The Observer
After school, everyone expected me to find something to do to support home and, if possible, settle down. I thought I had gone far and wide in pursuit of that mandate placed on me as a man. Despite my best efforts, nothing seemed to work out. I felt dejected and began to lose hope in life.
At some point, I even thought a curse had been placed on me, or perhaps I had offended God. I shared my frustration with others, but while some listened, many would later gossip that I was lazy and unwilling to get my hands dirty. It was embarrassing because, deep down, I knew I had traveled across Ghana, submitting countless applications and CVs, all to no avail.
I reached out to everyone I knew who could help, even going so far as to apply for a fraudulent scheme. However, after assessing me, they rejected me, sensing I wasn’t cut out for such grievous acts. It was then I considered pressing the button on a gangster life, thinking it might at least give me something to keep me going.
Geared towards the effect of galamsey
