Six years without a job

“They say: when life is tough, it’s the tough ones who survive. I’m trying. But I can’t help thinking: why did my life turn out like this? I haven’t always been good, good, good. But even if I had to pay my dues, I’ve certainly paid them by now. It’s been six years. Six years without a job. I used to believe things would improve. The fact of the matter is, they are getting worse. I’ve moved in with an uncle. He has given me a room in his house. But I’m not free there. I can’t speak my mind. You know how it is in Africa: you must respect your elders. When his son comes home, he takes the room, and I sleep on the sofa. I’m in my thirties. It used to be me who took care of people. Luckily both my parents are dead. If you saw me – I’m no longer wearing fashionable clothes. I can’t afford them. I look like a villager now.



"Six years without a job. The boredom! I don't even have a TV anymore. Listening to music on my mobile phone is my only distraction. Sometimes I go to church, that helps a little. When it gets dark, all kinds of thoughts enter my head. These thoughts eat me up. Last month I was close to killing myself. I sat on my mattress thinking about my life, and I decided to commit suicide. I'd just had enough. Then my phone rang -- a friend invited me to a birthday party. I probably wouldn't be alive today if he hadn’t rung. This year it was such a struggle to buy school books for my daughters. They are living with their mother, who is also unemployed. What depresses me most is the fact that I can’t map out a future for my daughters. I want them to go to university, but I can’t afford to think about it. It’s impossible to think long-term. I barely have enough money to eat. Plantain bananas are twice as expensive as before. You order a loaf of foutou [a doughy ball of mashed plantains], that’s all you eat that day.

"Last time I went to the city I ran into two girls I used to be friends with. They asked me where I live these days. I didn’t tell them the truth. ‘I live in Cocody,’ I said. They said: ‘Oh really, you don’t look like you do.’ I said: ‘Well, I don’t have time for fashion.’ I took my phone and pretended someone was calling me. ‘Sorry, I have to answer a call,’ I said, and walked away. I didn’t want to face their questions.”