The Journey of Passions
Growing up in the middle belt region (Jos, Plateau) of Nigeria, I had the assumption that life was sweet and everyone was comfortable and happy.
One day, my mother took us to the village for the first time I was amazed at what I saw; I judged the people by their level of poverty and hoped to help them when I was older.
A few years later, at the age of 11 my father died I was really sad but I refused to accept his death and did not cry. He travelled a lot while we were growing up so I presumed he will be back one day and I kept waiting for his call.
A couple of months later, I began to notice sadness in my mother’s eyes but she never complained. My father had stopped my mother from working when I was about four years old; this made life difficult for her in his absence in addition to the horrible treatment she went through with her in-laws. Despite all the problems faced, she ensured we got the best education. I later told my self that I would work hard and help orphans and widows fight for their rights.
In the process of furthering my education, I met a number of people who came from villages and had a very poor educational background, which constantly put them at the bottom of the class. This however motivated me to go into education so that I could do something and create change in the rural areas.
I kept improving my self towards my goals, by getting involved in non-profit ventures to acquire the skills required but I still lacked the skills. I later got admission to for a Masters in Development studies, which I found quite interesting and challenging and helped me, understand the politics behind a number of the global issues.
I would love to change the world, but over the years, I have been in schools and have seen girls getting pregnant and being expelled from the school while the father of the baby remains anonymous. During my field research, I went to the village in Nigeria; I met a girl of 15 who assisted me with translation. She told me she wanted to be an accountant and I was quite impressed and decided to keep in touch. One year down the line she is pregnant, with the father, refusing to take responsibility because she is not his type. This story is one of many heart-breaking stories of young girls who have gotten their future stolen not just from the men but also from the society, which I wish the world to hear.
A few months after my Masters, a friend of mine Christy whom I have expressed my passions sent me a link voices of the future and said; “You might be interested”. I read through it, felt so refreshed and I have been thankful for the day I met her because I feel a sense of belonging.