I am a wanderer at heart. I’ve been to California, America, South Carolina, Kenya, South Africa, Germany, Pakistani, Iraqi, Iran, Dubai, Zimbabwe, Australia, Switzerland, Egypt, Sweden, Austria, India etc. I could go on and on but time won’t let me. I have travelled far and wide through your very own eyes, through the pictures you post on the internet. I have learnt of places so beautiful through your literary skill.
Dare I mention that I have felt different emotions ranging from anger, angst, joy, pain of all the people I have come across on the blogosphere. A bond is what I share with you all. I understand your loneliness and small joys and it has been a great experience for me.
Recently, I left the teaching job for a secretary job in the company. It has got less stress and better pay than what I earned as teacher.
I really should tell you about being a teacher in Nigeria. I had a perfect picture of what my life would turn out to be when I fell in love with the teaching profession. At age 17, I made up my mind to be a teacher, my writing skills were clawing its way out and the picture I had of teaching was that of bliss. I would work from 7.30 am to 2pm or at most 3pm and then I have the rest of the blessed day to write, read and attend to other personal chores or household chore, in fact it is the perfect job when I become a mother. I would be able to care for my family and never neglect them.
During service – Yinka and I
The reverse is the case when I became a certified teacher. I got back to Lagos after NYSC- Service to my country. I got the teaching job. We closed from work 3.30 pm and due to other things I had to attend to after school hours at work, I got home 4.00pm, sometimes the principal would send me on errands and I get home as late as 6pm or 7pm as the case maybe. Phew! I am not married yet and I am undergoing stress this much. I didn’t know that in addition to the work load the management would be so uncaring. They paid salary 5th of the next month if I get lucky. If not, the last month salary is paid, two weeks into the new week.
The whole situation was affecting me mentally. I was screaming in my head. I was angry at the world. I remember chatting with a few friends on whatsapp and I told some off and it just wasn’t me. I had to apologize the next day. I was deteriorating in mind and body. I was emaciating. I was already getting symptoms of fever, stomach ache, body weakness. In spite of it all, I still went to work. I knew the school needed me I was putting my life in the line for an institution that did not care about me.
I finally resigned. After resigning, I had to go to the hospital, I got myself checked and boy, it was a close shave. I would have been declared an ulcer patient among other things that were diagnosed.
I stayed at home, taking care of myself for three months. I got back into the labour market for another job. A teaching job preferably. I got another teaching job. Poor salary still. Just a change of name and faces. The story was the same. I did not slack at teaching. I just kept suffering and wondering when my life will become what I had always wished it will be.
I worked in this new school for two months and a better job opens. I work as a secretary in a company. It is not all sunshine too but it is a lot better. Lesser stress, better pay. I am beginning to create time for writing during my free periods here. Life is not yet perfect. I have so many grounds to cover, but I am smiling because with God on my side I can achieve those dreams and more.
It is a long journey. A short journey, maybe. I just want to leave my footprints on the sand of time. I want to be relevant to my world. It is my reason for living. I need to touch lives. It is a deep desire welling deep inside of me. I may not understand why I have to go through some emotional trauma, health issues, shelter issues, financial issues, and every other kind of issues that is hard to classify. I know that I have to keep on keeping. I can’t let the enemy win this battle. This is my life. This is my story. I will take each day as it comes. I won’t give up on myself. I won’t give up on God.
© Deborah Glover, 2016
Until next time,