Between education and hope: the non existing hope During our journey back to school, the coordinator gave us directions to his office. He told us he would call us to come and collect our reward. That call never came. Instead, the scholarship coordinators created a group and added all of us there. Days passed. No message. No update. Then suddenly, we heard new information: we would be moving to a different school, and there would be no reward anymore. Still, we were happy. Life continued. Later, they said they would take care of our tuition fees and that we would only need to sort out accommodation. At that point, I told myself I wasn’t going anywhere—but my parents insisted I should try. Then another update came: they would pay for other departmental fees that were not part of tuition. We agreed again. Later, they said they would handle accommodation as well. Hope was given. Then taken. Then given again. Some students went back to their former schools. Some never showed up because they were already studying good courses in other states. Only a few of us decided to continue. At some point, I completely gave up on going. My state coordinator stopped picking our calls. When he finally picked a parent’s call, he said the government would not assist us anymore. That was it. My dad bought me a new laptop in exchange for the scholarship school. I was excited and sad at the same time. What if that scholarship was my only opportunity? What if I had just lost my chance forever? I prayed and asked God to choose the best option for me. By Monday, my dad told me to prepare we were going to town. When we arrived, I completed my registration in less than 30 minutes. A registration that took me over one month in my former school. I started classes that same day. I fell in love with the school environment. I made new friends. But that was in second semester. I was scared at first because most of the students were very intelligent. But from where I was coming from, giving up was never an option. This was how I began a new life in a new university. I believe it was the right choice. But is the hope still there? The hope disappeared but I keep believing it’s on its way back. Maybe someday. But not now.

Between education and hope After we left the villa, we began our journey back to school. That same day, a protest was ongoing, and many major roads were blocked. We had no choice but to take unfamiliar local roads. Not long after, our car started misbehaving. We would move a little, then stop. Move again, then stop. Still, our supervisor insisted we continue. At some point, my dad even suggested that I should drop off and try to find my way home on my own. But the supervisor kept reassuring us, saying everything would be fine and that we should keep moving. A journey that was not supposed to take up to three hours ended up taking more than eight. The car kept stopping. Parents kept calling. Even the governor’s wife was calling to check on us. Through it all, the supervisor kept giving us hope. We finally arrived at the state capital the next day. When I got to where I stay, I stood outside knocking for a long time. When they finally opened the gate, I walked in and slept off immediately exhausted in every sense of the word. Later that same day, I still had a practical class in school.

Between Education and Hope (Part 4): Inside the Villa Honestly speaking, I didn’t sleep that night. It was my first time sleeping in a hotel. The room was big, the bed was big too. There was a television, chair, drawer, and even a fridge. Though, if I think about it well, it wasn’t that different from my mum’s room but you know that feeling. The toilet even had a heater and a bathtub. It felt like I was in a more developed version of my mum’s room. My body hardly adjusts when I enter a new environment, so sleep didn’t come at all. The next morning, I had a slight headache. I called my dad and told him we would be going to the State House. I even asked him, “Where exactly is State House?” He said it’s inside the Presidential Villa. Presidential Villa. That’s where the president lives. Immediately, I became happy. Even if I didn’t pass any exam, I was still entering the villa. Later that morning, the girl I shared the room with said she was hungry. I called the coordinator, and he said he would get back to us in a minute which he did. But this time, he told us to pack all our things because we would be checking out of the hotel. He took us to a roadside food seller and bought beans for us. We weren’t happy, but we didn’t really have a choice. When we got to the first gate of the villa, security told us to park the car before entering. We stayed there for nothing less than 30 minutes. They only allowed us in after receiving a call from inside. We couldn’t stop admiring the environment. The villa looked like another state inside Abuja. At the second gate, the same thing happened. Park the car. Wait. Phone calls. Then finally, we were allowed in. Inside was beautiful. We were given tags, T-shirts, and face caps. We wrote our names and were led into the hall. There were many students wearing the same cap and T-shirt. We were directed to sit. Everyone was looking at everyone. But no one was talking. We were all nervous. After some minutes, the President’s wife entered. We all stood up. Many dignitaries were present governors’ wives, ministers, and important people. But honestly, the cold was too much. The English they were speaking was plenty. The promises were plenty too. At some point, I even started dozing off. But they fed us well https://image.nostr.build/d9482922740907560fb49513ec95b1e6d1432251aa5d4e90609cffc86b25068b.jpgfood with big meat. When the program ended, we stood again as the President’s wife left. Our coordinator told us we should get ready to leave. As we left Abuja, I thought everything was finally falling into place. I didn’t know that another story was waiting for us.

Between Education and Hope (Part 3): The Call That Changed Everything When I finally picked my coordinator’s call, the first question he asked was if I had received a phone call the previous day. I said no at first but immediately he said “congratulations”, and everything came back to me. I quickly told him that yes, someone had called me and congratulated me. He then told me to prepare because on Monday, we would be going to town to collect our reward. That Monday, I wore my favorite gown well ironed. I went to school, waiting for his call. He didn’t call. Hours passed. Around 2pm, I decided to call him instead. He said there was a possibility that we might not be going again because of an upcoming protest scheduled for Thursday, 1st August. I went back home disappointed but I told myself it was fine. On Wednesday, I was supposed to have a class. I trekked to school because I didn’t want to spend transport money. My parents had sent me money, but my dad had already said he was broke, so I wanted to manage what I had till the following week. Just as I got to the entrance of the lecture hall, my phone rang. It was my coordinator. He asked if my credentials were with me. I said no. He immediately told me to go back home, get them, and meet him at the State Ministry of Works. He said he would be there in the next 30 minutes. I rushed home on a bike. I packed my credentials and added one extra shirt because the one I was wearing was looking somehow, and anything could happen. Then I headed straight to the ministry. When I arrived, I sat under a mango tree outside the office. I waited there for more than two hours. I was hungry too, because I hadn’t eaten before leaving the house. About 30 minutes later, I saw a familiar face. I asked what he was doing there, and he told me he was also going for the scholarship. I was relieved at least I wasn’t alone. We checked his credentials together and realized something was missing, so he went back home to get it. When the coordinator finally arrived, he complained about the remaining students that hadn’t shown up. After that, we entered a small cafeteria inside the ministry and ate. Later, more students joined us. Then our journey to Abuja began. Throughout the journey, I was anxious and extremely excited. I didn’t even know what to expect or what questions might come next. When we arrived in Abuja, we lodged in a hotel and bought food from roadside table sellers. That night, the coordinator told us to prepare. The next day, we would be going to the State House.

Between Education and Hope (Part 2): The Waiting Season In my last write up, I shared a summary of everything that happened during my scholarship journey. This time, I want to tell the story of what happened after the exam and how I even got there. That same night, the scholarship coordinator told me to meet him in my faculty before 8am the next day. Like a serious student and from all the advice older students usually give I believed that if you have an important program, you should always arrive early. So I got to school around 6:30am, telling myself I would revise properly before the exam. In my mind, I was already imagining a future where I could take the burden of my education off my father’s shoulders. My parents were happy too believing their daughter was about to make them proud. I waited. And waited. By 8am, nothing. By 9am, still nothing. By the time it was past 10am, hunger had set in, and hope was slowly slipping away. When the coordinator finally arrived, he didn’t say much. He spoke in bits and pieces, then handed me a paper and asked me to copy what was written on it. As I read through it, I realized the real task wasn’t copying it was answering a simple but heavy question: “Why are you the ideal candidate for this scholarship?” I dropped the paper. I told myself, I just have to be myself. I can’t remember everything I wrote, but I know I wrote honestly from my heart. When I submitted it, the coordinator told me to keep my phone on at all times because I would be receiving a call soon. This was around late February or early March. From that day on, I made sure my phone never ran out of battery. Every ring made my heart jump. But the call never came. Weeks passed. The semester ended. I gave up. I told myself, Maybe they’ve already given it to someone else. Maybe it just wasn’t my luck. Life moved on. Second semester came and it was one of the hardest periods of my life. I even forgot to write one exam. I was extremely broke and slowly sinking into depression. Things became so difficult that there was a week I didn’t eat for three straight days. On that Friday, out of pure necessity, I went to my cousin’s house to get food. While there, I received a call from a new number. The caller mentioned my full name. I wasn’t surprised but I assumed it was probably a scam. The person said, “Congratulations.” I smiled weakly. I was hungry. After eating, I completely forgot about the call. The next day Saturday I received another call. This time, it was my scholarship coordinator. That was when everything came rushing back. I immediately called my parents. They were happy. And in that moment, I realized that sometimes, hope doesn’t come when you’re strong https://image.nostr.build/62fd6f6dadc333156a2ead95965e8eaab33ad33a76924984bc666191e1e79b91.jpgit comes when you’re almost empty.

Thank you @Olaoluwa Ezekiel Michael for the call

Don't just surround yourself around OGS also try to be like one 🙌

Nigeria’s 2026 Economy and How Web3 Can Play a Role As Nigeria looks toward moderate economic growth in 2026, conversations around stability, productivity, and inclusion are becoming more important. Beyond traditional reforms, emerging technologies like Web3 could play a complementary role in strengthening the economy. One key area is financial inclusion. Web3 platforms enable individuals and small businesses to access financial tools without heavy reliance on intermediaries. For many Nigerians operating in informal or semi-formal sectors, this can reduce friction, lower transaction costs, and improve access to global markets. Another benefit is transparency and efficiency. Blockchain-based systems can help track transactions, reduce leakages, and improve trust in economic activities. When processes are transparent and automated, it reduces the need for excessive manual controls that often slow down business operations. Web3 can also support better compliance, not avoidance. Smart contracts and on-chain records make it easier for individuals and businesses to understand obligations clearly, rather than navigating complex or unclear systems. Simpler systems encourage participation instead of discouraging it. As Nigeria continues its economic transition, Web3 should not be seen as a replacement for existing systems, but as a tool that can help reduce inefficiencies, empower entrepreneurs, and support sustainable growth when used responsibly.

Nigeria’s Economic Outlook for 2026: Cautious Optimism Nigeria’s economy is projected to record moderate growth in 2026, with GDP estimates ranging between 4.2% and 4.49%. This projection builds on reforms introduced in previous years and signals a gradual move toward recovery and stability. One major factor driving this outlook is the improvement in foreign exchange reserves and better FX inflows, which are expected to help stabilize the naira. Current projections suggest the naira could trade within the 1,400–1,500 per dollar range if inflows remain steady. For households and businesses, this kind of stability matters more than rapid appreciation. Stronger household demand and increased fiscal discipline under the current administration also contribute to the positive outlook. These changes suggest an economy slowly adjusting to reforms, rather than one experiencing sudden growth. However, challenges remain. Structural issues, possible delays in budget implementation due to carryovers, and global economic uncertainties could slow progress. This means optimism should be balanced with realism. Overall, 2026 appears to be a transition year for Nigeria one that could lay the foundation for stronger growth if reforms are sustained and policy execution improves. The opportunity is there, but consistency will determine the outcome.

Trust have betrayed me multiple times what about you 😔

Just imagine you saw santa Claus in your dream and when you checked your wallet of satoshi the next day you saw 1 btc. What will you do? 😅 Me: what God can do does exist 😂😂 #bitcoin ##nostr #christmas

My little brother said he won't go to the village because father Christmas will flog him 🤔. So I told him there is no father Christmas in the village just father tapala meaning father masquerade 😂😂 Merry Christmas fam 🌲 #Christmas #Culture #Africa

I was actually celebrating Christmas with joy because I am the only one that have access to my private address 😁. ##nostr #privatekey

I just finished eating Christmas meat and I just remembered today is Christmas 😂😂 Merry Christmas once again fam 🌲🎊 @Olaoluwa Ezekiel Michael and @~Uche😎 please drop location for tomorrow 🙌 I no want hear Christmas don finish 😅😅

The Silent Bias Nigerians Face in Web3 Nigeria continues to top the charts as one of the most active tech ecosystems in Africa. From developers to founders, designers to community builders, Nigerians are everywhere — building, shipping, contributing. Yet, in the global Web3 ecosystem, we are still treated like outsiders. Imagine spending three months building for a hackathon. Countless late nights. No shortcuts. Real innovation. Then out of 160 submitted projects, not a single Nigerian-built project is selected. This is not just disappointing — it is painful. The uncomfortable truth is that location still decides opportunity in Web3, even in an ecosystem that claims to be decentralized and permissionless. Nigerians are often required to work twice as hard, explain twice as much, and still receive half the recognition. Nigeria is already leading tech adoption in Africa. We are early users. Early builders. Early believers. Yet when it is time to reward innovation, we are often ignored, filtered out, or “politely” overlooked. This needs to be addressed. Web3 cannot continue to preach freedom while practicing quiet exclusion. It cannot talk about decentralization while reinforcing modern digital slavery — where talent is extracted, but credit and opportunity are withheld. Enough is enough. If Web3 truly wants to be global, then Nigerian builders must be seen, heard, and treated fairly — not as cheap labor, not as background contributors, but as first-class innovators. The ecosystem must do better.

What Nostr Really Solves Nostr isn’t just another social app. It solves censorship, control, and central ownership. People forget—we’re here because open protocols keep us free.