The power of mentorship: Why children need more than parents.
In Somali culture, the concept of mentorship holds great significance. However, only a few words or phrases can fully capture its meaning. This creates challenges for those seeking to impart mentorship’s benefits to others. In my book, “Between a Rock and Hard Place: A Somali Boy Growing Up in Minnesota,” I tell the story of a young boy who dropped out of school, leaving his parents uncertain about what to do.
Through the help of a friend, they arranged an apprenticeship for him at a pizza shop. After working there for a few months, the son managed to save some money and decided he wanted to buy a motorbike. Concerned about the risks involved, his parents tried to discourage him, but he refused to listen to their advice.
One day, the mentor at the pizza shop overheard the boy expressing his desire to buy a motorbike. Recognising the potential dangers given the local road conditions, with slippery roads surrounded by steep hills, the mentor offered a word of caution. Without hesitation, the boy accepted the advice and chose to abandon his ambition to buy a motorbike, instead opting to save for a car. This story exemplifies the influence and impact that a mentor can have on a young person’s decision-making process.
My empirical research, which forms the basis of my book, also indicates that parents play a crucial role in their children’s upbringing, particularly between the ages of 6 and 16. However, beyond that stage, children require more than just their parents’ guidance. This is where mentorship comes into play. There are several reasons why this is the case. For instance, during the post-16 period, children find themselves during their teenage years — a time of tremendous upheaval. Boys, for example, seek to establish their own identities separate from their fathers, while girls strive to carve their paths independently of their mothers.
This doesn’t mean they no longer need their parents; their needs evolve. Instructions transform into advice, and the once-passive listening turns into questioning and active rebuttals. This shift occurs because boys are transitioning into young adult males, and girls are becoming young adult females.
To illustrate this further, I’d like to share a personal story — one that didn’t make it into my book. Here is the story; when I was in my mid-20s, I decided to settle in the UK. At the top of my priorities was obtaining advanced degrees, regardless of the cost or sacrifices required. Having previously lived in Europe, I understood that education played a vital role in leading a meaningful life in the diaspora.
While qualifications alone don’t guarantee success, they form a crucial foundation for a successful career and an enlightened life. I achieved my educational goals after years of hard work and substantial financial investment.
Naturally, my attention turned to my children, hoping they would follow in my footsteps. They excelled in school, and the time came for my eldest to apply to university. However, just a month before the start of his academic year — a moment that filled me with pride as I saw him emulating my path — he informed me one evening that he wanted to take a gap year and start an online business during that time. He even expressed the possibility of pursuing entrepreneurship instead of academics if his company took off.
I was very disappointed, feeling that my plans for him to attend university had crumbled, and he would not earn degrees like his father.
A year passed, and I still felt disappointment and anger. However, I eventually realised I needed to allow him to explore his entrepreneurial dreams. Unfortunately, his business venture failed, resulting in some financial losses, though not that much. Another year went by, and one day, while waiting for a train in another city, my son engaged in small talk with a stranger — a fellow Londoner who happened to be waiting for the same train.
The stranger asked my son if he was a university student, as the city was known for its university. My son replied that he was visiting and had no intention of attending university, instead pursuing something else. This conversation led to an emotional exchange between them:
Stranger: “Hey, man.”
My son: “Hey, man.”
Stranger: “Are you a Uni student? This town is a university city.”
My son: “No, I was just visiting here.”
Stranger: “Didn’t you want to go to Uni?”
My son: “No, not this time. I want to pursue something else.”
Stranger: Opens up about his own experience. “Listen, young man, I don’t really know you, but you seem like a decent lad. Don’t make the same mistake I did at your age. I refused to go to university, thinking I’d become a successful entrepreneur. Now, at 36, heavy with responsibilities — a wife, two kids, and a menial job — I barely make ends meet. I don’t know you, but please don’t repeat the same mistake I made.”
My son: “Thanks for the advice, man. I’ll think about it.”
When the train arrived, they both boarded. Once my son returned to London, he immediately called me to share that he had changed his mind. He said he now realised the wisdom of pursuing a university education, as per my initial guidance.
While I was pleased by the news, it took me some time to fully process the power of that mentor — the stranger who, despite not having any official mentoring role, managed to influence my son in a way that I, as his biological father, had failed to do. This is the essence of mentorship. Post-16, young boys and girls often pay more attention to external voices than those within their own families. And that’s perfectly fine, as long as they receive good advice.
The story finishes with a happy ending: my son has indeed benefited from a university education, thanks to the guidance he received from an unexpected mentor. This serves as a testament to the power and importance of mentorship in a young person’s life.
