The child who must make it

An honest reflection on the weight of being the one everyone is counting on. There is a particular kind of child in an African home. The child whose name comes up in conversations about the future.The child whose success is already being discussed before they have even figured out what they want to do with their life.The child whose parents look at them and see hope.The child whose relatives have somehow concluded that, when things finally get better, it will probably be because of them. Sometimes, nobody says it directly. But the child knows. They know from the sacrifices their parents make. From the way their mother talks about how much she has invested in their education. From the way their father occasionally reminds them that they are the family's hope. From the relatives who ask, "How far? When are you going to make us proud?" From the younger ones who look up to them. From the siblings whose opportunities may depend on how well they do. And slowly, without anybody officially handing them the responsibility, this child begins to carry something much bigger than themselves. They become the child who must make it. And God, sometimes, the weight of being that child is something nobody really talks about. Because how do you explain that you are tired when everybody is depending on you to be strong? How do you admit that you are confused when everyone assumes you already have your life figured out? How do you tell your parents that you are scared when they have spent so much money, time, energy, and prayer believing that you will become something great? How do you even allow yourself to fail when failure feels like more than just a personal disappointment? For some children, failing an examination is just failing an examination. But for the child who must make it, it can feel like a family investment has gone to waste. For some people, changing their course of study is simply a decision. But for this child, it might mean disappointing a parent who has already told the whole village what their child is studying. For some people, taking their time to figure life out is normal. But for this child, every delay feels like a clock ticking against the dreams of several people. And so they learn to keep going. Even when they are exhausted. Even when they are unsure. Even when they look at their mates and wonder why everybody else seems to be moving forward while they are still trying to understand what is happening with their own life. They keep going because, somewhere along the line, they begin to believe that they do not have the luxury of falling apart. After all, who will save the family if the family saviour is struggling?

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