NOTE: I am not rich, I am not from a rich home and I did not write this becasue I think that I am better than others. I just need to voice out my frustrations. These have grown in the months since I have become a mother and I am filled with, you guessed it...angst!
I am sick of all the poverty around. Snot faced kids, begging for a buck, cleaning windscreens like their life depends on it. I look at their faces and try to imagine them in a different situation. With parents that have money. Primary school education at Corona or Grange, clean clothes, less despair in their lives and in their eyes. A warm nice bed to sleep on. If only they were that, people would not cringe when they come near. I see some of these children in the rain, begging so that their mothers, fathers and siblings will have a meal. (yes, sometimes, if you look around you'll spy their parents somewhere around).
I fear for the girls the most. They lead the blind and sometimes push the lame. I wonder what other services they are made to render. I am not thinking in extremes, I understand that a lot of the men they help around have their "wicked" way with them. Girls that don't even have an inkling what puberty is because their bodies are still years away from that particular development.
Some times I feel like screaming: Lord, why do some have nothing at all? I would love to make a difference, touch lives. No matter what I do, it seems so inadequate as though I am just tossing drops of water in a bottomless bucket in a bid to fill it up. I'm not rich or anything, but I make enough.
I have a hard time collecting clothes for the needy because people are afraid that they will get jazzed by ne'er do gooders. So I have fashied and I just do my thing myself. I give my old clothes to refugees; send my baby's clothes to motherless babies, give money to beggars when I can. Yet, it seems I have done nothing. I look at pictures like these and I am saddened. I know they are far away, but I know that if I dedicate myself, I can still reach them. I know because if someone tells me that a million pounds awaits me under a malnourished baby’s crib in Niger, I will get there (hell, I will get there if its just £2,000).
The difference in standards of living in Lagos is so great, that the poor hardly get to cross the gulf. I read this story and was filled with wonder, I had never seen things that way before. Figures, as I am neither a brie eating chic nor am I a beggar on the street. I am just plain middle class. For the record, I have nothing against people spending their hard earned money the way they want, Lord knows I do. I read Gbemi's story on the Motherless baby's home and my heart sunk to my feet. I visualised that boy hitting his head continuallly on his crib, yeeech!! My friend went to a motherless baby home and saw a baby that had been found in a gutter. Apparently, she was a few hours old when her mother threw her in there. Before she was rescued, maggots had started eating her body. Her little body tells the story. Her skin looks really pockmarked. Just 2 months old, she will grow up with the tell-tale marks of her parent's abandonment. In fact, I was made to understand that visitors generally do not like to touch her, as they find her repulsive.
Enough ramblings, what to do? what to do? Any ideas?
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