I Had Only Three Native Wears: The Poverty Lessons That Shaped Me

Growing up in the late 1980s, I owned just three native wears and rotated them to church every Sunday. Everyone knew them. At home, my mother sometimes made garri mixed with salt and palm oil, moulding portions with her bare hands for my siblings and me. My parents were hardworking. My father was a small building contractor, block maker and farmer, while my mother sold drinks and kerosene. Yet there were moments when they could not meet basic needs. My brother once trekked home from the University of Ibadan because my father could not find ₦30. Another needed ₦3 for graduation clothes, and a neighbour came to his rescue. I later understood that poverty was not always caused by laziness or poor character. My father was honest and hardworking, but money was often missing at the exact moment it mattered. His own dream of studying building in the UK also ended because there was no sponsor. Those experiences made me promise that my children would not inherit my poverty. But years later, unexpected money from abroad brought a different kind of trouble that nearly cost me my business, savings and life. Part 2 is coming next.

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