WE DESERVED A HAPPY ENDING (UPDATED)

Foreign Grounds

It marked the day of my departure from the picturesque landscapes of Congo, my first encounter with the world's beauty from miles above. After several hours in flight, we traversed the South African terrain, marveling at its impressive infrastructures. The sheer size of its airport and the surrounding facilities were a spectacle to behold.

Upon arrival at the airport, the grandeur was undeniable. My companion, Idriss, and I, unfamiliar with the procedures, simply followed the crowd, navigating through the vast space. Eventually, we found ourselves in a queue where passports were presented for inspection and stamped—an apparent immigration checkpoint.

Preceding Idriss in line, I submitted my passport only to be directed to wait. Idriss and another compatriot from Congo shared the same fate. Awaiting an uncertain outcome, we were ushered into a room that resembled a waiting area. Momentarily, the thought of fraudulent permits crossed our minds, inducing nervous laughter. When the attendant returned and posed questions in an unfamiliar language, we found ourselves at a linguistic impasse.

Communication devolved into gestures, the sole means of conveying information. After a series of exchanges, we were motioned to follow the attendant. Our passports were returned, granting us freedom to proceed. The subsequent task involved locating our luggage, a challenge exacerbated by our language barrier. Unfamiliar with English and wary of strangers in the cautioned environment of Johannesburg, seeking assistance became a formidable endeavor.

Despite the linguistic challenge, my rudimentary French skills prompted inquiries to those who appeared professional and serious. A series of attempts proved futile until an elderly man, dressed in a beige jacket and black pants, revealed his proficiency in French. Grateful for the assistance, he guided us to retrieve our bags and directed us to the exit where our awaiting brothers stood.
Reuniting with my brother after over five years was an emotional moment. His joy was palpable as he introduced us to Idriss' brother, revealing they were residing together—a fact unbeknownst to us. After capturing the moment in photographs, we proceeded to a fast-food restaurant, where our hosts eagerly shared news of our arrival with friends.

Upon reaching their residence, we quickly changed and were whisked away to meet a pastor. Here, we received advice on navigating the challenges of the country and were encouraged to excel in our studies. Aware of the financial implications, we were cautioned about the high tuition fees, study visa costs, and medical aid expenses. Following the insightful conversation, we retired for the night with the prospect of an early school day ahead.

On Monday, the 4th, our hosts roused us at 5 a.m., escorting us to the university for enrollment in the English program. Accompanied by my brother, we navigated the vast campus, obtaining our student cards amid a substantial queue. The early start proved strategic, as the line indicated we weren't the only ones seeking enrollment.

The following day, orientation provided more insights into the program, introducing us to English-speaking lecturers. The language barrier posed a challenge, but the realization that learning English was essential prompted a commitment to the task. The ten-month program unfolded with remarkable experiences and connections formed with people from diverse backgrounds.

Regrettably, Idriss faced setbacks in the elementary class, prompting a departure to another institution. The program aimed not only to enhance linguistic skills but also to prepare us for future academic pursuits. As the months passed, ambitions for university registration, specializations, master's degrees, and even a PhD emerged among our peers.

Having applied for university, I faced a pivotal decision between Information Systems and Business Information Systems. Circumstances beyond my control led me to a third option—Accountancy and Financial Services and Operations. The weight of deciding my fate rested on my shoulders, a daunting task at the crossroads of uncertainty.

Beside me, my brother offered sage advice, reminding me that the choice was mine to make. Standing at the intersection of diverging paths, each choice carried the weight of unknown consequences. Silence enveloped my thoughts, akin to the quiet before a momentous event. The revelation awaited, and the choice of path lay before me—destined to shape my future.