Struggling out of a 2:2 this final year: my Biomedical Science tale


I barely bore you with events of my university life on here but I know once in a while I drop one or two major ones. Going back to 2015, my first year, I had blogged about my resits (What if? #17), how awful it felt to had seen my name amongst those resitting Genetics and Statistics. How sad and unlucky my summer was. What I didn’t include was calling my parents and letting them know about the situation. The disappointment in their tone as they spoke to me whilst trying to be good parents and not make me feel worse about the whole situation, the after effect of the whole conversation moved me. I guess my attitude towards everything relating to university and my course became more questionable as days, months and years went by.

Second year was heavy. As my course is a three-year course here in the UK, more pressure was mounted on me and more effort was equally demanded with the load that came with the 12 modules I had done last year. The hustle to secure a placement made it even worse but that wasn’t an excuse not to scale through. At the end of the year, I was awoken yet again by another resit which until today I have managed to  hide from my parents as I felt they would be bitter and really angry towards me if I had told them. Genetics again! At some point in time I joked about it to my friends, telling them how I’m “KINGING” in genetics resit zone. What felt terrible isn’t the fact that I had a resit, what made me break down most nights was the fact that 2:2 ends up being my portion even when I always seem to start off very well at the beginning of each semester. At some point, I just stopped asking why and accepted that university wasn’t for me. Thoughts of dropping out kicked in every now and then but the friends in my circle kept me grounded. They said my prayers with me, cried with me and most of all, they contributed to my healing and strength which led me into pursuing my final year.

It’s the 25th of February today, 22 weeks into final year and there is still no salvaging to my results so far. It hasn’t been stable and at the same time it hasn’t been the most brilliant. One half of my project and most of my course works released so far have been fluctuating with 2:1’s and 2:2’s. My first semester results came out and this time Genetics crossed the cut off point with only 7 marks and I’m most grateful to God for that miracle! the other paper sat comfortably on a 2:1 which to me is gracious. Hard-work and resilience have been with me since the school year started and to be honest with you,  it is a struggle trying to move up from a 2:2. I am 3 weeks into second semester  with 3 more course works, 4 more exams and my main project to finish. I am still with hope and so should you who is reading this thinking you’re sitting in the worst position or situation in life.

If everyone was equal, there wouldn’t be no school, no competition whatsoever and definitely no evolution but other people’s success shouldn’t stall us from ours or blind us from attaining  unmeasurable success instead it should push us.


I did tweet this last week but it doesn’t mean I can’t do better. In fact it is not an excuse! It is the reason why I’m pushing to move on from a 2:2, proving to myself that even if it’s not for me, it is definitely not impossible!

I hope you find a grip too and go on from there dear reader. Do leave your thoughts and comments in the box below. Thank you.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.


Blogging series 6: Never have I ever

by Dyna Ekwueme

Image result for running away

Picture gotten from-Runningaway


Being vulnerable about my fantasies and sexual cravings for certain kinds of profane words and touch that emits all kinds of vibrations in my writing. Never have I ever been found writing about my wants for  someone else, someone who doesn’t want me, someone who probably thinks I don’t exist. The hypnosis of my feelings, like a spree cursed by a god.


The writer’s block I get every now and then, fleeing from my blog like I’m all about that busy life. I wouldn’t write about the long piles of unpublished posts in my draft which has me thinking “I’m not good enough for me”. The resits people don’t see but praise me for as a university girl. The pain and struggle behind it all tends to be hidden in what appears to be like “she’s doing okay” to you.


With self-obsessive writing blinding me, I fail to write for those who need their voices projected, for those who look up to words to heal them, for those who are not educated and need their tears sent to the government, parliament, leaders, charity organizations and philanthropic bodies through my writing. Never have I ever written enough for change, for love for others, for unity, for development and for substance of evolution.

Part 2 contributed by Emediong Etetim

Everyone feels they understand the level of pain or frustration I’m in. To them, only my feet is touching the water. To me, only my head is above the water. Never have my words been understood but rather misconstrued. Now to live a life where it is okay to not have to explain myself at every turn is all I crave to have.

Disclaimer: This piece was originally written by me and part contributed by Emediong Etetim. No one else had contributed to this piece. 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.



Blogging series 5: The spirit behind “I am”

by Marvel Augustine

Image result for who you are in black and white

Picture gotten from- siouxlander

In life you go through a conditioning process, it creates a mindset (habitual) overflowing with ‘I AM NOTs’. I’ll throw in more light here, take for example; as a young girl of nubile age but you seem to have a broken relationship always, you find yourself with the wrong men and so on. You feel really bad and believe that you are not good enough, you look into the mirror and compare yourself to a glamorous movie idol or homecoming queen and say to yourself, I am not attractive.

Your relationship fractures, and you then begin to think you’re unloved or unworthy. Better still as a schoolchild with a less satisfactory scores (grades) on your report card, you say to yourself, “I am not smart”. These and many more are continuous occurrences you develop all through the years and into adulthood, which begins to define the way you see yourself.

Overcoming this “I am not” mindset  or mentality begins with trusting your inner spirit. There are no boundaries restricting your inner spirit, but your worldview and conceptions to the outer world are defined by this, using your five senses. The outer world is always changing, which, by our definition, means it is not real. This awareness that remains unchanging is the only reality that could lead you to experiencing a majestic wake-up

Run through as many inventories as you can of the things that you would like to define your life with, then make the shift of your imaginations from “I AM NOT” to “I AM”. If you want what follows “I AM” to be harmonious, you should become conscious of what affects your inner spirit. Change the words that define the concept of yourself. Reword your inner mindset first, then seek to gain access to the real you and all that you  desire.

The words “I AM” which you consistently use should define who you truly are and what you are capable of. It should be represented as meek as that of the holy expression for the name of God. Always make your very first consideration the honor of your divine spirit. This will allow you rise to previously unimagined heights.Spiritual acknowledgement is a trigger to the power of “I AM”. Teach your outer self to acknowledge the Supernatural power of your inner spirit.

“I AM”, two of the most powerful words ever, whatever you put after them defines your reality. Stay positive!

Disclaimer: This piece was originally written by Marvel Augustine and this is one of the media he chose to share his inspirational piece. No parts were added by me or anyone. 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

Blogging series 4: Forest of Promise

by Aiidee Sinclair

I was on my way to Bonny Island to see a relative. We had boarded a ship and sailed off. After about 35 mins we heard fired gunshots. 

Image result for island with green forests

Picture gotten from-Thailand

“what is the problem?” I asked one of the cabin crew.” our ship is under attack by a group of gangsters ” a man I could I tell from his voice was in great panic answered.

“what?!” I screamed on top of my voice with my heart throbbing aloud.

“Please Mr. help me! they are after me” said the most beautiful and gorgeous girl I have ever seen, crying by the end of the ship just close to the entrance of the main door.

I wasn’t in my right thinking as I forgot for a moment that we were in a great deal of danger. Her natural beauty got me. I finally decided to help, as what else was there to do when we were under attack by the unknown. As I pulled her up from the ground, she seemed frightened and had given me a distrustful look.

“What is happening? what offence did you commit? was it you who had caused this attack?” I asked furiously not minding if she had answers to it or not. It felt like such a nightmare. ” I was about to be smuggled into a world that doesn’t exist, I had escaped before my abductors knew what was next”  she replied with a hasty look. 

“boss! there she is” A man with a huge jaw beard appeared from behind her. She turned,  pointing at the three hefty men with large figures and a mean lookwalking towards us with the man I had seen at first, screaming 

“please Mr. help me! those men are after me”, I quickly grabbed her by her hand  and began running towards the front of the ship not knowing where this will eventually lead us.

“There is no other option than for us to jump as many of the crew had done” I said softly to her when we got to the front top of the ship. She didn’t hesitate but jumped off the ship. I followed swiftly. We swam for what seemed like an eternity until I passed out….

we found ourselves at the shore of the sea surrounded by thick green forests….

To be continued…

Disclaimer: This piece was originally written by Aiidee Sinclair and this is one of the media he chose to share his fictional prose. No parts were added by me or anyone. 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.


Blogging series 2: The broken man

by Tom junior

Image result for broken man in black and white

Picture gotten from-Brokenabstract

The broken man laid in his room
He starred at the ceiling and created his own stars
He engulfed himself in the warmth of his hand
He ignored the pains and survived, but never forgot what caused him pain.

The broken man wiped the unending tears from his eyes
He walked up to the wall and turned on the light
He walked to the mirror and smiled in delight
What a beautiful soul full of tears and so much pain?
What a beautiful soul that was all he could say.

The broken man picked up his pieces
Broke them further and put them in places
He allowed his tears mend them
He promised never to be called the broken man again.

The broken man was mended
Despite the dark room he found light
Despite his cloaked eyes he created with stars
Despite the battered life he found his peace
All these came true, he was determined, focused and willing to let go of the past and all he had believed in.

Part 1: contributed by Marvel Augustine

After all the pain the broken man had been through,

he searched for amendments,

even though he was ignorant that mending one’s self could be done by himself.

 After many years of searching, he created a world of his own.

Hell knew him but he didn’t give up,

determined not to be called the broken man ever again.

Disclaimer: This piece was originally written by Tom Junior and part contributed by Marvel Augustine. No parts were added by me . 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

Evidence: In My Own Skin

I don’t know what’s hidden behind your own pigment. As an individual, I can’t speak for your own representation, the way you want the world to see you, the way you choose to feel.

Picture gotten from-BlackandWhite

I use “I”.

I use it because as a person, you are allowed what you are, your opinions, thoughts, perception. Freedom. You.

What about “us”?

Collectively we’ve made generations, we’ve brought about various changes, we’ve stood against fear, we’ve beared war strokes, we’ve failed and conquered, we’ve told these stories over and over yet we’ve only been able to achieve these by mere differences in skin colour.

You still believe in different races?

How many parents have inculcated values, norms and discipline without speaking of other skin colours? How many of us have been promised a position or title without having a black, white or mixed skin option stall us? How many are guilty of the type of skin colour they allow in their space? How many still don’t believe in one race, the human race?

“I’m white, you’re not, I’m black, you’re not”

How long are we willing to go on for?

As a black woman, I believe in my roots and culture. I believe in the wars of my heroes’ past. I believe that those wars were won for my freedom today. I believe I’m seldom jugded by the profounding effect of my melanocytes, distrusted often and doubted when I’m most willing. I believe I have to be sorry even when I’m not, questioned for my rights in another man’s country. I believe I have to go hard if ever I want to rise above standards. I believe I’m unique, so are you, no matter what your skin colour is.

In this age, more people are being educated on oneness, more are taught on accepting every other distinct colour from theirs yet, in this age the skin colour black still bleeds. It is still perceived as unaccepted in most parts of the world, demeaning individuals who bear them.

How more can I be Human?

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

Surviving May June

In all, pleasure sorted itself out in dark corners. I had promised my failures that we wouldn’t cross paths again. My timetable never said otherwise. I lost the weak ones. Those who couldn’t keep up with the wind that came after my very own air. I lost friends, made new ones, met him and kept detesting red and black cars. Only lonely knew me, only in that place did I transcend. I survived the wreck of friendships, jealousy and choky presence.

Picture gotten fromTurtlesandTails


How did I let it all go?

Life has a way of measuring our good deeds and sewing them back in bit-by-bit in places and times we least expect.

How did I come to accept?

I forgave my wrongs. I set myself free from my own trap. I held onto the light I hadn’t seen yet. It kept me going. It still is.


I had one where I was rejected nine times, never gave up, waited on the last but yet, it still rejected me. Placements were hard to secure, but I did my best applying. I had one where I was hunted by colours, the ones I once loved, owned by people I once loved in a city I’m still totally in love with. I had moments where I crept. School toilets and my bed became more consoling than crowded rooms. I became my own people, more with myself and less of myself with non-appreciative people. Loving and loving the hell out of me.

Exam timetable wasn’t a shock, the distribution of modules in it was.


I’ve never believed in being a geek myself, as I do believe in others. I read through nights and nights and crammed those recommended textbooks through days I’d rather my cosy attic room. I was asked more than once “where’s your life?”, I ignored wandering how they couldn’t see it happening. School became life. It still is. At some point, I found myself in conversations where I turned social dialogues into what I’ve been learning and reading for the past one year. I started eating an apple, green banana and grapes each passing day as I learnt it reduces your risk of getting bowel cancer whilst avoiding trans fat foods and eating a wide variety of foods. * Okay now I’m doing it again on this post*

When you begin to see yourself that way, you begin to feel more, not just about the idea of school but of the existence you can bring from all that you’ve learnt. It’s a beautiful feeling. Learning, practicing and being able to teach others.


For me, I feel as though it isn’t here yet. Been working 12 hours shifts from the friday I wrote my last examination until this very moment that I’m taking a break in a care home. Care assistant.

I’ve thought of dying more than I have of surviving lately, that is why I’ve decided to leave with a purpose, no matter how small.

I just started living.

Tell me what you have survived lately dear reader.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

For every wasted pain

Pain is divine

pain is growth

pain is a drug

pain is a kind of touch

pain lives

pain is an experience

Picture gotten from-Syria

For every wasted pain, there is divinity, there is growth, you heal, you feel, you have the courage to move on and live your life but most importantly, you learn. For every wasted pain, there is a fulfilling gain.

As a teenager, I always worried about not doing things right, about not meeting or living up to the expectations of my parents, about being the weird and awkward one. I broke rules, lied, dissappointed myself and went to deep ends in search of the truth I was already told. I derailed in most journeys, lost touch, hid, cried and returned. People were still people. The only change there was back then, was the one pain brought.

I remember my first failure ever in high school, mathematics. I was in the third year of my junior secondary, and the top class in my set. I never saw it coming but it did come anyway. My dad scolded the life out of me, I felt really bad not for myself but for him. I thought about the investment he had made in my life and the result I had come home with and promised myself never to fail mathematics in my life again. I hid my results the whole year from my mates, it was a pain to endure as I wasn’t open and vulnerable about it.

I also remember being known for my terrible grammar and thick native accent. One part of me despised the other, leaving me with the sore of bearing what people threw at me  and my broken self. However, smile and laughter was my only revenge, as they did help most times.

I looked back and thought before putting this down. If I were perfect back then? ipeniwrite wouldn’t exist. If 100 percent of the time I pleased my parents, there would have been nothing left to teach me. If my grammar and accent was like the rest, I probably wouldn’t try to pick up a few words or even bother to fake a British accent, like I always do every now and then.

I have come to realize that I grew partly from pain. I’m here because I lived through it. I didn’t let it suffocate me, I didn’t push so hard to unravel people’s mysteries. For every pain I felt was wasted as a teenager, it made me a better adult. I urge you to grow too from pain, dear teen.

What is it that fascinated you about today’s episode of TTTT?


Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

what’s your shame? #13

Most people hold back goodness because their hearts are burdened

When you lighten what your heart carries, when you worry less and when you exhibit a cheerful character, you find it really easy to put smiles on people’s faces. Life is a walk of shame. People would only show you what they need you to see. They would keep discrete their pains, cries, struggles, perseverance and most of all knowledge, and show you how stronger they’ve grown. This is why many are deceived or let me say made to believe that it’s easy to get whatsoever you want in life. Behind every diamond you see, is dirt, mud, stones, gravel, water and sand rubbed against it. You can’t want to be successful if you want to be lazy, you can’t be in need of fame if you don’t want to sacrifice one or two values of yours.

So I ask you today, what’s your shame? what do you think you have been through that no one has? Why withhold a smile? why cause others pain because you’ve been through same pain? Why neglect someone in need because you have it all? why curse a generation you would never live to know? why do things because of others not because its what you want? why do you want to be soaked in wrong?

Your shame should strengthen you. It should make you learn and grow. You should never see your shame as shame but as an upliftment, because when you heal from its pieces you can never break in that form again. Your shame should bring out the good and best in you.

what shame of yours have you changed to something good and tangible in your life. Would love to know, share with us in the comment box below. Thank you.


Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2015.

The sixth sense #8

Processed with VSCOcam with b5 preset

Sometimes I presume that we don’t mean to judge people, our senses overshadow our hearts. You are standing by a busy street distributing flyers for a special occasion, I guess you would tend to give flyers to those that look good and cheerful than those covered in dirt and rags. You are human and its natural for your five senses to be at alert that time filtering what poses to be bad.

Today I feel sore. I feel like I judged my self, I let my senses over ride my sixth sense, my heart. I traded sin for sin which left me gnashing my teeth with a heavy spirit today. It’s not ordinary, its unforgiveable. I realised that my heart plays a much more vital role when it comes to my decisions, not just what I see, hear, perceive, taste or feel. Every move I make is embedded inside.

The sixth sense, your heart is your palace. Your treasure that shouldn’t be compromised. I want us to always look beyond what our senses tells us when judging people. I urge you to nurture your heart with good and unending kindness. This is a therapy to healing, trust me. I urge you to connect dots with your heart with what you see, hear, taste, perceive and feel, it makes you less prone to judging people and more to putting yourself in their shoes. Everyone is guilty of being a judge over others, but you can still change that about you today.

I am not proud of most things I’ve said and done, but am happy am learning. Discovering every bit that lead to my mistakes and correcting them the best possible way I can. How was your #8 day? please tell us how it’s been for you and  share your thoughts below. Thank you.


Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2015.