If you are young, educated and currently unemployed in Ghana, no matter the depths of despair to which you have sunk - because you don't know anyone important enough in Ghanaian society to recommend you to someone who can give you a meaningful job on which you can build a career - do not give up. Ever.
There really is light at end of the very dark tunnel you are temporarily in today. If in addition to being unemployed you have also become homeless and living as a street person too, always remember that tomorrow could see you experiencing a life-changing event that suddenly transforms your future prospects in positive fashion. Yes.
'The Big Issue Ghana' street news magazine has been set up to offer despairing unemployed Ghanaians the opportunity to become micro-entrepreneurs - as partner-vendors: buying our independent alternative to Ghana's mostly-compromised mainstream media at a discount and selling it on for a 100 percent mark up.
Our multimedia social enterprise is replicating the business model of the UK's 'The Big Issue' street news magazine in Ghana to empower unemployed people to bootstrap their way out of the poverty-trap through their daily sales of 'The Big Issue Ghana' - which intends to partner Corporate Ghana to make this possible through their advertising spending in the pages of an extremely good read that will speak truth to power and be a force for good in Ghanaian society.
As an inspiration to those unemployed young Ghanaians currently despairing at ever finding a way out of their situation, today, we have culled a powerful Huffington Post piece written by a courageous young lady, Nika C. Beamon, which we hope will resonate with them. They are not alone in feeling despair. And there really nearly always is a way out from the depths of despair - such as selling 'The Big Issue Ghana'.
Please read on:
"THE BLOG 05/20/2016 01:50 pm ET Updated Dec 06, 2017
Rising From the Depths of Despair
By Nika C. Beamon
Quite frequently, I’m asked how I always manage to have a smile on my face despite all my medical problems. The truth is I don’t but oh how I wish that were true.
I hide the pain, discomfort, fear and anxiety I have about living with an autoimmune disease until I am alone in my home. I console myself because, deep down, I know no one can change the fact that there is no cure for what I have and I will be ill over and over again.
When I sink into the depths of despair I see nothing but a past filled with agony, dread, and wasted promise. The depression about my helplessness somehow gives me amnesia about all my accomplishments, all the joy in my world.
I wail in my room trying to expel my anger and rage for being trapped in a frail body. I sit up, alone in the darkness, night after night waiting for morning. I toss and turn, haunted by choices or lack of them, like how far can I move away from a hospital? What can I wear that will hide my ice packs or my surgical scars? When no real answers come, I drop to my knees and pray. I don’t ask to be healed but for the power to endure.
In the throes of my struggle to release myself from my repetitive hell, I try to convince myself there are brighter days ahead. I repeat mantras to myself: “don’t give up,” “You have a strong mind and that’s greater than a weak body,” “You are greater than your condition,” “You are tough and independent so you never give in;” and “You have too much left to do to let this beat you.” Eventually, I get sick of my own self-pity and my thoughts shift to finding a way how I can thrive even when my body does not. Only then am I able to clear my mind and I sleep; that is my seed of hope for the next day.
I covet that seed and I pray every night before I sleep that it will grow. And, it does slowly, allowing each day to be easier than the one before. I go from sitting on the toilet to style my chair and brush my teeth to standing while I do it all.
Finally, when I can walk with my chin up, tears dried, regrets buried, pain muffled, fear repressed, and body stitched together as best as I and my doctors can; I resume my “I’m just like everyone else” routine. I begin again, knowing that any time; I could be in the depths of despair again but I can and will rise above it, slowly.
2016-05-20-1463763255-7270021-SLEEPINGBLOGPHOTOr.jpg
Follow Nika C. Beamon on Twitter: www.twitter.com/NikaBeamon
Nika C. Beamon
Nika C. Beamon is a journalist in NY City. She is the author of the memoir Misdiagnosed: The Search for Dr. House and three other books.
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