<p>What comes to mind when you hear "the poor masses"? </p><p>A picture of deprivation, struggle, and empty pockets, perhaps? </p><p>But what if I told you that this narrative isn't the whole truth? </p><p>That "the poor masses" in Nigeria are, in fact, a complex paradox, a tool for governments, a goldmine for businesses, and sometimes a weapon turned against their loved ones. Intrigued? Stay with me as we peel back the layers of a story that's equal parts thought-provoking and downright hilarious.</p><p>Let’s start with the government’s love-hate relationship with the so-called poor. In every campaign season, the masses are the backbone of electoral success, herded into long lines with promises of rice, oil, and "change" that often remain elusive. Yet, beyond the ballot box, they are wielded as proof of underdevelopment, for securing international loans and grants hence the growing population of NGOs(now more or less a business but that's a topic on its own). But here's the kicker: those same "poor masses" somehow manage to sustain local economies with their relentless buying power, no matter how small it seems. They're not just surviving, they're the foundation on which businesses thrive. The roadside hawker selling puff-puff? Likely clearing more profit margins than some white-collar workers.</p><p>Now let’s shift focus to the streets of Lagos, where the ubiquitous “beggar economy” thrives. Ever stopped at a traffic light and handed out a few naira to a needy-looking beggar? Multiply that act by thousands of unsuspecting motorists, and you’ll realize that some of these street beggars coordinated like a well-oiled machine, earn more in a day than many office workers do in a month. Or the village uncle who's perpetually “broke,” yet somehow always shows up with a new agbada at family functions? These individuals are masters of leveraging emotional currency. They collect from every family member with claims of urgent needs but have a way of showing up in unexpected affluence, leaving you wondering if the real hustler is you.
</p><p>And here's where it gets darker. These "poor masses" are often unwitting weapons. The hardworking aunt who sacrifices to send money to her village? Her resources might just be used to fuel jealousy rather than gratitude, becoming ammunition in endless family feuds. The cousin who constantly borrows without repaying? A walking liability, draining every ounce of goodwill until nothing is left but regret.
</p><p>So, what's the takeaway? </p><p>It’s time to rethink statements like "I’m helping the less privileged.” Many of the so-called poor aren't truly poor, they're just better at tapping into other people’s resources. We must clarify our narratives and redefine generosity. After all, sustaining someone who refuses to sustain themselves isn’t kindness, it’s enabling and encouraging laziness at its peak. And let’s admit, sometimes the joke is on us.
</p><p>What do you think?</p><p>Like I said I'm not a talker, only a curious writer.</p><p>
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The Poor Masses
By
Godwin Erite