“When you’re unemployed you’re no longer considered a man in the home.” That was the view of a listener who called into a radio station a few weeks ago. In that single sentence that man drove the point home of what being unemployed means to so many men who have been conditioned to believe that their sense of self-worth can be influenced by whether or not they are able to work and provide for their families.

The sad reality is that most of us don’t like our jobs, but if we are fortunate enough to be employed, we are in a far better space, mentally, emotionally, physically and spiritually. Last time I checked, unemployment was well over 30% in South Africa, and even higher amongst the youth.

 I remember driving home one afternoon (I lived in Katlehong at the time), and wondering why there’s always so many people milling around. And then, suddenly, like a lone drop from a leaking tap in the middle of the night, the penny dropped. Unemployment. All these dejected faces and vague expressions that I passed each and every single day belonged to those men and women who make up the high numbers of unemployment in our country.

For ten years I have been extremely privileged and blessed to be able to do what I love for a living, working with young children. I have had the absolute pleasure of waking up every morning with a sense of purpose, helping shape little people at the most crucial stage of their development, foundation phase. Even more rewarding is the fact that the feedback you get from working with little children at this level is instantaneous. If you’ve put on a bit of weight, they’ll tell you you’re fat and you’ll have to accept it and move on. Because they are visual, you quickly learn that it’s not personal. That’s a story for another day.

Fast forward to present day. After many years of service, love, laughter and reward – blowing my whistle without a face mask on, then with, then without, again I have finally resigned from the job that made me come alive. In fact, job is the wrong word. Working with little children is a calling. Why resign then? Because sometimes, sadly, it’s peripheral issues that interfere with the essence of what you love, and it’s always best to leave while you are still on top of your game.

As I type this piece, it has been almost a year since I last stood in front of my little munchkins. It has been months of looking for employment. The general rule is you don’t resign unless you’ve found alternative employment, but let’s just say my mental wellbeing was at stake. Suddenly, the same feelings I experienced during the hard lockdown have come flooding back: the uncertainty; the anxiety; the sense of limbo; the lack of direction and purpose; the frustration; the questioning of one’s self-worth. Suddenly, I’m aware that I now need the same structure and routine that I’ve given hundreds of my young students over the years. Without it the negative voices can become amplified.

What is my point? I now understand the strain in that caller’s voice when he called into that radio station that morning. You see, whether you like what you do or not, you are blessed if you are employed because it gives you a reason to get up every morning. If you are a breadwinner, a parent, or someone with dependents, you need that salary in order to pay the bills, pay the school fees, and just feel like you are making a meaningful contribution, no matter how small.

Without a job you are stripped of way more than just the means to fill a trolley with groceries. You are stripped of your human dignity and self-respect. You are stripped of your ability to maintain a healthy outlook on life, and the satisfaction of enjoying the sweat of your own brow. Unemployment denies you structure, purpose and routine. Now with that in mind, ask yourself: How many dejected souls roam the streets? What are the levels of utter despair that saturate our communities every day?