Ahmad Adedimeji Amobi: We Do Not Job Shame

You were standing on the verandah as everything unravelled before you. It was Brother Biodun, he was packing out of the house. His mother dragged her feet behind him as he carried bags and stuff out. He was saying, “I can’t do this anymore,” tears slowly falling down his cheeks. His mother later sat on the bench, watching helplessly as her child fumbled in and out of the passage, taking things out.

In this house, you witnessed moments in Brother Biodun’s life: when he graduated from secondary school; when he gained admission into the university; when he graduated from the university and the days he came home from a place far in northern Nigeria where he was doing NYSC. Then, everyone used to call him Uncle Corper, his mother grinning from ear to ear as everyone rushed to hug Brother Biodun. The house felt alive and special.

He’d turn when he saw you, “So what class are you now?” And you’d respond with whatever class you were in. As you witnessed some moments in Brother Biodun’s life, he did the same. Like when you entered JSS 1 and he said, “Ah, you’re a big boy now o.” Or when you asked him to give you some books to read when you were in SS 2 and preparing to write your WASSCE. He told you, “Make sure you read well well o. So that you can become a corper like me.”

Now, you have finished secondary school and waiting to be admitted into a university but the vitality and joy that came out of Brother Biodun’s room had died. Every time he returned from a journey, the atmosphere became tense, the air more stifling and he sometimes walked silently to avoid attracting people’s attention.

As he prepared to leave, some neighbours gathered around pleading with him to stay But he knew these neighbours were simply being two-faced. Brother Biodun had heard them whisper behind walls: “Shebi he’s done with NYSC, what is he still doing in his mother’s house?” “When will he have a job sef?” “Wait o, is this Brother Biodun not 25 or so? When will he marry?” For a question like this, another neighbour would respond, “Is it someone that doesn’t have a job that will marry?”

These words got to him and he decided to leave and find his fortune elsewhere. He was tired of staying with his mother.

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I was on Twitter recently when a tweet from @zzenob found its way to my TL. He said, “N*ggas be 21 and working fast food jobs,” to which someone else replied, “We don’t job shame.”

We live in a world where people try to shame others for not living the kind of life they expect them to live. You’re jobless? They laugh. You’re job-hunting? They scoff. You’re a waiter? Ah, wahala! The world only wants to respect you when they see you all successful (success being measured by material things) – a great job, a good car, a fine house. But if there’s something the global economic situation is teaching us, it is that the world doesn’t really work like that.

It’s important that we recognise that people make choices based on their individual circumstances, available options, sense of fulfilment or even accomplishment of dreams. Whichever the reason is, it is valid. Each individual’s life is shaped by a unique combination of factors, and it’s not fair to compare people or expect them to be a certain way at a certain age. And it is down bad to shame them for doing an honest job.

Whatever job people are doing right now – waiting, cooking, cleaning, plumbing, etc –  should never be a thing of shame. Not everyone will earn 6 figures at age 21, and that’s okay. People should not be humiliated for being hardworking or for making a living for themselves. Neither should people be shamed for their inability to find jobs. In fact, it is okay if living is your biggest win sometimes.

I will leave you with this and a timeless quote from Ayi Kwei Armah: “Those who are blessed with the soaring swiftness of an eagle and have flown before, let them go. I will travel slowly and I, too, will arrive.”

 

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