A famous writer that goes by the name Eli Khamarov once said, “Poverty is like punishment for a crime you did not commit”. Having wined and dined with poverty for most of my life, I can attest to the trueness of his words. The childhood of the average human ought to be filled with a lot of pleasant and happy memories that would put a smile on one’s face when those memories are stirred up in our thoughts. Certainly, there would be bad times to remember from our childhood days, but being a child should mean innocence and a high level of immunity to things that would give normal adults headaches and sleepless nights. Therefore, the good memories of a child are expected to outweigh the bad ones.
My childhood days were some of the darkest of the days I have lived and it is all thanks to poverty. The euphoria of being a child was taken from me and was replaced by dread. Happiness, joy, and laughter were luxuries I could not risk to afford as a child because deep down within me I knew it would only last for a short while and be replaced by sadness, tears, and hopelessness.
I vividly remember those days when I had only one pair of trousers to wear on Sundays when going to church. It was a brown tattered trouser and I would wear it to the church on several consecutive Sundays. I could not join other kids when playing because I was always scared someone would make jest of my clothes and I would become a prey for the bullies. Instead, I would keep to myself and seclude myself from the happy crowd. That was the safest way to make sure my dose of sadness does not increase for the day.
My academic life was also not spared from the unforgiving claws of poverty. It grabbed the bright future I had in my academic performance and gave it a scar it would never heal from. It was always hard to concentrate in class on days I attended school without breakfast. My body would surely be present at the class but my mind would be on a voyage to search for possible answers on whether the conditions at home would be favourable or not when I returned home.
As a child, I preferred to live my life in a world of fantasies created in my imaginations. In there, I could be whoever I want and have everything I could ever want. Reality is always a second option to fantasy when one is under the influence of not having enough to foster one’s personal needs.
Before poverty would have any other effect on an individual, it would alter the psychological balance of that individual. The stigmatization that accompanies it is so unhealthy that it twists one’s perception of life and spawns problems like lower school achievement, cognitive and behavioural altercation, depressive and anxiety disorders, psychiatric disorder, psychological distress, and suicide.
According to the statistical research carried out by psychiatric times, findings reveal that poverty leads to mental health and developmental problems that in turn prevents individuals and families from leaving poverty, creating a vicious, intergenerational cycle of poverty and poor health. The evidence is strong for a casual relationship between poverty and mental health.
Poverty crushes hopes, obliterates the possibilities of joy in one’s life, it shatters confidence, it wreaks havoc on lives worse than narcotic does, and above all, it makes one anticipate the morrow with dread.
Poverty is a lethal disease. The weak easily perish under its influence, the strong? it is just a matter of when.
Bio:
Dada Abiodun is a recent National Diploma graduate of the Federal Polytechnic of Ilaro where he studied Architecture. He is currently aspiring to further his studies in Architecture in the prestigious Obafemi Awolowo University. He was born on January 3, 1998. He is a native of Ogun State. He is a passionate lover of art and enjoys spending his leisure doing fun activities like drawing, singing, playing board games, and reading books.
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