By DeHays Amoah
Dear Mr. President,
With all humility and deep respect, I write this open letter not to criticize, not to complain, but to make a sincere and honest request — one that reflects the reality of many young Ghanaians like myself who are striving to find purpose, dignity, and stability in a country we love dearly.
Mr. President, please employ me to carry the Vice President’s handbag.
Yes, you read right. I am not asking for a ministerial appointment, a government contract, or a diplomatic posting. All I am asking for is the opportunity to carry the Vice President’s handbag — even if it means following her under the scorching sun from event to event, from town to town.
This may sound humorous or even beneath the ambitions of a university graduate like myself, but let me explain.
A Symbol of Opportunity
To many, carrying a handbag may seem like a menial task, but in today’s Ghana, even menial tasks have become luxury privileges. It is no longer just about education, skill, or merit. It is about access. It is about getting close enough to the corridors of power, where sometimes, even silence speaks louder than a certificate.
I do not seek handouts. I seek an opportunity — to learn, to serve, and to rise. If carrying a bag opens the door to mentorship, exposure, or even a footnote in the next big national decision, then it is a job worth more than gold.
The Reality on the Ground
There are thousands like me. Graduates who have done everything society asked of us: we studied hard, we stayed out of trouble, we volunteered, we passed our exams. Yet we wake up each morning to the bitter truth that effort alone no longer guarantees reward.
We watch political party foot soldiers and influencers leapfrog into offices we can only dream of. We see the jobs we trained for advertised but already “shared.” We hear promises every election cycle, but our pockets remain empty, and our futures unclear.
So yes, I am applying — publicly and boldly — to be the one to carry the Vice President’s handbag. Not because I think that is where my talent ends, but because, in this Ghana, even that might be a step forward.
A Plea for Inclusion
Mr. President, I am not asking for favors — I am asking for inclusion. I am asking you to look at the honest, hardworking, hopeful youth of Ghana and say, “I see you. I hear you. I will give you a chance.”
Let us work. Let us serve. Let us carry the bags, if we must, until we can carry the burdens of leadership ourselves.
If my letter finds its way to your desk, know that it carries the voice of a generation — not just DeHays Amoah, but the many whose dreams have not yet died, even if they’re bruised.
Sincerely,
DeHays Amoah
A Willing Bag Carrier
A Hopeful Ghanaian
A Son of the Soil
Nawule, Western Region, Ghana
