The Beginnings of My Love for Books
The night sky nearly covered the earth. Dinner was on the stove, and my mother had instructed me to wash the dishes that night. There I was, in the corner of our boys' quarter home in Lagos, Nigeria, meticulously washing each plate.
My childhood best friend, Nora, had just returned from her trip to the library. She stood in front of me as I rinsed the remnants off the plate in my hands.
"The book was so interesting," she said. "I wish you could have come to the library with me today."
I had refused to go to the library because I couldn’t see well enough to read books. Occasionally, when Nora visited the library, she would stop by my home to share the books she had read. My imagination ran wild as she described each character. I would suspend myself from my present reality and travel along with the story.
On the nights Nora visited, I prayed intensely, bargaining with God for a miracle to be able to see well enough to read books someday. On this particular night, I held a book beneath my chin and uttered these words: "God, if you grant me clear sight, I will go out into the world and speak of your greatness."
At just 11 years old, my only wish was to be able to read storybooks like my dear friend Nora. I was always disappointed when I woke up the next day and found that my sight was unchanged—still blurry.
The miracle wasn't instant; it was a gradual accumulation of events. My first eye surgery was at age 6, followed by another at 12. At 16, I received reading aids like handheld magnifiers and stronger prescription eyeglasses, allowing me to read books just beneath my chin.
Since I did not read much as a child, I felt the world had gathered knowledge without me, and now it was my turn to catch up with the world. To read whatever I laid my eyes on. Like most children, our understanding of the environment comes from our parents, relatives, older siblings, and friends. Also, my vocabulary was extremely limited, which made comprehending what I read difficult.
From the age of 16, I immersed myself in books with fervor. I read wherever I went — at the doctor’s office, while waiting for the bus, standing in queues at supermarkets, and even at parties. Yes, you read that right.
In the summer of 2010, during my junior year in college, I vividly recall an afternoon in my dormitory spent watching the Oprah Winfrey Show. The episode featured Wes Moore, author of the memoir "The Other Wes Moore: One Name, Two Fates," which delves into the lives of two individuals who share the same name but follow vastly different life paths. Wes Moore, now serving as the governor of Maryland, was central to the discussion, highlighting the stark contrasts in their destinies.
I expressed my fascination with the story to one of my tutors, who kindly bought me a copy. That summer marked a significant period of intellectual awakening for me. I devoured the entire book, comprehending every detail.