Electrons, Emotions, and Everything in Between

My name is Mahara. I am a Year 2.

And before I say anything else, I want to make one thing very clear.

I am not up here because I have everything figured out.

I am up here because I survived.

Barely. But still, survived.

I remember the day I arrived at ALA.

I stepped onto this campus with my bags, my dreams, and let's be honest, a very dangerous amount of confidence. My old school was nothing like this. Back home, I knew how everything worked. I had my people, my rhythm, my whole system.

But I showed up to ALA thinking:

“New country. New chapter. New Mahara.”

I was ready to dominate.

Academically? Easy.

Socially? Even easier.

Finding my footing? Please. Watch me.

Then week two happened.

I walked into my first Chemistry class… and the teacher was speaking English… but I genuinely could not tell.

Electrons. Orbitals. Molar mass.

I looked around the room. Everyone was nodding. Taking notes. Looking focused, especially Ademidun.

I was just sitting there like…

“Is this the same subject I did at my old school?”

Spoiler: it was, I was just not prepared, and sometimes I feel like I'm still not prepared.

Now. I need to talk about Chemistry.

Because Chemistry and I… we had a complicated relationship.

Year 1, Chemistry was humbling me quietly. Year 2, Term 1? Chemistry stopped being quiet. I got my Chemistry results back…

And let’s just say my grade was roughly the same as my age.

Now. For context, I am 19.

That is not a percentage you want to see on your academic report. (That is a percentage that makes you sit down and rethink your entire existence.)

I remember staring at that number thinking:

“Mahara. What is really going on?”

And the worst part? I had tried. I genuinely had tried.

I sat in class. I watched videos. I read the textbook. (The textbook read back at me like it was personally offended.)

That Chemistry grade was the moment I had to be honest with myself. Not everything here would come to me naturally. And that was terrifying.

Meanwhile, on top of the Academic chaos… I was also just trying to understand people.

ALA has students from all over Africa, which is beautiful. It is genuinely one of my favourite things about this place.

But those first few weeks? It was a lot to decode.

In my very first week, a Nigerian student, Ajibola, walked up to me, looked me dead in the eyes and said:

“How far?”

And I panicked.

How far what? How far from where? Are we measuring distance right now?

I said, “Sorry?” (He laughed. I laughed. Neither of us knew what the other was confused about.)

Turns out “How far” just means “how are you.”

I now say it almost all the time.

But in that moment, I realised something important. This place was going to require me to learn, not just Chemistry, but people. Cultures. Languages. Ways of being that were completely different from mine.

And I was not going to survive ALA by staying in my comfort zone.

Here is where my story turns.

Because in the middle of all of that – the failing Chemistry, the culture confusion, the feeling of not being enough – I had music.

What’s a Mahara speech without music? Music has always been mine. It is the one place I have never felt lost.

When ALA felt overwhelming, I would just put in my AirPods and just… breathe. When a grade broke me, music put me back together. When I missed home, a song could take me back in seconds.

And somewhere in that process, I started making home here too.

Not because ALA had become easy. But because I stopped waiting to feel comfortable and started building something in it.

I found my people. I found my rhythm. I found my Mahara, the ALA version.

And slowly, this place that felt so foreign… started to feel like mine.

So to my Year 1’s.

Some of you are in your confidence phase right now. Good. Enjoy it. Some of you have already had your first Chemistry moment. I see you. You will be okay.

Here is what I wish someone had told me:

Your grade is not your identity.

A bad mark does not mean you do not belong here. It means that you are in the right environment to grow even if the Chemistry disagrees.

Confusion is not weakness.

When someone asks, “How far?” and you do not understand, ask. Lean in. The weirdest moments are where the best friendships start.

Find the thing that is yours.

Music saved me. Yours might be sport, art, writing, cooking, comedy, magic, or anything. Hold onto it. Especially when ALA is heavy.

Make it home.

Your old life was real, and it mattered. But this place can become home too, if you let it. Stop waiting to feel ready. Start building.

My ALA story is not the one I imagined when I arrived.

I had Chemistry grades that made me question everything. Nigerian slang I did not understand. Nights held together by music and good people. And more growth than I expected.

I had been messy. Hilarious. Hard. And completely worth it.

So my dear Year 1’s:

Fail loudly. Ask “How far?” and mean it. Find your music. And make this place YOURS.

Because the version of you that walks across this stage in a year and ninety-four days…

Will be someone you are incredibly proud of.