Afrobrit Episode 7 : Catapault

After being distraught yet again, I was battling between fighting head on for the 3rd time or just relaxing and doing whatever came to mind. Failure can be devastating but like my mother said, it was up to me to take it well or let it weigh me down. I chose the former eventually and this time I was ruthless with my preparation. I had chosen a centre in my home country. I honestly didn’t bother practicing any other section except writing. I knew I had no issues with them and I wasn’t going to waste my time doing all that. As the exam day drew closer, I could feel the knots in my tummy get tighter and tighter with anxiety.

The funny part of this notorious exam was that I wasn’t the only one struggling to meet up with the writing cut off. I had heard all the stories from people already working in the UK, from people who were writing their PLAB exams, even my close friends were struggling with the same issue and one would really wonder how such a seemingly simple language that we spoke from childhood became a thorn in our flesh. We were all ‘smart’ people and yet this one exam humbled our wits. It was truly annoying.

The exam day finally came. That morning I woke up early, got dressed up and had my uncle drop me off at the exam centre. I stared at the building with such dismay and a heavy sigh. I kept repeating to myself, ‘you can do this, you can do this…’ I met two of my friends there surprisingly, one of them in the same struggle and probably even had it worse. We all finally entered the hall to get set for the written tests. The listening test was administered first. There were some technical problems initially which took quite some time and threw me a little off balance but I kept my cool. The reading section came and it went smoothly and easy. The dreaded monster finally arrived. I was obviously nervous as I stared at the paper yet again for the third time. The topics seemed quite relatable, things I could actually comprehend. So, I began. Word after word, I kept praying under my breath and hoping for the best. It was now finally over, but not really over.

The next 15 days were very tense. I was doing all sorts to distract myself from the thought of the result. It wasn’t very easy. The judgement day arrived. I was sitting on my bed in my room staring at my phone endlessly. My heart pounding, with sweat rolling down my forehead. I had imagined what would happen if it went both ways. I told myself I just had to check no matter what. I finally summoned the courage to open the website. I scrolled to my page with shaky hands as the page loaded. It was finally staring at me. I looked 🇳🇬 closely at the screen, my eyes already tearing up with one hand on my mouth to prevent me from crying aloud. I couldn’t believe it. How did this happen? how? All the memories of the exam day began to rush through my mind, everything I had done, all I went through trying to get it right and here I was in this moment gently crying like a toddler.

I stared one more time at my screen, and there it was, a 7.5 in writing. They were tears of joy. This phase was finally over. It was over. I called my mum.