Drowned dreams and faded hopes

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Swimming is one sport that I greatly admire, although it is quite unfortunate that I cannot swim. I mean, I have tried to learn, but try battling with the mental trauma of drowning before dipping a toe inside the water.

My phobia of large water bodies can be traced back to my childhood. Notably, when we were much younger, there were a lot of horrible stories making rounds in the neighborhood about children and teenagers who drowned at the swimming pool. These drowning incidents were usually as a result of their inability to swim and venturing into deep waters with no protective gear. Some of them were so horrific that while these young individuals drown, their friends of whom they went to the pool with would abandon them to fight for their life and usually their bodies would just be seen floating on the water afterwards.

I listened to these stories from my parents, stories that were usually accompanied with serious warnings and threats of drowning if my siblings and I dared step a foot in the swimming pool. Did we listen? Well, not quite, as regardless of the scare, warning, and threats, I wanted to be a good swimmer. So what I did was to reach out to a friend who did not only live close but also tried at swimming.

This friend of mine would always gist us about her swimming experiences during lunch break back then in basic school. According to her, her dad paid for swimming lessons, and it took her 3 months to perfect it. She sounded like such a professional swimmer, and I was forced to ask if she could teach me. She agreed without hesitation, and a date was fixed for Saturdays.

The first Saturday finally came, and I was excited. In fact, I was pumped with joy. We arrived at the swimming pool together, got changed, and then proceeded to the moderately deeper part of the pool.

According to my friend, the goal was to float on water, which she thought I knew how to do, so she instructed me to try holding my breath underwater for 30 seconds. I tried and didn't even last 1 second, as it felt like water was entering my nose and ear.

After my first failed attempt, my friend asked that I try again, this time removing fear and freeing myself to be as lightweight as possible. She showed me a few examples by holding her breath inside water and eventually floating. It looked easy, so I thought I could do it.

Dear readers, I nearly died attempting the second time. Worse still, as I tried to reach the surface for air, my friend restricted me by dipping and holding me inside the water urging me to free myself.

It was then it dawned on me that just because someone can swim doesn't mean they can teach. I realized that she was basically teaching me how she was thought which shouldn't be if she was a professional trainer. I might not know much about swimming but I'm aware that most teaching processes are unique to each individual being taught.

Moving on, I had always felt that surviving such experience with my friend was a miracle. I mean I was lucky to be saved by a young man who was watching the whole process and cautioned her to stop as she was endangering my life. He didn't just caution her; he freed me from her hold and that was the end of my interest in swimming.

I immediately got out of the pool and dressed up, leaving for home. And as I walked out of the premises, I couldn't help but think about all those stories about drowning victims and my parents' warnings.

I did wonder, what if I had actually drowned? Would my friend have abandoned me to my fate? Well, quite unfortunately that my experience with swimming is nothing to write home about; I mean, I can't even float in water, talk less of swimming to save my life.

Sometimes when my mind flashes back to the movie Titanic, I can't help but feel sorry for myself. Imagine the longer hours that Rose had to float for before help finally came. If that was me, I swear I would have been chilling at the bottom of the ocean as fish food, and Jack might probably have died for nothing.