The Forbidden Contrast

By Hadiya Aliyu Tilde

She is out there. She has no home to return to, yet she has a family. Her half- bare feet walk miles and miles each day. She leads the donkeys, back the child and carry the load. She has a large family to worry about. She never knows what it feels like to sit at home with her family during weekends. She has never eaten a meal at a restaurant or on a dining table. She doesn't have the privilege to think about wearing good shoes or designer clothes. All she cares about is surviving through today and living through tomorrow. She works all year round -under the scorching sun, in the rain and during the cold winter. Each day hardly differs from the other. She has never experienced any kind of luxury. That's what I call lower class.

However, by contrast, some are out there. They have enough to last them a thousand years. They sleep on king-size beds under the cool breeze of their air conditioners. Their children attend the best schools within or outside the country. Their wives wear latest designers that cost thousands of dollars. They have their breakfast served on a grand table at home, lunch at an exquisite eatery, dinner at a colleague's place, discussing the numerous ways to exploit and suck life out of the poor. They spend their weekends and holidays abroad, their weekdays in their offices, looting more and more money. All they ever know is "more". Now, that's what I call the upper class.

What a sharp contrast!

This is happening 55 years after Nigeria got independent. Since 1960, we celebrate the first day of October as our "Independence Day". The truth is, we are celebrating an empty freedom. The standard of living of the majority poor has not experienced any improvement even after Nigeria gained its independence. They still work on their farms and they still wear their ragged and ripped clothes. The government does not care. The only difference is that things are becoming worse. It seems there are so many people out there that need to be set free.

What we hardly notice is that "they" got there by the sweat of people like her who sacrificed - and they will keep on sacrificing - a lot for the comfort of the upperclass. They took away all she is supposed to have; yet, they are after the little (more of nothing) she has. What they forget is that there is no bonus in life. We must all account for every cent we own and every cent we spend.

Think of the future. At this rate, the children and grandchildren of the pitiful woman in this picture may never know what it feels like to be within the four walls of a classroom. The nomadic schools lying all about the country will serve them no good - no thanks to the looting of school funds by the "upperclass" and their cronies. They will grow up to inherit the cattle of their parents and travel around the country all year round. Their feet will become sore, their families larger, their problems bigger and their lives harder. It goes on and on for generations until someone does something about it.

For the "upperclass" children, they will get the best of formal education. Their parents will buy them a way all through school and they will be trained to loot public funds. They will grow up to inherit their parents' wealth and gather more of the ill-gotten one. They will have a magnificent wedding and own homes both within and outside the country. And like their parents, they will only dream of more, and more. This, too, will go on for generations and generations.

"And thou wilt find them greediest of mankind for life and (greedier) than the idolators. (Each) one of them would like to be allowed to live for a thousand years. And to live (a thousand years) would by no means remove him from the doom. Allah is the seer of what they do." -Qur'an 2:96.

That is the forbidden contrast.

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My Comment:

I was busy at a condolence sitting today. So I asked my daughter, Hadiya, to write, on my behalf, a note on the picture I posted here yesterday as some readers requested me to do. Above is what occurred to the mind of the 15 year old girl. She brought it to me without a title and I chose to call it the Forbidden Contrast.

Hadiya is not online, hence my choice to post it here. Her Dad, Jaafar Jaafar, has earlier published her first essay on his page some weeks ago.