Poverty came knocking, it stared us in our face and whispered to us things we didn’t understand. we thought it was hungry and homeless so we let it in.
it dealt with us, made us walk miles in search of work
it exchanged the peacefulness of our home into a place filled with tears and regrets.
it made us have to keep watch several nights under our thatched room, because our roof dripped from all angles.
it was always the first to wake up and set a dinning filled with empty plates
(it stole our meals)
it smile and celebrated when papa finally asked us to drop out of school because there was no fee.
it became mamas escort, seizing all opportunities to make her mates laugh at her.
but one day…
after papa held a secret meeting
obviously the menace wasn’t aware
maybe it went on a stroll, i cant remember
papa told us to be strong and keep on trying, he gave us a watch word “HARDWORK”
The thing poverty came back, (late of course)
but this time we confused it, we prevented it from all angles with the watchword
we proved to it we were true blacks,
not just blacks but black NIGERIANS
the menace couldn’t live anymore
it had no room, our room was repaired
it had no companion, we all went to school
mama went to the market and papa went to farm
poverty got poor
poverty got bored
and one day we discovered poverty had taken to its heels.