Look at them; young, beautiful, gorgeous, brilliant
women; the so called nation builders. Shoes shining new, green khaki shaped to
fit their bodies, pressed with coal irons so that they stand out against the
sun. White vest designed in the nations green and white and washed clean like
the smell of a fresh start in life. Face beaming with pride at being inducted
into the system. Smile tugging at the side of her face, hope shining in her
eyes and faith shooting from the pores of her skin. That is what every corp
member looks like at the start of the service year. You are filled with two
things only; hope and faith. Hope that things will get better by the time you
are shoved into the labour market and faith that you will be the special person
who gets a job right after NYSC. Nobody tells you that there is a reality far
harsher than what you will ever imagine. No one tells you about the long period
of time when bread for breakfast is a bleak thought and an enabling environment
to call home are a far off illusion.
I remember being a corper; I remember the ordeal I
went through. How I was pushed off to Borno State by a NYSC director whose ego
was hurt because I had turned down his repeated invitations to spend the night
with him in a hotel. I remember having to beg him to redeploy me back to Abuja.
The ‘wahala’ of getting a place of primary assignment until I pulled strings
with an ‘Alhaji’ I knew who had the right connections. I remember my friends
who were not so lucky; some of whom did not collect ‘allawie’ for five months
because they kept getting rejected all the time by ministries, government
agencies and private companies they were repeatedly posted to. Nobody tells you to save up as much as
possible during the NYSC service year because chances are that you are going to
be waiting at least a year before getting a job. Nobody counsels you on the
frustrations of sending out CVs and attending countless interviews without
being hired. No one is there to wipe the tears of trepidation and fear from
your eyes as you cry and wallow in self pity at the thought of your life
continuing like this. Your mother calls you to tell you she is praying for you,
your dad says to not let the frustration lead you into something stupid. Shame
doesn’t let you go home because you do not want to be the graduate who doesn’t
go out with the rest of the family in the morning and is stuck at home doing
menial jobs. So you are in limbo waiting for the chance to change your life;
sometimes that chance takes years, some people delve into a life of crime while
others work pitiable menial jobs to keep their head above water while wondering
how different their lives could have been if they had been working
‘satisfactory jobs’.
We always had dreams; as a child my parents’ ideology
of how they wanted my career path to be was always distorted. They wanted me to
study law and wear wigs and black coats like other lawyers did but they could
see that my passions lay elsewhere. So in August 2003 my dad let me register at
the Pepsi Football Academy, he helped me purchase a pair of puma soccer boots
and I began training with the academy. That is the definition of dreams coming
true. The urge to see a brand new day because you know that no matter what it
brings you are eager to learn and ready to work. That dream did not last but I
will always be grateful to my parents and to my uncle for believing enough in
me to finance my dream no matter how fleeting it was.
The difference between Nigeria and the rest of the
world is our glaring lack of organizational skills, infrastructure, corruption,
crumbling facilities, ineptitude and a large scale lackadaisical attitude to
work and vocation. I could have achieved my dreams if there was a facility that
allowed talented kids to train in sporting activities and go to school at the
same time but there was not.
Elijah my neighbor comes from Oyo State, when he
came to Lagos we used to tease him mercilessly because he could hardly speak
English. But he did not take it to heart, he was hungry to learn and soon
enough he started picking up words, reading books, studying the dictionary and
not long after he could read and write. He worked as an glass maker while in
secondary school so he could buy all his books, he was very impressive and such
a brilliant kid but he went to a public secondary school in Lagos that had no
structure in place where kids who were exceptional in academics could get
scholarships into the university. I could see the desire in his eyes, I prayed
silently for a miracle to happen but when noting did, he had to return to Oyo
state after a few months. It could easily have been the end of a dream, another
victim of a failed system that does not recognize those who do not have the
means to keep up with its grueling and inhuman pace. ‘I’ could easily have
taken Elijah’s dreams from him but he worked, tilled the land until he was able
to raise funds to go to a polytechnic. He would be an entrepreneur some day if
it is the Elijah I know. He taught me to believe that even when obstacles
stands in our way trying to crush dreams we struggle so hard to create, our
strength will persevere.
I have a colleague I met when I came to Abuja in
2006; he quit his old job then when he got admission into the university around
the same time as me so that he could concentrate on higher education which he believed
would help him get a better paying job. His dream was that by the time he was
done with the university he would get a good job and rise far above the level
he was leaving. Alas he finished his NYSC in the east of Nigeria and returned
to Abuja to search for a job and after one year he returned back to his old job
which had long since been usurped by another over qualified graduate. He
currently works as a cleaner but his hope hasn’t diminished. He sees this step
as bidding his time and he told me that he will continue to look until he finds
what he is looking for.
I knew of a girl when I was in the university, she
was such a dunce she couldn’t graduate even with a pass. Her father, a big wig
in politics came to school and oiled the palms of those in charge so she could
be allowed to graduate with the rest of us because he had been reserving a job
for her in one of the government agencies which she would take over when she
started NYSC.
A critical look at the situation of the Nigerian
youth will show that there are several underlying factors that must be taken
into consideration to understand why ‘I’ increasingly turns into the angel of
doom.
When we were kids, our parents formed our thinking
stereotypically; they wanted us to be professionals like lawyers, doctors,
engineers, nurses or any job that came with a glorified title. The belief was
that these types of professions brought honour, glory, respect, contentment,
wealth and recognition in the society. But society has evolved and technology
has ensured that job descriptions vary to the extent that demand is far out of
what Nigerian graduates are equipped for. The teaching system in the university
that does not produce ideological independent creative thinkers but academic
crammers who give it back to the lecturers during exams ‘verbatim’. Thus most
Nigerian graduates are not trained to think outside of the box, we do not know
how to be innovative, we only know what we are taught and the knowledge that
resides in us is not updated thus we are redundant in a competitive labour
market where employees want graduates with skills to work under little supervision,
team work, professional certificates and unique innovation and creativity that
can add to their productivity and quality. The fault can be traced back to the
government who spurn out graduates every year without jobs, no industry, no
SMEs, no support to private companies that have shown growth enough to employ
teeming passionate Nigerians. The system has failed.
‘I’ refers to that road block that stands in front
of you every step you take.
‘I’ is the obstacles to your dreams
‘I’ is the demon that ensures that your visions
never become a reality
‘I’ is the reason why frustration and anger gnaws at
your throat from your waking hour at dawn till the time you go to sleep at
night
‘I’ is that force of pessimism taunting you and
slapping your soft cheeks into the realization that you are no different from
the rest of your peers who remain unemployed.
‘I’ is the system of bureaucracy that ensures that
your creative ideas will never see the light of day.
‘I’ represents the fear in your heart that you will
die a frustrated death because your life remains miserable without contentment.
 |
| masses of Nigerian graduates trying to get the civil service employment forms |
We have to find ways to not let ‘I’ win. My friend
Arinze an engineer started his own boutique when jobs were hard to come by.
Start a business if you can because the money in your pocket is better than the
one you imagine.
Living in a country like Nigeria ensures that you
will always be afraid to dream because it will be tainted with doubts and a
subtle resignation to the fact that you might end up unsatisfied like the rest
of your peers. Be not mistaken that there are those who benefit from ‘I’, the
greedy rat-bastards who do not know the meaning of contentment while sleeping
with a bed made out of the fabric of greed.
We cannot let ‘I’ win, what else d we have in a
desolate world if we let ‘I’ take our dreams from us, if we shatter in our
youth before our lives begin. If we give in to a life of crime in the name of
survival, if we become like one of those blood thirsty, power driven, money
sucking demons who propagate that ‘I’ is here to stay. How can we expect to
live beyond forty if we let ‘I’ win?
‘I’will rip your dreams from your bones. Before you
think them it will be taken from you. The smile of hope on your face will turn
to tears of frustration; your brow will sweat from the scorching gaze of the
sun as you walk along the streets trying to find a place for your ideas,
circles will gather under your eyes as you think endlessly on ways to change
your fortunes. Your sleep will be uneasy as the worry lines etched on your face
from distress force you to turn endlessly in the night, the beauty of your
youth will be forgotten as you fight hard to survive the harsh reality that
dreams have no place in this country.
They will never win, we will fight hard, hold on to
our dreams, strive forward as we seek new paths to the future, smile in the
present because there will be enough time to worry about the future and when
our time comes, because trust me it will…. We will see to it that ‘I’ who tried
to take our dreams from our bones will be destroyed. After all the best stories
of success are the ones forged with paths of blood, tears and a face full of
worry.