Participant Profile

                                
The Bowl of Rich
Life whispers, but sometimes it shouts. That shout came one rainy night in Zaria. I was seventeen, dreaming of becoming an engineer, ashamed of my father’s farm work. “This hoe won’t shape my future,” I’d say. After an argument, I left—hungry, wet, and proud. An old woman kindly gave me a warm bowl of rice. “Rice doesn’t grow with pride,” she said. “It needs patience, rain, and dirt—like people.” I cried, understanding true humility. Her words changed me, teaching me to value hard work every day, forever grateful for that lesson.