So You Didn't Become a Lawyer, Doctor, or an Accountant — What Now?
- Augusta Bangura
- 2 hours ago
- 3 min read
By: Augusta Osmatu Bangura
I saw something today. Something we all see every day but never really pay attention to. But today was different. I looked closely, and I saw it. I felt it — and I was scared. Scared that one day, I might be one of them. Or that someone I know might be.
Do you want to know what I saw? Then try to keep up with me.

Sierra Leone’s projected youth unemployment rate of 3.6% may seem small on paper, but it represents thousands of young people with nothing to look forward to but a future of wasted potential.
I've read articles and spoken to many people about youth unemployment. The blame varies — nepotism, a broken education system, or a structure designed to favor the rich. But I’m not here to talk about why we’re unemployed. You probably already have your theories. So what I want to show you is what it looks like.
Today in town, I saw young men with strong, able bodies slouched on wooden benches outside “quick fix” spots where football aired and loud music blasted. Some stretched across cracked market stalls, sleeping under the sun. Others crowded outside political party offices, wrapped in kush smoke and the stench of sweat, joints passing between fingers trying to forget. Then, one of them picked up a guitar. His fingers danced across the strings like he was born to do it. In another life, Mohamed of Mano Dasse could’ve been a successful musician. But here, he plays to be ignored.

He and his friends are the kind of youth people walk past — not because they’re invisible, but because it’s easier to pretend they are.
And yet, despite everything, I saw something else in their eyes — hope. That quiet kind that says, “One day, I’ll make it.” But hope alone won’t turn dreams into reality. Especially not when those dreams were built on the belief that education was the key — only to find that the lock has changed. Parents gave everything for their children’s education, like an investment they hoped would pay off. But in many cases, it didn’t. And while some blame the youth, I’ve learned the system was never designed for people like us.
Most graduates are fixated on white-collar jobs — positions of which are often limited. Meanwhile, opportunities to build something new go unnoticed. Sure, they didn’t go to university just to become entrepreneurs, but sometimes survival demands adaptability.
Then there are those who break the pattern, willing to pick the lock and show that, while times may be hard, hope can still come to life.

“Ten years ago, at 17, I took the IGCSE. My results weren’t great, and I couldn’t afford a resit, so I started working,” says 27-year-old Emily Fanday, now CEO of The Community, a peer-to-peer lending platform supporting small businesses. “I began as a volunteer at Life by Design and later at IDT Labs. I was just trying to learn.”
With time and experience, Emily started her own company. Working from a small room with an old desktop, she teamed up with other job-seeking youths. Their first venture — an online marketing business — didn’t take off,

but that didn’t stop her. Trial after trial led her to the right path. “When you have an idea, you start immediately,” she says — and that mindset birthed The Community.
Commenting on the youth mindset, she adds, “We don’t want to start small. We want big jobs. Some say, ‘I won’t work for Le1,000’ — but during that time, you’re at home doing nothing. You could be gaining experience.” Emily didn’t let a lack of capital or failure stop her. She turned them into fuel.
So ask yourself: Where would you be if you had started a trade, learnt a skill, made yourself versatile and seen, three, four, or five years ago instead of staying in a box of hope with no holes, waiting for a broken system that was never created for you to be fixed? It’s not too late. Start now — because you’re not really stuck unless you choose to be.
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