The Observer
I never believed I was pressure-proof—until the time I left my homeland in search of greener pastures and life, without warning, slapped me in the face. That’s when I realized how difficult it truly is to scrape by in a foreign land. In that fire of tribulation, I grew to deeply respect all those out there hustling, renouncing comfort to create a more comfortable life for their families back home.
Life abroad was tough, merciless. There were moments I muttered, enough is enough. The need for home became deafening. But then I remembered those who believed in me—those whose unwavering support fortified my courage. I could not let them down. I would not.
I stared death in the face, but the resilience I had built wouldn’t let me crack. Illness tried to attack me several times, but something ancestral—African resilience that was within me—built a firewall that no challenge could overcome. I began to love the man I was becoming. The journey outside my comfort zone revealed to me the quiet strength of endurance and the beauty of transformation through suffering.
It started with a visit from a friend. He returned home for the holidays and shared with us stories of boundless opportunities abroad. I was at that time a young man with lofty ambitions, having just passed my professional examinations to join the Accounting fraternity. I thought that success would be the next automatic step after such a feat—but things took a different turn.
I took on lowly jobs, just to get by with body and soul intact. So when the chance to work overseas presented itself, thanks to my friend, I did not hesitate—I took it with both hands and, if possible, both feet. I did not ask many questions. I just knew I needed to work—real money—to be able to care for those whom I cared about.
I got my papers, borrowed money to cover agency fees, and booked a flight. All that happened very quickly. I signed a renewable five-year contract without knowing the type of work that awaited me. I subsequently discovered I’d joined a cleaning agency—laundry and ironing clothes eight hours daily, with the possibility of doing extra hours if I wanted to earn more.
I never looked back. I told myself, Fifteen hours? I can do it. And I did. I battled exhaustion. There were days when my hands trembled and my legs buckled under the strain of fatigue. But the vision of those who were relying on me—and the loans that I needed to repay—kept me moving.
I missed meals in order to save more. I slept in the office to avoid paying rent and transportation costs. Sometimes the pain was too great to handle. But I reassured myself with one thing: I am building something greater than myself.
Since my contract was about to end, I looked at my account balance and smiled—it was enough. My debts were paid. I had what I needed to return home and plant the seeds of a dream. Agro-business called: livestock, poultry, fish. I was ready.
Back home, the same people who misjudged my silence and frugality finally saw the harvest. My business boomed and soon became a household name, supplying food to local and international markets.
But I never forgot where I came from.
In fulfillment of my vow to return the favors, my company began offering scholarships to needy students and investing in school facilities and road networks to help develop the community. I had a vow to fulfill:
Before meeting my ancestors, I would like to be the reason for someone getting an opportunity to make the world a better place.
Beautiful
Good work done