“If you can survive Uniport, you can survive anywhere in the world.”
Those were my mother’s words as I sat, slightly nervous but determined, about to take my JAMB exam in 2018.
She said it with such conviction that it became my compass, a reminder to dig deep, laugh when possible, and soldier on through the years that followed—years I’d later describe as the University of Port Harcourt Survival Program.
My parents, both Uniport alumni, had weathered its storms before me.
They knew intimately the challenges and chaos of attending a Nigerian public university—but they also knew its magic, for it was within these very walls that their own love story began.
By picking Uniport, I was following their well-worn path, stepping into a campus that had not only shaped their careers but had written their romance.
Yet as I would soon discover, my journey would write its own unique story.
Now, as I draw the curtains on this chapter of my life, I find myself reflecting on what an extraordinary journey it has been.
A week has passed since I signed out, since I wrote my final exam, and here I sit at my desk—not in celebration or jubilation, but in quiet relief.
The same relief I felt walking out of that examination hall.
Perhaps it’s because this moment comes 365 days overdue, our academic calendar stretched by strikes and a global pandemic.
But first, let’s start from the beginning.
Pre-Degree
In 2017, I took the WAEC exams, less than six months after my family had abruptly relocated from our hometown of Eleme to the heart of Port Harcourt.
The security situation had hit literally on our doorsteps and we came within a whisker of a family casualty.
Staying was no longer an option, so we left—suddenly, in the middle of an academic session.
Everything changed in a matter of days.
One day I was with old friends, engaging in banter and teenage-boy-talk; the next, I was packing up my entire life.
We left behind friends, routines, and even parts of ourselves.
I had to change schools and brace myself for a new beginning in the city with WAEC looming ahead.
WAEC came and went without much trouble, but with so much in flux, I felt unprepared to dive into the next phase with JAMB (Nigeria’s equivalent of the UK’s A-levels).
The idea of taking an extra year to gather myself, adapt to the new environment, and prepare felt more appealing by the day.
Until the call from my high school friend and fellow Eleme-escapee, Gift changed everything.
She’d just picked up her form for the University of Port Harcourt Basic Pre-degree program and wasted no time convincing me to do the same.
Better than wasting a year, she argued with her usual conviction, and she made a compelling case.
Basic turned out to be exactly what I needed—a mix of excitement, chaos, and new friendships.
It was one of the most memorable experiences of my life, and I was lucky to meet some of the wildest and most intelligent people I know to this day in that program.
After Basic, a strong JAMB score, and a solid performance on the aptitude test, I secured my place in the University of Port Harcourt for the 2018/2019 academic session to study Electrical/Electronics Engineering.
We were slated to resume in late 2018. But in classic Nigerian fashion, the academic year began in fits and starts—a warm-up strike here, a holiday there, and a few more hiccups before finally hitting full speed in 2019.
Matriculation
There was no argument anyone could’ve made that would have convinced me that there was anything worth celebrating that day.
The short strike (honestly, I don’t think any generation has faced as many strikes as ours) had already drained whatever excitement I’d felt about my admission.
I was completely disillusioned.
At the risk of sounding like a party pooper, I told anyone who would listen just how pointless it seemed.
Maybe it was because I’d already completed my Basic year, so I didn’t feel like a “fresher.” After all, I’d already spent a year in the environment.
I’ll be honest, I wasn’t overflowing with gratitude and joy about the admission outcome.
I did the work, got in, and knew how stressful my life was about to become.
These were all predictable series of events.
Despite my indifference, I could still appreciate the excitement of my colleagues, and it was nice to see them revelling in the celebrations.
I didn’t trouble my parents with organising food or entertainment for the day.
The only reason I showed up was to take a few pictures for the family and, more importantly, to eat my friend Samuel’s family rice.
That was a good enough reason to be there.
My First Class
I had never been more disillusioned with life than during my first class experience. Growing up on Nickelodeon shows like Victorious and iCarly, I’d never imagined high school would be as glamorous as that.
But university? Here, I let myself dream a bit.
I pictured myself in one of those elite lecture halls, like the grand ones you see in Hollywood films—an MIT-style auditorium with the professor at the centre, students keenly listening, taking notes, and asking questions.
Imagine my shock, when I strolled into my first Physics class in MBA 2, arriving only ten minutes late, expecting to find my “dream” class.
Instead, I was greeted by pure chaos.
The hall was packed with students standing, sitting on the floor, or crammed against walls, the air thick with a smell that was an unholy mix of sweat, stale air, and yesterday’s rice.
There were no seats left.
For a while, I stood in disbelief, muttering every curse word I knew.
I scanned the room, double-checking if maybe this was just the wrong hall. But there was my course code, “PHY 101”, bold and clear on the board.
With nothing left to do, I walked out and ran into my friend Hezekiah outside, who looked surprisingly cheerful given the circumstances.
Engine Drawing
If you’ve read this far, you’ve probably started to get an idea of the kind of person I am.
I do not buy the idea that anything is possible if you simply put your heart into it.
That’s just a motivational speaker’s catchphrase designed to sell books and tickets.
Success isn’t just about mindset or attitude.
Some people simply excel at certain things more than others, and there are different factors at play—like natural aptitude, upbringing, nutrition, chemical imbalances in the brain, and yes, mindset, among others.
Now, let me tell you about the academic challenge I couldn’t motivate my way out of. I was just bad at it—no amount of positive thinking was going to change that.
In secondary school, I came to terms with the fact that creative and artsy endeavours were just not my bailiwick.
In junior secondary, I was probably the worst student in creative arts class—by fate and choice.
I wasn’t great at it, didn’t share the excitement my mates had when it was time to go to the art studio, and didn’t care about my lack of artistic talent.
To other teachers, I was a good student; to the art teacher, let’s just say the feeling was mutual.
The only times I submitted assignments and projects were when I could get my little sister or friends to do them for me.
Since we couldn’t yet pick subjects, I was stuck with something I didn’t want to do.
By senior secondary, I decided I wanted to be an engineer due to my love for Physics.
One of the subject options in this path included Technical Drawing, a precursor to the Engineering drawing course all Engineering students must take in their first or second year.
I went into the first TD class optimistic, thinking I could maybe “turn a new leaf” as it was a new beginning.
We covered borderlines, and I thought, “Okay, I can handle this.” But by the time we started bisecting angles, it was over.
I found myself sweating, confused, and absolutely out of my depth.
My first term exam was catastrophic.
After failing in my attempts to imitate the hand movements of the lad in front of me, I went rogue.
I drew all the angles with a ruler and protractor, after all, 60° is 60°, whether done with a ruler or bisected with a compass.
I got half-marked.
By the second term, I became the only engineering aspirant who’d dropped Technical Drawing, choosing computing instead.
I had no plans to take TD in WAEC exams, so persisting felt pointless.
University came, and given my history, I knew Engineering Drawing was going to be my Achilles’ heel.
My borderlines were immaculate, sure, but every attempt at drawing beyond that was… catastrophic.
I tried everything—mindset shifts, and hours of online and personal tutorials. But nothing worked.
Heaven was sooner going to come down than for me to render a 3D diagram of some object from memory.
Somehow, I scraped by with a B in the first semester and a D in the second.
Both results, frankly, were an act of God.
My Friends
They say like-minded people find each other in every setting.
My experience was no different.
I still remember the loud voice of a fellow called John at the back of ULCH 1 classroom.
I had overheard someone call him Johnny and I had a quick flashback to the nursery rhyme “Johnny Johnny”.
He was mid-conversation with a slightly taller lad called Dikachi—who would later become Kachi—and though I can’t remember the exact topic, it was so outrageous it stopped me and my high school friend, Samuel, in our tracks and we got involved in the conversation.
Johnny had a way of drawing you in, and within days, we’d formed a sort of gang.
As the months went on, our group expanded to include Nwachukwu, Daniel, my beloved Tonie, and Inameti.
We became known as “NPF,” named after the Nigerian Police Force on campus, and we had some of the most ridiculous escapades Uniport had to offer.
Long nights filled with stories, bad decisions, epic laughter—all the things you can only share with the people who go through it with you.
Maybe I’ll write about our adventures someday or tell them at some 60th birthday party if we’re not already in hell from missing the rapture.
COVID
COVID hit us right in the middle of a semester, and suddenly, the world stopped.
My biggest regret during that period was that I didn’t focus more on technical skill development or restart the coding journey I’d dabbled in.
I look back now and wonder—maybe I’d have become a guru or landed an international gig and resumed school rich. Whatever!
On the other hand, COVID brought a different kind of education. I read widely, from C.S. Lewis to Maddox.
I binge-watched countless movies and shows, becoming something of a film connoisseur. I read, I watched, I reflected, and in a way, I grew.
By the time we returned, the resumption was brutal: exams after a year’s gap, with just a month to prepare? The results were bloody.
And to think, some people waited for those Zoom revision classes that never held. Lmao.
Finding a Wife in Uniport
My parents met at the University of Port Harcourt sometime in the ’90s—though they play coy when I bring up details.
My dad was a NIFES member, and my mum, a bright-eyed Basic student, caught his eye during an evangelism campaign.
Sentimental romantic, I suppose I inherited it.
So you’d understand why I was low-key hoping to find my own fairy tale, thinking surely fate would grace me with a perfect “meet-cute.”
After all, I’ve spent seven years here.
But instead of a fairy tale, I have a handful of half-arsed attempts and links to show for it.
I suppose some things just aren’t meant to be. Sigh.
AIESEC
This story would be incomplete without a shoutout to AIESEC.
As the world’s largest youth-run organisation, AIESEC provides a platform for young people to make a difference and develop themselves.
I became a member of my campus Local Committee in 2020, just days before the lockdown hit, and only resumed active involvement a year later.
Now, as I near the end of my AIESEC journey, I can’t help but marvel at the wild ride it’s been.
I’ve met some of the most brilliant and hilarious people from across the country, travelled to new states and absorbed new cultures, held various leadership roles, grown professionally, and, of course, partied like crazy.
At one point, I even managed to drag all my friends into AIESEC with me—no regrets there!
If you’re reading this and you’re still a student in search of a community of like-minded, progressive young people who are making moves professionally, I highly recommend checking out AIESEC.
It’s one of those rare opportunities to grow, network, and have a great time doing it.
Past, Present, and Future
In my third year, I landed my first paid role as a content marketer at a digital publishing company.
Since then, I’ve worked and consulted with individuals, agencies, and brands within and outside Nigeria to support their marketing efforts.
I take pride in my work and enjoy the industry, but in 2023, I felt it was time for a new challenge.
Tired of letting my technical abilities remain side projects, I decided to pursue cybersecurity more seriously and publicly.
This new journey has been transformative.
In March, I launched Web Security Lab, an initiative that bridges the technical knowledge gap in cybersecurity.
Through plain-language education and advocacy, we help people understand and protect their digital rights, data privacy, and online security, with a special focus on serving those without technical expertise.
While I still work in marketing, Web Security Lab has become much more than a side project—it’s a passion that I’m excited to keep building.
As for what the future holds, there’s a lot in the works as we look to scale.
If you’re curious and would like to join us or support our mission, you can reach out to me as well as drop a follow on LinkedIn and X.
Last Words
This was supposed to happen last year, but ASUU strikes and COVID delays held back the Engineering Class of ’23 till 2024.
As I prepare to leave, I can’t help but feel that our generation is inheriting a very different world from our parents.
Gone is the promise of a smooth transition; we’re stepping out into a tangled mess of challenges and uncertainties.
But I’ll leave you with this: a prayer, a wish, maybe even a warning.
“May we have the strength to weather the storms that await us, the courage to pursue dreams despite the chaos, and the wisdom to find joy and meaning in the unexpected.”
As I pack up memories of strikes, unforgettable friendships, relentless exams, and stolen moments of laughter, I’m reminded that we’re not just a class that survived Uniport; we’re a generation that has learned to endure and adapt in ways no one could have predicted.
We may not be stepping into a stable world, but maybe that’s our superpower—our ability to face disorder and make something of it, no matter the odds.
So here’s to the Class of ’23: may we walk forward with open minds, and may we find our way, even when the path isn’t clear.
For now, it’s time to close this chapter and say goodbye.
Thank you, Uniport, for the lessons, the challenges, and the memories. It’s been real.
Tata and Farewell!
Originally published in the University of Port Harcourt, Department of Electrical/Electronics Engineering 2024 Yearbook. Republished here with minor edits.
