My name is Nwachukwu Nicholas Edumanichukwu. I’m originally from Abuja, Nigeria, and I moved to the United States in 2014.
A First Encounter With Water
My first attempt at swimming was with friends in an abandoned pit roughly half the size of a standard pool, filled with muddy rainwater collected during storms. I kept my eyes open underwater, which was a poor choice. Though the water was shallow, that brief, blurry glimpse was enough to ignite my curiosity and spark a determination to learn how to swim properly.
I wanted to learn, but with no public pools available, my practice was limited to holding my breath by dunking my head in an iron bucket of bathwater before washing up. It was all the preparation I could manage for my next plunge into that murky brown pit.
A Father’s Gift
One sweltering afternoon, my father surprised us. He’d scrimped and saved enough to treat our family of seven to Grand Ibro Hotel in Abuja, home to a real swimming pool. He was the only one among us who knew how to swim, skills he had honed in the streams and rivers of his village childhood.
I was buzzing with excitement to finally be in clear water. I didn’t know pools had depth markings. I leapt straight into the six-foot end and sank like a stone. Someone hauled me out, but I wasn’t finished. I strapped on a waist float and tried again, only to flip upside down. That was enough adventure for one day.
A Near Miss in Ghana
Years later, while living in Ghana, I attended a school event centered around a pool. I was no longer afraid of water itself, but terrified of not knowing how to save myself if I started drowning. Still, I decided to challenge myself. I eased in from the shallow end—one foot, two feet—progressing step by step to what I thought was five. But a crack in the depth marker had warped the “6” into a “5.” I stepped forward and dropped straight into the deep end.
I sank, flailing. No one nearby noticed at first, and the panic pulled others under with me. I was certain this was the end. Then my friend Dan spotted me struggling, dove in without hesitation, and hauled me to safety.
My next pivotal encounter with water came in Jamaica, where I confronted my fear head-on. Out in the open ocean, two lifeguards flanked me, urging me on. It was daunting at first, but pushing through transformed me. I refused to let fear dictate my life. I needed to master swimming, not just for myself, but for my daughters. I never wanted to be helpless if they were ever in danger near water.
Finding Confidence at the YMCA
Back in the U.S., I enrolled in swim lessons at the YMCA. There, I met two extraordinary instructors, Isaac Nutter and Al Fager, who challenged me to break through my limits. Front and back floats were pure nightmares, but I kept going, trusting their watchful eyes as my safety net. The greatest lesson wasn’t the strokes—it was recovery. Knowing how to regain control if I panicked gave me unshakeable confidence: fail, reset, try again, improve.
For the first time, I learned to breathe rhythmically while swimming. I’m far from perfect, but I’m progressing every day. My parents beam with pride, especially after I survived two near-drownings. What once terrified me now fills me with gratitude.
Today, I can declare with pride: I can swim.
For that, I’m profoundly thankful to the United States, the YMCA, Ashley Wills, and everyone who helped me transform fear into strength.
