I’m twenty-eight years old and unemployed. I know that already sounds like the start of a sad story, but please don’t pity me yet. I’ve been home since I finished the university, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned in all these years, it’s how to pretend that everything is fine when it’s not.

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Every morning, my mother wakes me up with, “Kweku, when will you start working so I can rest?” I smile and tell her, “Soon.” I’ve been saying “soon” for three years now.

I’ve done all sorts of jobs just to survive. I’ve been an Uber driver using someone’s car, a mobile money attendant for two months, until the owner accused me of stealing GH₵172. I’ve also been a social media manager for a small shop that never sold anything.

Most of my friends are doing well. They’re working in banks, tech companies, and even government offices. Some of them drive cars with names I can’t even pronounce well. And the same people I used to buy waakye with at the roadside now wear suits and talk about “real estate” and “dividends.” When I meet them, they say, “Chale, don’t worry. Your time go come.” I nod and laugh, but deep down, I ask myself, “when?”

My family doesn’t make things easier. When my younger sister got her first job, she started calling me “Senior Man,” not out of respect, but sarcasm. My uncle told me last Christmas that I’m “the example of what the youth should not become.” Imagine sitting at a family gathering and hearing that while eating jollof rice. I nearly choked.

My girlfriend of two years left me for my own friend. The day she told me, she said, “You’re a good person, but I need to think about my future.” I told myself I don’t blame her for leaving me, because truth be told, I’m also trying to leave myself.

Right now, I’m helping another friend build a business. He says it’s a “startup.” That word gives it some respect, but honestly, it’s just the two of us in a tiny container shop with one old laptop and a fan that doesn’t rotate. I manage the social media, do the marketing, run errands, and sometimes cook for us when there’s money for food. He says the business hasn’t started making money yet, so he can’t pay me. I tell myself I’m “gaining experience,” but my bank account disagrees.

Sometimes, I walk to the roadside and watch people driving to work in the morning. The trotro mate shouting “Circle! Circle!” sounds more confident about life than I am.

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But you know what? I haven’t given up. Not yet. Maybe I’m just on my detour. Life is not a race even though, right now, I feel like I’m running barefoot while everyone else is driving a Benz.

I need some motivation right now. If you’ve ever been in my situation, that space between hope and frustration, I want to know how you made it out. How did you keep your mind straight when everything around you screamed “failure”?

Maybe I’ll learn from your experience and not give up. Bro, e hard oooo!

—Kweku

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