I CHOSE A LIFE OF FREEDOM BY GIVING UP UNFULFILLING ODD JOBS IN AMERICA

By Emmanuel Atcha

I still remember the day I took over my first store in the United States. I was so happy and proud. I understood the challenges of being an entrepreneur, but it was my choice and I wasn't afraid of it. Because by setting up my own company, I became the master of my own destiny. I particularly enjoy having more time to devote to my family.

One of the biggest difficulties I had when I was in my native Togo, a small, poor country of 56,600 square kilometers situated between Ghana and Benin, was keeping in constant touch with my loved ones.  

“Very few Togolese journalists have achieved anything in their lives.” 

As a freelance journalist, I had to work harder to make ends meet. I'd go out early in the morning and come back late at night, working seven days a week, 18 hours a day. Which obviously leaves very little room for a decent family life.

Journalism in Togo doesn't pay. Very few Togolese journalists have achieved anything in their lives. For the few who have, most have had to rub shoulders with politics and get involved in unethical business dealings. Which, quite apart from the ethical issues, didn't suit my personality either. Paying my rent, which was close to 50,000 FCFA at the time, maintaining my car, paying for my son's school, helping the family, providing for myself and my partner, etc., were all becoming a growing burden for me. Journalism could not give me the money I needed to take care of myself.  Not only could I not be with the family because of my workload, but I also couldn't provide for basic needs. What a shame!

I had to find a solution. I didn't have a family growing up. It was something I envied my peers. I vowed to do something about it, and above all not to put my children through the same thing. Coupled with the high cost of living, a solution had to be found. For most young Togolese, their first dream is to leave the country. The country's socio-political and economic situation explains this. For me, the best destination was the USA. Europe came second. Ghanaian through my mother, I first went to Accra to experience the social and administrative difference. In Togo, we could offer better things to Togolese youth. I couldn't go on putting up with the situation. I was slowly killing myself. The United States gave me the solution. But, getting adjusted there was far from easy. 

Culture shock, language barrier

I arrived for the first time in the United States on the eighth of October in 2017. I landed in Newark, New Jersey. As soon as I arrived at the airport, I could immediately see the difference with Togo. Communication was the first thing that struck me. In my home country, they try to understand you, they respect you and they give you time to express your needs very clearly. Here, you're asked to read posters and leaflets, to ask questions if you have to, and to think. We ask you to look for the right information, not just the hearsay.

In Togo, in my day, we gave the impression of discouraging reflection, and the welcome could be unpleasant except for foreigners. Posters and notices were not read, they were thrown away; and where? When I was finally able to leave the airport and enter the USA for real, I thought that was the end of my ordeal. I was wrong, but at that moment, I couldn't have known. How could I have known if, throughout our youth in Togo, America was presented to us as an Eldorado where we had the impression that, even without effort, we could get by?

"I have friends who spent 20 years in the United States and have never felt at home.”  

The biggest challenge when leaving French-speaking Africa for the United States is integration. Many have never succeeded. I have friends who have spent 20 years in the United States without ever feeling at home. This is due to a difficult, if not impossible, integration process for some. The main barrier is obviously language. Not everyone is a good listener.

This barrier appears as early as the airport. The first people I spoke to in English were the immigration officers. I don't know if it was due to their training, but they listened to me and even waved their hands to tell me to take it easy and take my time so I could say what I wanted. My English was so bad! They tried to speak to me calmly too, so that I could understand them. Describing what I had in my suitcase, what I'd come to the USA to do, was complicated. I was nervous and very uptight. I was even afraid of failing. I got through it thanks to the patience and pedagogy of the agents. Just when I thought I was the only one and feeling lucky, I saw that behind me they were doing the same exercise with another newcomer. This language barrier, I told myself, had to be overcome quickly to facilitate my integration.

“In America, no one is there for each other and there is a constant feeling that you are all alone.”

When you're under pressure from family back home in Africa, and you have to dive right in to help them get back on their feet, you don't really have the time to learn English properly. So you're forced to ignore the diplomas you've earned in Africa and the professional experience you've accumulated over the years, and take on odd jobs that don't really require a good command of English. Not to mention the question of diploma equivalence!

The second barrier is the social structure. Apart from the state, which is there for everyone, neighbors don't really exist. In America, no one is there for each other and there is a constant feeling that you are all alone. 

On the street, greetings only exist if you really know each other or if you have something to say. Sometimes not even that. Sometimes the city seems deserted and lifeless. Everyone's at work. And when you've just arrived and have to stay at home all day, for someone like me who was proactive in Lomé, it was an ordeal.

In Togo, where I come from, at least you could meet people in the street, crowded on improvised playgrounds, in front of houses. It was crowded and you could blend in and live. Here in the USA, things are very different. None of that exists. Not even a friend to go out for a drink or a chat with. You're alone, really alone. It takes a strong mind to endure this life summed up in one's self.

The third barrier is lack of information. The United States is so vast and deep that information is hard to come by, especially if you don't speak English. And what's worse, people from the same background can't give you the right information. The big prayer is that you'll come across the right person when you have a particular need.

A life of hardship between Atlanta and Dallas

When I first arrived in the United States, I headed for Atlanta in the state of Georgia. There are many African-Americans in this historic city, but in my opinion, few opportunities compared to other cities in the country, notably Dallas. I can thank my host family. Of Togolese origin like me, even if they meant well, it was never easy. It has to be said that they also lacked a lot of information.

I spent nine months in Atlanta. I did a succession of odd jobs in the church sector. I had to survive. I took advantage of my free time to perfect my English. To achieve my goal, I enrolled in English classes at the English Skills Learning (ESL) center. Also in my church activities, I took advantage of my proximity to my compatriots, who were quite numerous there, to practice the courses on the ground. This was the first step in my integration. Breaking the language barrier was the decisive step. Unfortunately, dissatisfied with my still precarious and unenviable living conditions, not to mention the burden of my family back home, I had a decision, or rather a resolution, to make.

“I was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel.” 

Almost a year after my arrival, I made the decision to leave Atlanta for Texas, and more specifically Dallas. Travelling almost 1,300 km, about 15 hours, in search of a better condition, was less than the journey I'd already made on leaving Africa. However, it was a brave thing to do. I didn't know it when I knew it, I didn't know it until afterwards. There was no time to lose. I only knew one friend in Dallas. He was the one who told me about the state. Once there, I spent a few months in his apartment. On a human and professional level, it was yet another challenge.

From journalist to docker to Walmart salesman to cab driver...

First job, a docker. I worked like my friend, loading and unloading people's luggage through their houses. For those sending goods to Africa by container, we had to go to their homes to load their goods and other luggage. For those who had placed orders from another country or continent, we also had to go and unload their orders. As a fairly well-known media man in my country, I found myself a long way from my sector. Life is like that, the struggle goes on !

I came to the U.S. to really make something of myself. Not to keep slaving away. Things had to change. Especially since I found myself on the streets. I slept for 40 days in parks, I was a homeless person, as we call them here. When I left, I had promised my father, my son, that I would come back a better man, but how could I be homeless? Unfortunately, I had no choice, following a disagreement with the brother who had taken me in. He sent me away.

What would I tell my family? One day, as I was loading goods at the port for a family, I met the manager of a Walmart store. I had helped him without realizing who he was. I was very active. He noticed and couldn't resist chatting with me as he thanked me. He introduced himself and I decided to give it a go. Fortunately, there was room for me. The next morning, I had to report to the store. That's how I left my job as a longshoreman to become a Walmart salesman. My first real job in the USA.

“My wife and I rarely saw each other, even though we lived under the same roof. Were we still a family?” 

My experience at Walmart was rewarding. I was able to get off the streets and rent a studio apartment. I also got married to a beautiful Togolese woman I had met in the United States and with whom I got on with very quickly. We could make plans together. I was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Nothing could stop me. I worked at Walmart for just over a year. Serving all day, I made a lot of friends.

But as much as I wanted to work hard to meet all my needs, I was also drifting apart socially. I no longer had time for anything. You had to work a lot to earn a lot. Work, work and nothing but work. I wasn't living socially.  A difficult situation. As good an African as I am, it wasn't easy for me to cut myself off completely from my family. My father, my brother, my son, we rarely spoke. Sometimes not at all.

My wife and I rarely saw each other, even though we lived under the same roof. Were we still a family? Were we a real couple? What's a couple where you hardly ever see each other? The man comes home when the woman goes to work and the woman comes home when the man leaves the house. One day I started to think seriously about this. The search for a decent life was destroying my life and taking my soul. If I fight, it's so that one day my family and I can have a decent life. But if I have to fight for a family that will eventually no longer exist, what's the point? I had to find a balance.

Taking my destiny into my own hands

I decided to leave Walmart and look for a job where my schedule would allow me to manage better. I joined Uber. I drove a cab and picked up passengers who used the app and asked for me. I could then decide how to work. At first, I tried to work the conventional 8-hour day. By then, I had regained control of my social and family life. Except that, at this rate, the family was running out of means. The balance wasn't there yet.

“Fortunately, in the USA, when you need $10,000, you know what you have to do to get it.”

It was a good job though. My income was just not good enough. Happy without means? That old definition of happiness is out of date. After a few months, I decided to take a job where tipping could, in my opinion, be more advantageous. I signed up as a DART driver. I drove a kind of ambulance that wasn't used for emergencies, but nonetheless, for specific situations. Every day, I would pick up patients undergoing treatment who needed to go to hospital. I'd also have to pick them up on the way back. I worked at it for ten months. A good job, good insurance, but you don't have to do it all your life. Unfortunately, I was still unsatisfied. What could I do?

The beginning of my liberation

One evening on my way home from work, a bright idea popped into my head. Having worked in loading and unloading goods, in Walmart stores and in transport, don't I have enough experience to set up something and be my own boss? This idea stayed with me all evening and I couldn't sleep. The next day, a weekend, I was on my PC all morning. I had to have the right information. In the afternoon, I went to see my banker to get additional information. The idea matured into a project. I knew what I had to do. I just had to work to get the money I needed to get started. Now that I knew what I had to do, I decided to make one last sacrifice by immersing myself in work once again. Fortunately, in the USA, when you need $10,000, you know what you have to do to get it. And now all you need is determination, and you can do it. It's not like in Africa or Togo, where determination alone isn't enough.

“I've been self-employed for four years now. I live better!”

After another eight months of hard work at DART, I was able to set up my own small business. I started with a boutique in 2020. I sell household appliances, electronics, ready-to-wear clothes, shoes, glasses and so on. Today, my business has flourished. I've opened a second boutique run by my wife. It sells women's cosmetics. Even though the various economic crises that have hit the world, and the USA in particular, have shaken us, we're holding our own. It hasn't been easy for us, but my family and I are getting by today. We can afford to take a few vacations in Africa or go out to eat without always being bound by a rigid calendar. We're the ones who set the schedules and we're the ones who decide. It's true that entrepreneurship isn't easy. It requires a lot of sacrifices at the beginning and on a daily basis. But I knew that. I can handle it and I do handle it. I've been self-employed for four years now. I live better!

Recently, I was reading Lionel Messi, one of the best soccer players in history, who said he was very unhappy in Paris because he couldn't take his children to school and couldn't see them come back either, because the schedules didn't coincide. Many criticized him, arguing that he earned a lot and didn't have to say that anymore. With a few exceptions, I understood. When you're born into a family that's barely together because of a lack of money due to mom or dad's job, and your Christmas and New Year's celebrations are marked by loneliness, you don't want your family to go through the same thing one day. It makes you very sad and very unhappy. 

By setting up my own business in the United States, I was able to have more time for my family. With our two children, Madame and I, we see each other regularly and spend more time together. Financially, we're getting by. I've got my act together. And Lionel Messi, my inspiration, has done the same. He'll soon be co-owner of Inter Miami.

Emmanuel Atcha is a Togolese business owner living in Dallas, Texas. He loves music, traveling and spending time with friends.