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Although pulled by family and cultural ties in Zambia, every time I looked, prospects for my personal development appeared to diminish. They’re seemed to be fewer and fewer reasons for me to return, and more and more reasons for me to stay away. I could not help feeling that job opportunities commensurate with my education and experience lay not at home, but abroad. Those jobs that did exist at home (of course there were highly paid jobs available) were in an environment laden with creaking bureaucracy. My best friend took a different tack. Having reached academic heights at the best of America’s universities, against her better judgment and my warnings, she decided to return home. She has spent the last three years providing much-needed help in our country’s social sector. But now she is ready to leave Zambia once more. Not because she doesn’t love her job, not because she hasn’t helped, but because she, like many other educated Africans who live abroad but are desperate to return home, feels that her country continues to flounder in a seemingly never-ending cycle of corruption, disease, poverty and aid-dependency. She looks at her situation and asks herself, what is going wrong here?


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