Between Sips of Zobo and A Story

Well… well… well… people.Anyways, I’m back. Last week I attended an event where a first-time author (I guess) spoke about her newly released book, R.E.S.T. To be honest, while she was on stage talking about it, I wasn’t particularly interested. It wasn’t that anything was wrong—I just didn’t feel drawn in at that moment. But then something very simple happened. I heard, “I am giving out 10 copies for free.” Omo, naso I run go stand for door 😂 And let’s be honest—being Nigerian, if something is free, you’ll at least collect it. And me? I love hoarding books, so I took one copy. That was how I ended up with R.E.S.T. in my hands. Later on, I looked at it again. The design, the cover, the title—it all stood out. But what really made me pause was the thought behind it. This wasn’t just a random book. This was someone’s first publication. Time, effort, money, personal experiences—all poured into these pages. And I thought to myself… hmmm. The least I can do is actually read this book. Not just keep it. Not just admire the cover. But read it, understand it, and give an honest reflection. So on a Friday, I decided to start. What I didn’t expect was to finish it that same day. It wasn’t planned. I just kept turning the pages. From the very first chapter, something pulled me in. The writing was simple and clear, nothing complicated, nothing forced. It flowed in a way that made it easy to stay. The kind of book you can pick up in a quiet moment, with coffee or green tea (I’m on my weight loss journey for the 100th time), and just ease into. But beyond the writing, it was the message that stayed with me. Reading it made me reflect on my own life in ways I didn’t expect. I grew up in a Christian home. Going to church was something my parents guided. But being in university is different. You’re no longer being told what to do—you decide for yourself. You choose whether to show up, whether to believe, whether to stay consistent. And in that space, it’s easy to lose direction sometimes. What stood out to me in the book was that even in moments of pain, confusion, and setbacks, Mweghachi kept returning to God. Not perfectly, not without struggle—but consistently. That felt real. Because the truth is, a lot of people assume that having faith means life becomes easier. That once you believe, everything should fall into place. But that’s not how life works. People struggle. People cry. People question. And sometimes, it even feels like people who aren’t trying as hard are the ones getting ahead. The book didn’t ignore that, it acknowledged it. And that honesty made me think about my own journey. There was a time I struggled with my academics. I had to write my WAEC exams more than once, and I remember how heavy that felt. Watching others move forward while I stayed in the same place. Feeling like I was behind. Questioning everything. But eventually, things worked out for me. Not in the exact way I planned—but in a way that still moved me forward. And looking back now, I understand something I didn’t fully grasp then: life doesn’t follow one timeline. Everyone moves differently. What feels like delay might actually be preparation. That’s one of the strongest things this book reminded me of. That setbacks don’t mean the end.That struggling doesn’t mean failure.That even when things don’t make sense, your story is still unfolding. It also made room for something else—grace. The idea that it’s okay to lose focus sometimes. That it’s okay to feel uncertain. That faith, like life, is not always a straight line. You stumble. You question. You return. And somehow, that’s still part of the journey. While the book is deeply rooted in a Christian perspective, I found that its message goes beyond just one faith. The themes of perseverance, belief, and holding on in difficult times are universal. For someone who is Muslim, for example, you can still connect with it, just in your own language of faith. Where the book says “God,” you may see “Allah,” but the core message remains the same: holding on, believing, and trusting through uncertainty. By the time I finished the book, it wasn’t just about what I had read—it was about what it made me confront within myself. It started as a book I picked up simply because it was free. It ended as something that made me pause, reflect, and rethink. And maybe that’s what makes a book truly stay with you. Not just what it says… but what it awakens in you.

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