I am writing from prison and no it’s not what you think. I went in on my own accord. I finished from the university and completed my mandatory NYSC service year, I found myself in a desperate situation. My parent’s house seemed smaller and I was constantly assaulted by curious stares each making demands on me. Being unemployed didn’t seem enough reason to be given some consideration but rather I was required to make contributions to the upkeep of the house.

And so I tied a rope around my neck and carried my CV in hand looking for a job. Cyber cafes and newspaper stands became my secret place. Sometimes I rolled up my sleeves and joined the debate on how the government had failed the youths. I reminded all those who cared to listen that I graduated with a very strong 2:1 but there were no jobs. I sharpened my oratory prowess by the frequent verbal battles that I won and lost at the newspaper stand. I became somebody, a person people valued his opinion, and it felt good to hear people refer to me as “Authority”

My popularity at the newspaper stands didn’t get me closer to getting a job or meeting up with the responsibilities at home. But, that was my secret place, the one place I was held in high esteem, I could speak at the top of my voice and nobody would remind me that I was a 29 year old jobless graduate living in his parent’s house.

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