Girls As Breadwinners

The innocence in those eyes MUST never be traded for anything 

Look around Monrovia today [as well as other urban or even rural settings in Liberia] and tell me who you see hustling in the streets day-in and day-out. It is the children, predominantly girls, who are dispatched in the streets and other markets places every morning to fend for their parents. By sunset, they are expected to be home with some cash to ensure that there is food on the table the next day. At such tender ages (5 to 10) they are already practically being used as income-earners or breadwinners when they are supposed to be in school to prepare themselves for a bright tomorrow (the future). The interesting thing is that they blindly accept that responsibility without knowledge of their rights. 

Ask a Liberian mother or father why must it be the son or daughter who has to roam the streets selling ice water, and she/he will remorselessly respond like this: “Oh, I alone can’t do everything. The child needs to play his part, too.” Some parents will even tell this: “The boy [or girl] needs to help, too. After all, I gave birth to him [or her] and he [or she] did not and can never pay me enough for doing so. The only thing he [or she] can do is serve me and serve me better.” 

In the process, some of these girls can't help but sell themselves, along with their wares, in the name of saving the family from going hungry. Check out downtown Monrovia, especially Lynch, Carey, Mechlin and Water Streets and see how these areas are inundated with children selling all kinds of wares.

I, too, had my share of the breadwinner role. I did street vending for my family of 12, back in the early 90s.

We lived in a small town located in western Cote d'Ivoire called Blolequin -- a couple of hours drive from Cote d'Ivoire's border with Liberia, through Toulepleu (on the Ivorian side) and Toe Town (in Grand Gedeh, Liberia). My family had been residing in Zwedru, Grand Gedeh, southeastern Liberia, prior to the outbreak of the Liberian civil war. As a result of the war, we fled to Cote d'Ivoire and settled in Blolequin as refugees. 

I was 8 years old by then and each day I was sent out with a huge bowl of deep fired fish balls, nicely decorated with vegetable stew. I would begin my journey by visiting the various homes in our neighborhood before heading to the various video clubs and ending up in the market. I would make more than three rounds daily, making enough money to feed those 12 mouths. 

The first round would be early in the morning and by 10 a.m., I am back home for a refill. The fish balls used to be sumptuously made by my mom and so I had less difficulty finding customers. In  fact, I had pretty much a niche clientele that was very faithful to me. By 2 p.m., the second round is finished and my bowl is again refilled for the final round which would be done by 4:30 p.m. My mom, stepfather, siblings and other extended family members were all dependent on me for food.

(l-r) My mom, Teyah, and me; she made me strong and determined 

My mom at the time was penniless and so was my stepfather (deceased). My mom had earlier tried doing some sort of petty trading but that had a very short lifespan. My paternal aunt (deceased) sold snuff and kola nuts in tiny quantities and income generated from that was only enough to buy kerosene for the few lanterns in the house.

But just when the fish ball business started booming, we saw new comers emerging on the scene. Almost every neighbor wanted her daughter sold fish balls. In response, my mom left that business with them and turned a fresh page for us: the sale of parched peanuts (salted), powdered milk, popcorn and milk candies. 

Again, I soon found a brand new niche clientele, that felt my new "rock your jaw" or "make your mouth sweet" business (as we call these kinds of petty trading in Liberia) existed just for them. They were glued to it. They were  loyal and actually felt a sense of ownership. They took very good care of what they perceived as theirs. These people refused to buy from anyone else except from me. They would wait for me to show up with my different jars of milk candies, powdered milk mixed gently with white or brown sugar, deliciously parched peanuts and popcorn. 

Fulfilling girls' right to education is an obligation

In a nutshell, I played that breadwinner role for a little over a year before stepping foot in a classroom for the very first time in 1993, at age 9. By then, my mom was skillful in saving some money --- everything did not end up in the pot --- with which she kicked off her business at fresh. And this time, it worked! 

THE FRUITS:

What my role as a breadwinner taught me was that one day I would become the emblem of hope for several households and as such, I needed to stand firm and be that solid rock on which my kinsmen/women could lean. It groomed me into becoming an independent woman and challenged me to defeat failure at all levels, by always aspiring for excellence in life. It helped me picture the challenges ahead of me (at that tender age) but also, mentally prepared me for them. 

Now, I am empowered to conquer every trial that comes my way as I navigate my way to higher heights in life. I am also empowered to conquer my present and rule over my future as a woman. I owe all these to my mom, Fanta Kone (Teyah), who made me the strong, fearless, determined woman I am today. 

But this beautiful ending of my experience as a young breadwinner could only be a drop in the bucket. Not many girls would end up this way. Thousands of girls as breadwinners end up with a messed up life: little or no access to education, low self-esteem and self-confidence, and vulnerable. This is why I think someone somewhere needs to act now because our girls deserve a better future, not a broken one. Remember, fulfilling girls' right to education is an obligation.