When we set out to judge this year’s creative writing contest on the theme “How Do You Hope to Shape the Future,” we expected inspiring visions and heartfelt dreams from our young writers aged 9 to 16. What we didn’t expect was to find a voice that would fundamentally interrogate the question itself, and in doing so, reveal a level of critical thinking and intellectual courage that left us genuinely moved.
Sharon’s essay stands out with remarkable sophistication and critical thinking. While other entries shared beautiful dreams of what could be, Sharon’s essay demanded accountability for what is. She didn’t just tell us she wants to make a difference; she showed us she’s already studying the changemakers who are doing the work, citing real Nigerian advocates who are transforming lives right now. Her voice is urgent, informed, and unapologetically ambitious.
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I look at the above question, and I ask myself, ‘What exactly in the future needs shaping?’, ‘Which shape does the future even need—Square? Trapezium? Because honestly, when you think about it, everyone seems to be obsessed with shaping ‘the future’, the mysterious ‘to come’. But what happens to ‘the now’, this imperfect, present moment we live in?
My name is Sharon Chinaza Osunwa, and I am a recent secondary school graduate. In my family, most of our bonding time happens in front of the television, tuning in to the news (8:00 p.m., 10:00 p.m., breaking news, replays), from CNN to Al Jazeera, with familiar faces like Seun Okinbaloye and Rufai Oseni. The list is endless. If it is not insecurity, it is corruption; when it is neither, it is fuel scarcity, electricity tariffs, inflation, or yet another government palliative that never reaches the people it was supposedly meant for. And no, these recent happenings did not just ‘start’ happening; it has been our reality for a long, long time.
This is also a shame because if we fold our arms and decide to do nothing, but ‘wait to shape the future’, the future will eventually shape itself. And trust me, it might not take the shape we would like.
And that is why I refuse to simply ‘hope’. I refuse to wait for some grand destiny or prophecy concerning Nigeria to be fulfilled. I refuse to join those who believe they have no power, that their voices do not count, or that their only duty is to clap during political rallies and complain afterward on X. I refuse the option of apathy, the temptation to ‘mind my business,’ or the illusion that somehow, someone else will fix the nation while I sit pretty and watch.
What would I do instead?
I choose to look at Deborah Oludimu, who, through advocacy and grassroots projects, is working towards ending period poverty by reaching over 15,000 girls across 19 different states in Nigeria. Or Oluwaseun Osowobi, who turned her painful personal experiences into a nationwide movement through Stand To End Rape Initiative (STER), fighting sexual and gender based violence. Then there is Eunice Omojola, who looked at the sorry state of public schools’ computer labs and decided to teach ICT skills to underserved students through her TechInEdu initiative.
I choose to believe that my contribution, no matter how small, can join with others to create real change. Next year, I will get into tertiary education, and with that opportunity comes an even greater responsibility. Whether through campus advocacy, volunteering or even small community projects, I intend to practice the change I want to see, not just talk about it.
Because one day, when the news cameras roll and the anchors announce ‘Breaking news: a new Nigeria is possible,’ I want to know that my hands were part of the molding.