THE MURKY AFRICAN JOB MARKET

THE MURKY AFRICAN JOB MARKET

THE MURKY AFRICAN JOB MARKET

The employment market in Africa has always been a bleak sphere of stunted growth for any struggling African, and all because the entire African matrix system is severely skewed, and hence can never be a level playing field, especially so for the ordinary civilians. This fun fact I know, because I lived it, by spending all my child-bearing years, perpetually on a job hunt, pacing back and forth on route eleven, tarmacking really hard, in the hope of landing on any available position, and for what? At that rate, I felt I needed; an ancestor pass, ritual offerings, a warlock’s ring, anointing oil from a prophet’s wand, and ties to a mob, in order for me to magically qualify for anything jobwise. Nonetheless, before I could even get the mystical job connect, I had to first face a rigid panel of interviewers, who had the organization's authority to bombard me with cringe worthy questions, that make up for television entertainment.

A case in point is a job opportunity, which I applied for, once upon a wrinkle in time, within my locality. Sadly, for me, I had to face a body of queriers, the kind who make you wish you were born into royalty, so as not to face the kind of public scrutiny subjected to the have nots. The first question to the grave interview was, "What was the occupation of your great grand-mother, on your father's side?", some overzealous cuss in the team of quizmasters dared to ask me, as if he was planning on granting my late Nana the job instead of me. The truth is that I never my great grandmother, on account that she had already passed on, long before I even was born. Moreover, I had never really thought to inquire about her life. Consequently, did my lack of knowledge of the career of my ancestor, disqualify me from working in that particular local company? Actually, my late Nana and I are worlds apart, for we are of different generations. Therefore, what was the point of this question?

Another callous examinant in the board poked at my nearly perfect resumé and posed yet another irate question, leaving me feeling more vexed than I already was. “It says here in your CV that you only have five years’ experience, yet we are looking for one who has forty years of experience. So, how do you figure?" Perhaps I have exaggerated this second question, still it is not that far-fetched, particularly so when you have been a job seeker as long as I have been under the African sun, because this type of question is designed to knock one off the competition, for the job spot. Anyway, did you get to thoroughly read the question at hand? Can someone please call on all the available mathematicians, because the math is not mathing. As a result, I was so perplexed by this line of questioning, that I had to pose one for the inquisitors that went this way, “I am sorry sir, but did you mean forty years of age or forty years of work experience? Because clearly none of you who sit before me is a day over fifty years, thus how am I expected to have forty years of work experience, when I am only forty years old? Even your company has been in operation for a little over ten years, hence I do not understand this line of questioning you people have.” Ah! These African panelists darn near killed me with their dramatic questions.

By now, you all should be aware that all the above questions were set to debar one, so that the hiring company can fulfil their quota, while they help find their relatives find lucrative job positions. But before I could take a breather, this council of interrogators pelted me with another archaic question, which read like this, “Who was the first local Chief of this Ward?" Again, what is with all these ancestral questions? Honestly, I did not understand why these interviewers loved to go back in time, instead of forging ahead to embrace the future. Although, if I did not have the answer to this next question, then it meant that my chances of securing that job opportunity at hand, were close to none. Having said that, unless I had documented information about the local Chief in question, then there is no way I would have known who he was, if he ever existed. Regardless, where would I find information about the local Chief from, aside from a series of dilapidated photographs stemming from the colonial days? Perhaps the Chief in question is related to the owners of the company, hence the interviewers' prior knowledge of who the Chief was. Hence, why ask such an irrelevant question to a millennial? 

The next obvious question thrown at me was, “You’ve listed para-gliding, kayaking, and bungee-jumping, as your hobbies. Can you explain what these activities are in general?", glared the curious panelist in askance, at my resumé. Even I was not ready for the set question, since it was not my intention to provide them with my internationally-crafted resumé, as opposed to my locally-configured resumé, that suited the current job position. Anyway, the short answer was that these white-painted hobbies were sort of in my bucket list of futuristic plans. Thus, what I meant to list as my hobbies were the usual; reading books, writing journals, and watching informative documentaries. Needless to say, I was put on task, to explain my mystic hobbies, and as soon I did, the whole panel looked at me with contempt, like Joseph the dreamer, who told his brothers of his big dreams, and they all mocked him in ignorance. Anyhow, I was not offended at all by their silent judgements of my white hobbies, even though I was perturbed by their clueless demeanours.

Needless to say, there were so many malformed questions thrown at me but the wildest one, by the last panelist was, "Why are you not married at your age?" I guess this question was the very one that broke the camel's back, and thereby destroyed my chances at securing the coveted job position. In a word, my diplomatic response to their invasive marital question was, “I am not married, because I am waiting on God’s divine timing.” I would have stood up to leave at that juncture, yet good manners, coupled with a few ethical values did not allow my pride to get the best of me. I know that you too reading this could be offended on my behalf, but in Africa, this is the norm, and the unwritten rule to which your level of growth and maturity is measured by your marital status. I guess these rejective panelists would have gladly overlooked the many faults which they considered me to have including, the strange hobbies I listed on my resumé for their perusal, as well as my blasé attitude, with regards to my ancestry but for some harsh reasons, they would not wish to overlook my singletude.

Perhaps, these team of panelists mistook me for a free-spirited hippie, or a recluse battling an existential crisis, yet I believe that too much education, exposure, and a thirst for more knowledge, was what set me on the journey of self-discovery. Nevertheless, I did not blame these set of Africans for their skewed depiction of me, because in their world, I was a conundrum but, in my world, I was just Ms. Betty Baijun. All in all, if you are wondering, I did not get the job. Apparently, I was overqualified for it, and therefore, they thought it wise to award the next best person, and most probably one who did not threaten their worldly position. Oh, well, I went back to tarmacking, and yes, I had better luck in the next job hunt.