“Miss Emma Kimani, from Kenya, Africa, the stage is all yours.”

I adjusted my glasses. Thank goodness, I had my lens changed. Before, everything looked quite blurred.

A couple thousand people from all walks of life, including presidents,looked up with expectation. My free, African dress felt a little tight. I represented the African people. A number of us did. Every innovator died to get an invitation to the coveted World Innovators Forum. The world would watch with admiration as you showcased your ingenuity and hard work.

Once, I dreamt of being here in this land—’a land of opportunities,’ but for a different reason.

Thank goodness, the ‘dark narrative’ had been rewritten. My literature teacher had successfully done it, at least in my view.

“The world is ailing. It’s waiting for you, and you for a cure.” In a class of sixty, I felt like she addressed me directly.

No way, AI, good education, art, and so on came from anywhere else but where I came from.

Her words stuck with me.

My mom wore a knowing smile. She knew it was no small feat to get here. Others had made it; she often said I would too.

The journalists adjusted their cameras.

I sipped some water and cleared my throat. Time literally flew by, my thirty minutes nearly elapsing.

“In conclusion, I am on this world stage because, contrary to the old narrative, my literature teacher taught me to believe—to believe that the world waited for me. How did I do it? Well, I changed my lens. Thank you.”