A typical day in the life of every Ghanaian is full of hope, wishes and dreams. The hope of a good tomorrow, wishes for better days and dreams for a peaceful life.
There is more if you belong to the youthful class. It is either you’re employed, semi-employed or unemployed.
Those who are employed wish they were more useful. They would’ve appreciated more to be of a better value to their family, the general society even. But as is usual, wishes and aspirations remain.
The semi-employed are those who have become the C.E.Os of the newfound world. Buying and selling, advertising products they do not believe in and in some cases, being the “boy boy” of a “big man” just to get “nokofio”, or “chochos” as my friends in Abosai Okai will call it. It is a dream to one day wake up to a consistent if not permanent, source of income.
Then the class I am afraid of; the unemployed. Those who wake up to nothing, and sleep to nothing. They roam from one internet site to the other, applying to all jobs they can lay their eyes upon. I am not afraid of this class because of the danger they pose to me, at least not yet. I am afraid of them because of what society might turn them into. Society here refers even to hunger. Frustrations and emotional traumas fall under “society” if we are to contextually define it.
This class is opened and closed; opened to both the educated, semi-educated and the illiterate. It is closed to those with the proper connections and in some cases, and with some females, those with the proper biological composure- an appeasing body perhaps. The only gate opened to this class, it appears, is the flood of betting companies promising an illusion of pocket tickling offers with next to no investment. The list is endless.
The country is peaceful yet violent. It is rich, yet poor to my people. Depending on which “platform” you speak from, the country may be static, stagnant or progressing or retrogressing even. Of course, depending on the hand that feeds you, or with what you are fed, the country may be a paradise, or traumatized.
Everything seems harsh, yet the youths swallow them whole. No experience, yet less choice not to. Everything has been violent and the tears of the youth, loud or quiet, begging the leadership of the land to save their desperations seems to be taking a rather long time to echo into the ears of the game-changers. And where the echo enters the ears, it usually receives less attention because it lacks the melodic acumen to provide the proper pitch worthy of the attention of the ears bearers.
The battle of the youth is enormous that a messiah might not be ready in time to rescue. And the torment exacerbates unabatedly. Those who are unable to marry are left depressed by the constant flashy weddings they see on a weekly basis. Unfortunately, they may desire to but cannot afford a tenth of what they see. They feel useless but cannot afford not to.
Things are expensive, expensive such that they weigh heavily on the meaningless things that lie within the scope of affordability of the poor. Fuel prices drag everything along. It tickles the prices of rice, moves the prices of gari and in some cases, balloons the prices of maize. A ball of kenkey and fish remains a dream. A worthy combination climbing itself into the porch of the worthy few.
The employed youth cannot carry the burden it comes with. Hungry friends are watching, desperate family members are listening whilst the school fees of their littles ones hover around their happiness. No one is satisfied, at least not fully. An attempt to satisfy the extended family may lead to the upsurge of the wrath of the nuclear family. Ignoring friends comes with its associated accusations of betrayals.
The youth wail and hail, but only so they can get nokofio. The solution lies in the chest of the game changers and game chargers. Those with legitimacy to charge the game to effect change are the only ones we look for. The hope is unanimous that one day, being unemployed will not remain the rule, and being employed, the exception. The desire is unanimous, that hope comes in time for the rescue of the declining faith of the youth. The passion is alive that soon, and hopefully, a messiah may arise or awaken to carry the burdens of the broken youth.
Columnist: Godfred Adjabeng