$95 Application Fee later, I am still here

This article is best enjoyed whilst listening to the song “Running” by NF - https://open.spotify.com/track/1l0wPhFZP1kWkZNQrrYrGy?si=da9fb74ebcc64bb3

Today, an email came in.

It was one of those emails I’ve been expecting and yet dreading. Somehow, my mind had found a way to jinx the response mid-flight through the cosmos of web connections that is the internet.

Some six months prior, I had applied for a creative writing MFA program at Boise State University in Idaho, United States of America. I was optimistic as one usually is about these things. I believed I had the writing chops to be considered for the coveted position as one of their fellows.

I ensured my essay was top-notch, with just the right amount of sob and determination to change the world through writing. I also reached out to someone who recently got a placement at a university similar to mine and got pointers on what I had to do. He coached me, offered good advice, and I was off to the races.

When I began my application, I was broke and without a job. But almost like fate was teasing me, a job soon came through, and within two months, I was able to afford the steep application fee of $95. I was sure this was serendipity. I was sure this was it for me —my moment of bliss.

I was certain this would be my last year of trudging through life in Nigeria. I was soon to be a fellow at a prestigious university studying toward the one thing I’ve always considered myself remotely decent at —writing.

I knew there was a possibility of being rejected. I knew I was up against better writers with more compelling stories that could usurp my chances. But none of that mattered because to me, my story was unique.

Here I was, thirty-three years old, never been on a plane, never owned a car, unmarried, and living in a country that was hellbent of chipping away at my self-esteem daily without fail —who wouldn’t think of my story as compelling enough to give me a chance at transforming my life through stories?

The first indication of my fate came when the email referred me to visit the graduate application portal for an update on my application status.

I’ve lived long enough and been rejected enough times to know that when there’s good news, the email often reads with a large “congratulations” caption at the first two sentences, at least.

But who knows? I reckoned. Maybe this time was to be different.

So, I did as I was asked. I checked the portal.

Well, $95 Application Fee later, and I am still here.