Chapter 1 – Born with Nothing but Hope
The village always woke up before the sun. Roosters crowed, women fetched water, and men prepared to work the fields. But for Tendai, mornings began with a different kind of worry—the question of whether he would be allowed to attend school that week.
His parents, simple and hardworking, barely earned enough to put sadza and vegetables on the table. School fees were a luxury, not a right. Many times, Tendai sat at home for weeks because his parents could not raise the money. He would watch other children, in their faded uniforms, walking past their house with books under their arms, and his heart would ache with envy.
Yet, whenever he got the chance to attend, he made every day count. He borrowed old books, wrote on scraps of paper, and studied late into the night by the dim light of a paraffin lamp. Teachers admired his determination, but determination did not pay fees. Sometimes he worked after school—fetching firewood for neighbors or helping in small gardens—to contribute a few coins so he could return to class.
His dream was simple but powerful: education was his only ticket out of poverty.
After years of sacrifice, he did it. He walked across the graduation stage with tears in his eyes, not because of pride, but because he remembered the nights he had almost given up. His parents stood among the crowd, their faces shining with hope that their son's life would be different.
But finishing school was only the first battle.
The economy was collapsing. Jobs were disappearing as government policies and mismanagement drove businesses to close. Factories that once employed thousands now stood silent, their rusty gates locked. Each day, Tendai joined long queues of job seekers, handing in his CV at offices that never called back. Months turned into years, and frustration grew like a shadow over his dreams.
People whispered that education no longer guaranteed success. Many of his classmates had given up, turning to street vending or migrating to neighboring countries. But Tendai refused to let his hope die. Though the country seemed to be falling apart, he believed there had to be a way—somewhere, somehow, his hard work would open a door.
And so, every night, he sat by that same paraffin lamp, planning, dreaming, and praying. He didn't know how, but he knew this was not where his story would end.