To Dream Is To Live
When I was a child, all that mattered to me was my mother, my family, and Nando, my town. My identity was formed, shaped, and defined by them. It didn’t occur to me that one day I would leave my town for a foreign country, far away from home—a country with entirely different ways of doing things: language, attitude, and approach to life. To ten-year-old me, Nando was everything good, as a thing is to a person, and nothing bad. That doesn’t mean bad things weren’t happening when I was growing up; they certainly were. Bad things happen everywhere people live because bad people, anywhere and everywhere, make bad things happen.
Leaving Nando for another town was a shocker. It meant I could no longer play under the udara tree, hit cashew nuts with other kids, roll tires with my friends as we walked barefoot, or go to the stream to fetch water with my distant cousin from my paternal side, who came to visit my grandmother. I left to attend secondary school, or what, in some parts of the world, including Russia, is known as high school. But I never imagined I would leave. While I was curious about the world and enjoyed reading books—mostly foreign books—I wasn’t longing to leave until my first year at the University of Ibadan. There, an egotistical professor made a demeaning comment in class about someone I revered, and I didn’t have the chance to respond because responding meant jeopardizing my academic future. In most Nigerian universities, if not all, university teachers are “big men.” Questioning or challenging their opinions equates to setting yourself up for academic failure, as the professor might deliberately fail you until you either beg for mercy, bribe your way through school (which happens in various universities around the world), or drop out of school out of frustration. This loud, pompous Nigerian “big man” professor, who doesn’t represent all but certainly many, made me want to leave Nigeria. And I did. I was fortunate to receive a scholarship and come to HSE University to study, and by September 2025, I will have lived in Russia for three years.
What have these three years meant to me? Honestly, studying at HSE University, an elite, competitive research university, is a privilege. Some Russian students I’ve spoken to talk about the university with glowing, reverent admiration compared to other elite Russian universities like Saint Petersburg State University, Moscow State University, MGIMO, and others that receive international students every year. “You know, HSE University is really modern, and the curriculum is advanced. Their professors are young intellectuals who understand the current needs of the job market,” my roommate once told me in his thick Russian accent. “In that university,” he said, referring to another university we were discussing that afternoon, “they have mostly old professors who resist change and teach what’s difficult to apply in society now.” Some of what he said about HSE University was true: the content is relevant, except for my strong dissatisfaction with some technical courses we were required to study in Political Science, and the professors are young intellectuals, except for a few who, in my opinion, have no business teaching at a university, like my first-year statistics teacher. HSE University is indeed modern, advanced, and intellectually curious about the world and its changing dynamics. But for me, as a Nigerian student, HSE is more than that. It’s also about the things not in the curriculum that have shaped me over the last three years. In a world that is tense and crazed, with many marginalized people and so many young people, especially young men, under pressure, it seems to me, as a student of Political Science and World Politics, that the intangibles are far more important than what’s in the curriculum. The curriculum ends after a period of time, but those other things carry one into the workplace, their interactions with society, their relationships, and, by extension, to the next generation. There is nothing more humanely pure than passing on to the next generation the best we, as collective individuals, can offer.
We can add to the world meaningfully by being ourselves, being curious, and being open-minded. None of these qualities requires being from a privileged country, family, or upper social class. While a country of origin, family, and social class can influence some aspects of a person’s life, curiosity and open-mindedness are like a gift that keeps giving, willing to embrace anyone ready to embrace it. While my study at HSE University has had some challenging parts, the depressing parts, the loss of a loved one, and other things, these three years have given me so much. So much that I didn't know had happened until I had some moments of introspection, reflection and interviewed different students this semester.
In the second year of my studentship, I told myself that I had tried. Things were not working out: no job, no one like me in my programme as the only Black student, struggling to understand Russians, which seemed very difficult, everything overly competitive. I told myself that it was time to drop out, to find something to do. The sad thing is that because of the peculiarity of my background, “my Nigerianness,” I had to appear strong. This staying strong is obviously what men are known for, and later on, I would learn that some of my Russian classmates had the same pressures, but for different reasons. I began to search for universities in the United States. I was later admitted to a community college. Then came another challenge: finance. How would I finance the journey? There were other difficult questions that I asked myself at the time, which still remain unanswered. It was at this point that I decided to stay and continue my study at the university and to face the challenge squarely. It was at the time of joblessness, immense financial needs, and very difficult courses with no friend to discuss them with that I found in myself, and in prayer to God, the ability to be resilient. HSE University Saint Petersburg, like many students who stayed, taught me resilience through the struggles and challenges. Some people quit. Discomforts are not pleasant. And the unfair thing about discomfort is that not everyone is given the grace or gift to stay through. The fight-or-flight instinct plays a critical role. People who choose flight, because that is how they know to survive, are not failures or losers and are definitely not less human than those who choose to fight, not knowing whether they will win or lose. I learned resilience the hard way at HSE University, and looking back now, I am happy that I stayed through. I believe that we will tell the stories of our lives based on the battles we fought and the challenges we overcame. The battles we lose are as important as those we won. If the stairway to heaven were smooth, it would be crowded, and many who desired it would not be able to reach there.
And to my resilience is a dream. Dreams wake up in the morning, and hope leads us through the day. To stop dreaming and believing in them is to stop breathing and start dying. I carry my dream and all that I can do to help others along with me. To stay through and fight harder, I had to convince myself that my dream was valid and achievable. To dream does not mean a lack of obstacles. In fact, obstacles are a result of dreams. The obstacle could be where we are and where we want to be, how the world sees the dream, and how we feel people see it. It is easy to be counseled to “ignore others” and focus on our dream. We live as social animals. Pretending that others are not there—the naysayers, the suspicious, the doubters, the queriers—does not mean they are not there. They are. And the way they interpret your dream or aspiration matters. For instance, a Syrian and a Dutch person who want to pursue their dreams are seen differently. If their dream takes them to another country like the United Kingdom, they will be perceived and welcomed differently. The Syrian, at border control, will be seen as fleeing poverty, war, or a terrible regime and will be subjected to different questions to prove that he or she is truly what they say they are. The Dutch person, at the same border control, will be an explorer wanting to contribute to society. The dream is the same. What is different is the passport they carry, the language they speak, the kind of government they have, the color of their skin or eyes, or whether they speak in a “funny” way—as if any of these is a choice of the person or makes them a good or bad person, or as if it is their decision to be from where they come from. Do any of these mean one should stop dreaming and seeking a life where they can help others? No. To stop dreaming is to stop breathing and start dying. Whether those dreams are actualized or not, dreaming them and working toward them is important.
Finally, I learned how to count my blessings, to be grateful for what I was given, and to give back. Helping those in need is the whole essence of living. In helping, we must help without dehumanizing, and help should not be a means to everlasting subjugation but rather a means to have another person stand and follow the light of destiny as it shines on their face. HSE University Saint Petersburg is beautifully challenging, as many elite universities are, but I have been nourished here. My curiosity and dreams, the engine that propels one’s life, are still alive. And I have learned to live wisely, to be curious, to be resilient, and, most importantly, to be a good person, because that’s the essence of living and being.
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