Kenya's job market is taking some twists and turns

Last time, I wrote about how the competition in the job market in Kenya is getting stiffer by the day. More and more people now have master’s degrees, for example. The question is: Where does that leave those who cannot afford to climb the education ladder that high?

There are other options. One can go to a tertiary college. I have several cousins and other relatives who did not have the finances to go on to university once they finished high school, even though they had worked hard enough to get grades that would have been sufficient for entering a university.
So the next best place for them was a polytechnic or a college, which usually require two years of study to earn a certificate or a diploma. I recognize that other countries may have a different meaning for diploma. For us, the PhD is regarded as the highest educational level, then the master’s degree, then the bachelor’s, then a diploma and, at the bottom, is a certificate.

Those with just a diploma cannot compete for the same jobs as people with a master’s. Needless to say, most of my cousins did not stand much of a chance at a white-collar job. Most of them resorted to starting a business or farming, which is also a viable option. The girls mostly got married off.

But for those who want to attend university, there are other options for financing education such as government loans and bursaries from the state – including from local governments. I received a government loan, which I am still repaying. The funds offered are usually sufficient to pay for fees in a state university with just enough left over as pocket money.

What happens in this system is that the space for creativity and for nurturing talent in areas like art and music is almost non-existent – a problem different from the one Hellgurd discussed in Iraq.  That is because studying these fields is not regarded as education! Parents generally frown on their children if they say that they would like to be musicians or artists when they grow up.

There are a few people who have had an education in music, art, drama or similar areas, but people tend to consider that as involving talent and entertainment – not education.

Personally, I think it’s important to find a balance between what one is good at, where one’s strengths lie and what puts food on the table.

Playing together with a friend at our institute's annual festival

In my last entry, I talked about the problems in Iraq’s fine arts institutes. In the last decades in Kurdistan, I think people have come to a better understanding of art in general – and music specifically – but this is not true in every area of my country. Some families do not allow their girls to study music – or sometimes even their boys – because of religious beliefs or because they think it’s inappropriate to make music. You’ll find this view mostly among people who live in the countryside but also among people who have left their villages for small towns or cities or, finally, those with very conservative minds. I know a famous Kurdish musician who studied music for five years away from his hometown without letting his father know what he was studying there. It was only after he graduated that his father found out – otherwise he would have stopped his son’s studies.

When I started studying music, I was living in a place that people rejected music and musicians. Even some of my closest friends laughed at me and my hobby. But I always told myself that I was stronger than the things pushing me to change my path. What drove me crazy was that most of the people were listening to music and Kurdish songs over the TVs and Radios. I could never understand why even though they seemed to enjoy music, they would also make a point of rejecting it? It mostly came down to religion. I remember that Islamic TV stations were not using music for any of their programs – news excluded – but gradually they changed their stance, too.

That change helped make people think differently than in the past. On the other hand, views were very different in the big cities like Erbil, Sulaymaneyah and Duhok. These places have a long history of struggling and making sacrifices to resist social pressure.

My brother, Chia, the bass player

I was lucky that my family was different. Both of my parents are from a village near Iran’s border. My father had to leave school straight after finishing primary school due to political reasons and crisis. Instead of studying, he had to become a warrior. But he was still able to develop many talents like singing, painting, poetry, nice handwriting and playing a Kurdish musical instrument, the shimshal.

The luckier one in my family, though, is my little brother. He also applied to study music at a fine arts institute. He was very lazy when he was in secondary school, and finishing it was a huge chore for him. But when he started to study music, I found him very clever. He chose to play the double bass. But lots of ordinary people here don’t even know what his instrument is. Sometimes he has to answer lots of dumb questions: How can you like that sound? Would you use it as a boat? Why did you choose such an instrument? Is it a violin that got bigger in water?

But what is there to say? Some people have no idea…