The venue for the National Interschool Debate was nothing like Salem had ever seen before.
Rows of polished seats rose like steps in an ancient theatre. Cameras were everywhere, their blinking red lights reminding her that this was being broadcast live across the country.
On stage, the flags of each participating state stood tall behind the teams. Salem’s heart raced when she saw their own banner among them. This wasn’t just for her school anymore this was for the entire state she represented.
David sat beside her, flipping through their notes one last time.
“You ready?” he whispered.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, though her palms felt damp.
The opposing team was from one of the most prestigious schools in Lagos — sharp blazers, polished accents, the kind of students who looked like they had been preparing for this moment since birth. And at the centre of their table, sitting confidently, was none other than Amara. She had made it to the nationals with another team, and the smirk she threw Salem’s way said everything: We meet again.
The topic for the first round was announced:
“Should technological advancement take precedence over environmental preservation?”
David opened for their team, laying out clear points for why environmental preservation should be prioritised without rejecting technology entirely. His voice was calm, steady, and respectful — the kind of tone that made the judges lean in.
Then Amara took the stage for her opening. She was flawless, as always — confident, articulate, and loaded with statistics. Salem felt the knot in her stomach tighten.
When her turn came, Salem walked up to the microphone. For a moment, the hall seemed impossibly quiet. She took a breath and began.
“While technology has brought us progress, I believe we must ask ourselves what use is progress if we have no planet to enjoy it on? You cannot drink clean water from a phone. You cannot breathe fresh air from a factory’s exhaust.”
She saw heads nodding. She pushed further, weaving in examples from recent oil spills in the Niger Delta, the decline of certain wildlife, and the rise in flooding due to deforestation.
By the time she ended with, “Technology should serve the Earth, not destroy it,” the hall erupted in applause.
Round after round, Salem’s confidence grew.
Her rebuttals were sharp but respectful.
Her facts were precise.
And each time she spoke, the applause grew louder.
Midway through the competition, the moderator introduced the “Quick Response” segment a sudden burst of rapid-fire questions from various fields.
“What is the capital of Bhutan?”
“Thimphu.”
“Name the Nigerian Nobel Laureate in Literature.”
“Wole Soyinka.”
“What is Newton’s Third Law of Motion?”
“For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
The questions came from science, literature, geography, and history, and Salem answered most of them without hesitation. Even the judges exchanged impressed glances.
By the final round, the tension was razor-sharp. Both teams were tied. The last question would decide the champion.
The moderator looked at Salem. “Final question: In one sentence, explain why the protection of cultural heritage is essential in the modern world.”
Salem stepped forward.
“Because a people without their heritage are like a tree without roots they may stand for a time, but eventually, they will fall.”
The hall went silent for a beat, and then thunderous applause.
When the scores were announced, Salem and David’s team took first place.
The moment she stepped off the stage, reporters swarmed her.
“How old are you?”
“How did you prepare?”
“What’s next for you?”
Then the gifts began scholarship offers from multiple universities, envelopes with cash prizes, a fully paid family vacation abroad from a tourism company, and more.
Salem felt like she was walking through a dream. All she could think was, If only Mum and Dad could see me now.
She caught Amara’s eye in the crowd. The girl was clapping, but the pride in her face was gone. Salem didn’t even smirk victory tasted sweeter without rubbing it in.