International Development Journalism Competition: Liberia's Future
"I want be engineer, make bridges, dem tall houses". Abraham explains his dreams clearly, and they are dreams that would contribute to lifting his country out of its violent past and its poverty-stricken present. "But I don' know book, so I just here". His English is clearly articulated despite the fact that he's never been to school. Abraham is 24 years old and instead of a childhood in the classroom he spent his younger days as a soldier in Charles Taylor's rebel army. This was the only job he's ever had.
Abraham Jarwleh lives in Liberia, a small, smouldering nation hanging off the shoulder of West Africa. It is one of the most impoverished countries in the world, and it has one of the highest rates of youth unemployment. According to the Liberian Ministry of Health and Social Welfare, 52% of Liberia's population is aged 19 or younger. In the capital, Monrovia, 63% are under the age of 25. Figures from the United Nations Development Program suggest that only 10% of these young people are formally employed. This leaves 90% with little choice but to use what they know to make a living.
What they know is violence and crime. For fourteen years between 1989 and 2003, young Liberians grew up in an ever escalating environment of brutality as civil war rocked their nation. Immediately following the eventual ceasefire, Monrovia tripled in size with the arrival of refugees and former soldiers unable to return home to communities devastated by their actions.
As he talks, Abraham's piercing eyes hold a strong gaze and his taut muscles suggest that they at least are not used to idling. He explains that he is uneducated, and inadequate reintegration failed to help prepare him for adult life (Abraham's demobilization consisted of three days in a UN camp, after which he was deemed miraculously ready to become a productive member of society). Having been torn from his family, the "national madness" then abandoned him on the streets, outcast and marginalised in society because of his past. Surviving at the bottom of the heap in Liberia's embryonic labour market is not easy.
There have been many attempts by both Government and international aid agencies to address the problems that Abraham is facing. One such scheme was recently launched by the Liberian Ministry of Youth in partnership with the Ministry of Labour to provide immediate short-term job opportunities for young people in Monrovia. Supported by the World Bank, the $16 million dollar Youth, Employment and Skills (YES) project also aims to demonstrate how skills development can lead to longer term employment... but it is too early to say whether this aspect of the programme will prove successful.
Whether or not those who benefit from the YES programme are able to remain in employment long term, attempts like this are not going to be enough on their own – the problem is too systemic, the numbers too vast.
Recognising the political significance of this fact, the current government won power in 2006 largely on the back of a dual promise to educate young people and to create jobs for them. In November this year President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf will face the polls again to ask for a second term, and the same campaign promises are likely to be made. These promises are easier to make than to keep.
To understand this better, meet Samuel Korbu. Despite the sweltering heat, he is wearing a thick knitted Chelsea FC hat and I briefly wonder how it found its way into his possession. He is 26 years old, has a Master's degree in business administration from the University of Liberia and over the last three years has taken part in no less than seven different skills development courses. He is busy as a full-time volunteer at the National Museum and he leads a local youth group, but he is beginning to feel frustrated: "I got my education so that I will be ready when the jobs come, but I thought that I would be working by now. I enjoy my work and I want to contribute but now the rainy season has come my room is flooded and I need money to fix it."
So it turns out that education and training, typically seen in Liberia as the direct route to employment, may not be so after all – in fact World Bank figures show that unemployment in Africa is actually higher amongst the better educated. So the ability of people like Samuel and Abraham to find jobs is not just dependent on how well they are prepared for the labour market; it is equally dependent on how well the labour market is prepared for them – and fixing this lack of demand is not as quick or easy as fixing the supply of skills. Creating jobs on the scale that is needed requires focused and coordinated socio-economic policy making across government, and it takes time. All the signs suggest that Liberia has started on the right path towards this goal but time ticks on by, and people don't get any younger.
The United Nations Mission in Liberia (UNMIL) currently has 14,000 troops on the ground keeping the peace. After November's election they will begin to leave, and however well prepared they are, the 2000-strong Armed Forces of Liberia will not be able to protect the stability that is now enjoyed. Liberia's future really rests in the hands of Abraham and the hundreds of thousands of young people like him, who gather on muddy street corners and sit in dark doorways across the nation watching, waiting for something to happen, something to do.
These people deserve and need an opportunity to become part of a productive and stable society. Otherwise Liberia will face a troubled future as well as a troubled past. Abraham sums this up as clearly as he had articulated his own dream: "This my country and I want it fine. We jus need jobs so we can go forward. Never back".
This feature was written for the Guardian International Development Journalism competition before 13 June 2011.