, every calculation—this was her freedom.
When the two hours were up, Zaria looked down at the paper filled front to back and allowed herself a tiny smile.
---
That afternoon, Teacher Lilian drove her and Linda to her own home.
"You'll rest here tonight," she said. "You did well today."
Zaria sat on a real couch for the first time in her life. The living room smelled of lavender and books. There was a clock ticking on the wall. Linda poured her juice and handed her a sandwich.
"I've never eaten this before," Zaria admitted, amazed.
"Get used to it," Linda joked. "You're living your new life now."
Lilian returned with a blanket and mattress. "Rest now. English is tomorrow. Big paper. You'll do great."
---
Day two arrived with fresh tension.
Zaria sat for English Paper 1 – Composition and Paper 2 – Comprehension and Grammar. She poured her heart into her story, a fictional piece about a girl who lived in a village and secretly went to school at night. It felt like telling her own story in code.
By the time she answered the final comprehension question, the invigilator said, "Pens down."
She did—and with a heart filled with cautious hope.
That evening, she returned to Teacher Lilian's house again, where she revised for the next day with Linda.
"Tomorrow is Science and Social Studies," Lilian reminded her. "Final stretch."
"I'm ready," Zaria said. "I have to be."
---
On the third and final day, Zaria walked into the hall with a new sense of confidence. The Science paper came first.
She was tested on topics like digestion, plant reproduction, and the solar system—subjects she had studied using diagrams on sackcloths, oral lessons from Linda, and handouts from Ms. Racheal.
Then came the final paper—Social Studies and Religious Education.
She wrote about Uganda's districts, responsibilities of good citizens, and religious festivals she had never celebrated, but knew by heart thanks to Linda's summaries.
When the bell rang for the final time, she looked at her script, sighed, and quietly whispered, "I did it, Mama. I did it."
---
That evening, after being dropped secretly near the trading center, Zaria carried an empty basket and walked home as if nothing had happened.
When Sarah saw her, she frowned.
"You came back late," she snapped.
"I sold everything, Mama," Zaria said, lowering her head. "It took longer."
"Hmph. I'll count tomorrow."
Zaria nodded and disappeared into the storeroom.
Once inside, she pulled out her journal and scribbled:
> "Today, I finished PLE. Not just exams. I finished proving that I am worth more than the pain. I am somebody."
---
Back at school, Teacher Lilian sat with the headteacher and Ms. Racheal, discussing the coming results.
"Even if she gets average grades," the headteacher said, "it's a miracle she reached the exam room."
"She won't be average," Lilian smiled. "She's extraordinary."
Ms. Racheal nodded. "Now we wait. And pray."
---
Zaria lay in the dark, the torch off, the exams behind her. She was exhausted. But something in her heart had shifted.
For the first time, she didn't feel stuck.
For the first time, she wasn't just surviving.
She was becoming.