A life of want

Life in Nigeria was a never-ending struggle. My name is soma,and I was just 16, but the harsh realities of our country had already taken its toll on me.

My father, Mr. Johnson, was a successful businessman, but his wealth came with a price. He was notoriously stingy, and his obsession with money had turned our home into a battleground. My mother, Mrs. Johnson, worked tirelessly for him, managing his businesses, yet he paid her nothing. The only compensation she received was his constant shouts and criticisms.

I remembered the countless times I watched my mother break down in tears, exhausted from working from dawn till dusk, only to be berated by my father for not doing enough. It was as if he had forgotten that she was his wife, not just an employee.

My siblings and I suffered too. We had to provide our own school fees, we worked to stupor for our father but even then, our basic needs were neglected. No money for textbooks, uniforms, or even transportation. My father's excuse was always the same: "There's no money."

But there was money. Plenty of it. It was just reserved for his lavish spending on unnecessary things.

Nigeria's economy was in shambles. Jobs were scarce, and opportunities dwindled daily. My parents' generation had seen better days, but for us, the youth, the future looked bleak.

Prices kept rising, and the value of our currency plummeted. My mother would often cry, wondering how we would survive. "How will we afford food, rent, and school fees?" she'd ask.

One day, I approached my father, hoping to appeal to whatever humanity was left in him. "Dad, please, can't you help us out? We're struggling."

He looked at me, his eyes cold and unyielding. "You want money? Work for it. That's how I made mine."

I felt a lump form in my throat. "But, Dad, there are no jobs."

He shrugged. "That's not my problem."

I realized then that my father's stinginess wasn't just about money; it was about love, care, and compassion. He had lost sight of what truly mattered.

As I lay in bed that night, I couldn't help but wonder: Would things ever change? Would Nigeria's fortunes turn around? Would my father's heart soften?

For now, I could only hold on to hope, a fragile thread that kept me going.