If education was truly the equalizer we were promised, my life would look very different today.
I hold four degrees and two diplomas. My certificates fill a whole box under my bed, neatly wrapped, protected from dust and rain like precious relics.
Yet every morning, I wake up before sunrise, head to the forest, and burn charcoal to survive. That is how I feed myself. That is how I live.
In my village, I am known as “the educated one.” People greet me with respect, but behind my back, I know the whispers.
In my village, I am known as “the educated one.” People greet me with respect, but behind my back, I know the whispers.
“How can someone who studied that much still be doing this?” Even children look at me with confusion. Education was supposed to lift me out of poverty, not trap me in a more painful form of it.
What breaks me the most is watching my agemates. Men I sat with in Class Eight, some who dropped out before finishing primary school, now return to the village in Range Rovers.
What breaks me the most is watching my agemates. Men I sat with in Class Eight, some who dropped out before finishing primary school, now return to the village in Range Rovers.
They own big mansions, fenced compounds, and businesses in town. When they visit, people gather around them with admiration. When I pass by covered in charcoal dust, people lower their voices.
I did everything right — or so I thought. I listened to teachers. I worked hard. I believed patience would be rewarded.
I did everything right — or so I thought. I listened to teachers. I worked hard. I believed patience would be rewarded.
I rejected shortcuts because I believed education was the safest path. While others took risks, tried business, or chased opportunities early, I stayed in school year after year, chasing papers.
After graduation came reality.
Applications went unanswered. Interviews never came. Connections mattered more than qualifications. Experience was demanded, yet no one wanted to give a chance. Slowly, savings ran out.
After graduation came reality.
Applications went unanswered. Interviews never came. Connections mattered more than qualifications. Experience was demanded, yet no one wanted to give a chance. Slowly, savings ran out.
Pride was swallowed. Survival took over. Charcoal burning became the last option, not because I loved it, but because hunger does not respect degrees. Continue reading......................
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