I was born as one of six daughters in a South Sudanese polygamous family—where, from the very beginning, my worth felt uncertain.
In my family, my father had two wives. My mother, the first wife, had only daughters—six of us. My stepmother had sons… and in my culture, that made all the difference. The boys were seen as the future, the heirs, the priority.
And even though my father wasn’t a rich man, the little he had was often directed toward them.
So I learned something very early in life: If I wanted an education, I would have to fight for it myself.
I worked hard in school—not because it was easy, but because I knew it was my only way forward. Slowly, my effort started to pay off. I began earning scholarships and bursaries. Each one felt like a small door opening… a small chance to prove that I deserved more.
Then came one of the biggest opportunities of my life.
I received a scholarship to a STEM school in Ghana—a place where students complete Cambridge International A-Levels in less than 10 months in Maths, Further Maths, and Physics. It was intense, competitive, and full of brilliant students.
I was excited. I felt like everything I had worked for was finally coming together.
But when I arrived… reality hit me hard.
Most of my classmates had already completed A-levels. They were ahead. They understood things I had never even seen before. And suddenly, I didn’t feel smart anymore.
I felt small. I felt behind.
For the first time in a long time, I started to doubt myself.
My performance dropped. I struggled to keep up. And there were moments when I honestly felt like giving up—like maybe I didn’t belong there after all.
But something in me refused to quit.
I reminded myself why I was there. I thought about everything I had overcome just to reach that point. And slowly, I started pushing again—studying harder, asking questions, refusing to stay behind.
And it worked.
My grades began to improve. I started finding my confidence again. It felt like I was finally getting back on track.
But just when things were starting to make sense… everything changed.
I was told there had been an issue with my exam registration.
I didn’t fully understand what went wrong. I wasn’t given clear answers. But the outcome was this: I was told I would be registered for one A level and two AS level subjects, which contradicted the scholarship offer of being registered for three A level subjects.
Just like that, all the progress I had made felt like it had disappeared.
I didn’t complete the qualifications I needed.
And yet… somehow, despite all of that, I still managed to get into the University of Pretoria. I was offered the MasterCard scholarship. A real chance to continue my education.
It should have been the moment everything paid off.
But it wasn’t.
Because, as an international student, I needed an official USAF certificate(It is a certificate issued to international students to see if their high school diploma certificate meets South African minimum requirements) to be fully registered. And without completing those required subjects, I didn’t have them.
So I couldn’t go.
After everything—the hard work, the sacrifices, the fighting, the believing—I found myself stuck.
Not because I wasn’t capable.
Not because I didn’t try.
But because of circumstances I couldn’t fully control.
And that’s where I am now.
Still holding onto the same dream.
Still believing that my story isn’t over.
I’m sharing this not for pity—but for possibility.
Because I know I’m not the only one fighting for a future that feels just out of reach.
And maybe… just maybe… someone out there will hear this and help me find a way forward.
If you’ve ever been in a situation where you had to fight for your education, or if you can help me continue mine, please share this story. It could change my life.
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Photo credit: Image provided by the storyteller.
