Money is the Remedy

 

          MONEY IS THE REMEDY

By Calson Mugodo

            I am just five moons shy of my 22nd birthday. The societal law has it that I  am a grown-up man, ready to take up responsibilities even when I don't think so. For this reason, I need money so badly. I need it urgently to fulfil the oath I took to obey the societal law, even if it wasn't willful. I need some coins to abide by the covenant engraved by a hot iron rod on my heart. Oh! It sucks to be an African man.

           A man has the right to cry, so says my conscience, " men don't cry" this is a yoke I live to carry daily. Now I am perplexed about which one to abide by. I believe pain is a common denominator to all humans, including men, and crying is one of the most immediate responses. But money is the greatest of all. It soothes the ineffable mysteries of the soul. It calms the mind and yields emotional relief.

          It is so sad that my society is oblivious to this and reprobates men from even portraying a shiny eyeball. It's shameful. It is illegal. It is weak and weird for men to cry. This is a menace to men's existence.

            I remember a scene dating back to eighteen years earlier. In that sketchy hut of ours sat my father on a three-legged stool, his left hand on his cheek supporting his baldy head while staring at the dimming paraffin lamp as the dusk was approaching ruthlessly. What could he be thinking of? Money! , Of course, you are right. People with money don't live in huts but rather in luxurious mansions.                                                                                                                                                                       My father could not cater to the needs of his nuclear family, his wife and his two skinny children due to lack of money. It made him feel like a failure, a worthless and useless being. This triggered trauma and depression, making him think of alcohol as a solution. I think this was wrong. Money was the appropriate remedy to this calamity. Alcoholism didn't help either; instead, it did worsen the situation. Poverty knew him by his three names.

            Indeed, Mark Twain, a phenomenal philosopher, was right when he said, "lack of money is the root of all evil."  People steal due to lack of money and kill for the same reason. Many have plundered their souls are corruption and an insatiable desire for money. I have always known that coming of age would mean providing for my family and removing them from the yoke of poverty.

 Our financial situation at home did not allow me to join a prestigious school. We used to sit on plastic chairs as we wrote with books on our thighs, 120 students in one class since this was the only school my father could take me to. It was a dilapidated place and dehumanizing, but it was what father could afford. Anyone with a few coins could have offered to improve our infrastructure and create a conducive environment for learning. But we lived in the poorest parts of the hood.

I managed to qualify for university, which is when the curse of poverty became fully fledged in our household. Indeed Sidney Sheldon was right, "being poor is only romantic in books". I do not need to read books to tell the story of how excruciating poverty is. I envy my campus classmates who can afford three meals daily and flashy wardrobes. I can barely afford a change of clothes. When paul in  2Thessalonians 3:10 tells people not to eat without work, I assume he didn't know studying counted as work.

           Sometimes you may be in a position to give advice or contribute to specific topics while with people. Still, you shy away from it because you are poor. Oh! Mighty king Solomon of Israel, were you referring to me? , When you said," No one thinks of the poor as wise or pays attention to what they say "Ecclesiastes 9:16. I need some coins to turn this around.