SHATTERED ASPIRATIONS OF YOUTH IN AFRICA

Once I was six years old, making promises worth billions of dollars, to Mama and Papa. Like it was an easy task, I said, "Mum, I will buy three big cars for you and daddy one day, a private jet, and build a house with a swimming pool for you. I will give you lots of money. I will employ three drivers, and five house maids".

When I turned ten years, life was still rosy. I kept making promises. Promised to make a name for myself and my family. I told my mum, "one day, I will become a doctor and take you abroad". Even though, we were just struggling to survive, I was determined to make my family famous and respected.

Once I was twelve years, I was hit by a huge blow from failure. I thought of my struggling parents, how they starved to send me to secondary school, and now returning to them with a report that read: “Advised to withdraw". I felt a pang of pain as I dragged myself home, to present my report card filled with reds and tears, to my parents. I thought of the promises I made to my parents as a kid, and wept bitterly.

Again, at age sixteen, my dreams of becoming a writer, crumbled. I couldn't afford the fees to publish my works, neither did I have a means of working online to get money. I couldn't proceed to the university to pursue my dreams of becoming a doctor, due to lack of funds. My father, a retired teacher, wasn't paid his pension and my family suffered the consequences.

Once I was seventeen years, I became a victim of unfortunate circumstances. While struggling for my daily meals, deep into the night, I stumbled upon a group of guys, mercilessly beating up a defenseless teenage guy of my age. He was shot on the spot and I was discovered by them. I received the beatings of my life, then was threatened to join them in their fraudulent ways.

I thought of my parents, and the promises I made to them and how proud they will be if I eventually fulfilled them. I looked at the guys one more time and their huge cars, then made up my mind to join them. At least, I will stop struggling for my daily meals now.

Once I was nineteen years old, I made my first One hundred million naira. It was a dream come true. I can finally give my parents lots of money, buy a mansion and cars for them. Only if, they were still alive to witness my success. In my quest for riches to cater for my family, I took a wrong step.

When I was eighteen, my guys told me of a way to get rich quick and I didn't disagree. I was taken to a place, where I only have to stab an empty Calabash and I will be rich. So easy, I thought, I stabbed the Calabash and indeed after three days, I made five million naira from my fraudulent work. Barely a week after, my father died, mysteriously.

Again, I stabbed the empty Calabash, and made One hundred million naira. My dear Mother, was eaten up by worms after a week, also.

Unknown to me, I unintentionally used my parents for ritual while trying to care for them. Now, I’m all alone, sad and rich in regrets.

Once I was Twenty years old, I lost my bearings. Lost my sanity, my home and peace. The streets became my home, where I roam naked and eat from dirt.