I will never be poor

Try not to say it in Ola of Lagos’ voice

This day, I say that I’ll never be poor. I’m not saying this because I saw a flashy car that I felt looked good. Oh that car indeed looked good. But there are better ones. I see them all the time.

It’s probably because of the house. Is it? The house did look great. Its garden is like the religious illustration of paradise. It smells old money and new comfort but is that why I will never be poor.

Not exactly.

Perhaps it’s because of the articles of ostentation. The beautiful things of the world. The gold and diamond. The shiny metals of the world. They’re beautiful, but it’s not why I will never be poor.

I will never be poor because I’ve seen what poverty does to people. I’ve seen how it enters the room and makes everyone doubt the poor’s intent. Poor, poor human.

Poverty is not having a roof over your head, food in your store, shoes and clothes in your wardrobe or closet but no cash in your pocket. That has another name, and you know it. It’s not poverty.

When you’re poor, you don’t like you. The rich hates the poor, and the poor hates the poor more. The government pretends like they care, but there’s no government that loves the poor. They’d rather you’re rich or stable at least.

When you’re poor, you accept crumbs even when you deserve more because you’ve lacked so much that you have no idea of what you deserve.

To put it straight to you, there’s nothing that will help you when you’re poor. You may be the most peaceful person in the room and you’ll still be seen as the most dangerous. Simply because you don’t have what others have, even when they actually have nothing.

I will never be poor because It strips one of confidence. It strips one of agency. It strips one of health. It strips one of opportunities. It strips one of straight, logical reasoning. It strips one of spirituality. It strips one of self-worth. It strips one of the good things of life.

A poor man cannot afford good food. They eat what they see. They feed on junks too because that’s available. They become obese. They live with comorbidities. They cannot afford healthcare. They cannot afford good housing. They labour, long for peace and freedom from their bodies. It rejects them, because even your body hates you when you’re poor.

When you’re poor, your soul despises you. It asks you for enrichment but what time do you have to fill your inner spirits, when your physical body needs nourishment?

Everyone asks you to give. Givers, they say, never lack. But when you don’t have, you can’t give, and that means, you’ll always receive. And I hate to break it to you, by that idea, receivers will probably always lack. Sad.

When you’re poor, your forebears will labour. They’ll blame you for not being better than them despite their sacrifice.

Your future will also be belaboured. They won’t forgive you too for not working hard enough to make their paths easier. They’ll ask why you brought them to suffer. They’ll sit with you and look you in the eyes to tell that you never did your best.

When I say I’ll never be poor, I’m not talking about fast cars and sweet dreams. I’m not describing holding yachts in Monaco or being in control of the oil rigs of the world. I’m not talking about becoming richer than my neighbour. Absolutely not.

When I say I’ll never be poor, I mean I want to be rich enough to afford everything that’ll make me live a good life, in whatever ways, manner, and shape my life demands.

I will acquire enough power over my circumstances that they cannot reduce me to a life I do not recognise as worthy.

So, I repeat, I will never be poor. And I will never be because I’ve seen what being poor looks like.