Chapter 5-Just a Child

Eric sat on the front steps of his home, his small legs swinging as he stared at the evening sky. The sunset painted the clouds in shades of gold and orange, and in his heart, he felt the same fire burning. He had spent the entire day thinking about his dream—how he would make Ghana the greatest country in the world.

He couldn't keep it to himself any longer. He needed to tell someone. Someone who mattered.

When his father, Mr. Kofi Nyarko, arrived home from work, Eric ran to him excitedly. His father was a tall man with strong hands, hands that worked hard to feed their family. He carried the scent of wood and sweat—evidence of a long day at the carpentry shop.

"Papa, I want to talk to you," Eric said, his eyes shining.

His father smiled and sat on a wooden stool. "Ah, my son, what is it?"

Eric took a deep breath. "I want to make Ghana the greatest country in the world."

There was a long silence. Then, his father chuckled. "Ei, Eric, you and your big dreams. What do you even mean by that?"

"I mean I want to help people, build things, and fix problems. I want to make Ghana a place where everyone is happy and successful."

His father shook his head, still smiling. "You are just a child. What do you know about building a nation? Do you even know how difficult life is?"

Eric's heart sank, but he refused to give up. "But, Papa, I've been thinking—"

"Ei, thinking?" His father laughed, but this time, it wasn't the warm, playful laugh Eric loved. It was the kind adults used when they didn't take children seriously. "Eric, listen to me. Life is not about dreams. It is about survival. You should focus on school and stop thinking about impossible things."

Eric clenched his fists. "It's not impossible!"

His father sighed, his tone softer now. "I know you are smart, my son, but the world doesn't work the way you think it does. One person cannot change a whole country. Even our leaders struggle. You should think about being something small but useful—a teacher, a doctor, maybe even a carpenter like me."

Eric wanted to argue, but he saw it in his father's eyes—he wasn't trying to be mean. He was just a man who had worked hard all his life and never seen miracles happen.

But Eric wasn't like that. He believed in miracles. He believed in change.

As his father got up to wash his hands for dinner, Eric sat still, staring at the ground. His father's words hurt, but they didn't break him. If nobody believed in his dream, then he would make them believe.