THE nature of my work leaves me with no choice but to be in suit. Without a car, I stand by the bus-stop to board a taxi or take a bike. It has become an almost every day occurrence that someone would walk up to me to ask for money.They are either stranded or they have not had a meal that day, so their story always goes. Usually, it is the story about starving that is more frequently told. From their looks, you can almost tell that it is true.A couple of days ago, I went to an eatery from office to meet a friend. As I approached there, a boy quietly walked up to me and sat by my feet where I stood to cross the road. Looking frail as if he had been totally drained of energy, and with so much effort, he began to write with his fingers in the sand that he was hungry.Though I was moved by the sight, I quickly walked away crossing to the other side of the road. Waiting there as if for me was a middle-aged woman with two kids. She immediately walked up to me, asking that I help her as she had not had a meal that day. I took my gaze away and walked right into the eatery.I found a comfortable spot from where the air conditioner could cool me as I was already sweating in a suit and tie. Though the boy and the woman randomly flashed through my mind, I was glad they were not within my sight any longer.Just as I was settling in and enjoying the cooling in the small restaurant, a woman, well dressed, in her forties seated diagonally across to me came over to ask for 'financial assistance.' I told her that I had no extra money on me to spare and so she walked shamefully away. The kid and the two women ' I began to wonder if they really were in dire need of money or they were just scams. Intriguing was that in the span of 10 minutes or so, three persons had approached me for 'financial assistance.'It should be worrisome that many in our society find it hard to lead decent lives; I hate to know that many cannot afford the necessities of life. It is so self-evident all around us. I live in a slum where roofs leak and meals are hardly balanced. I walk in and out of my home in a suit and tie; and I see people sit by their stalls selling petty things. When they close their stalls at night, they lament how terribly low sales have been. How I wished I was a Spiderman with a hood and a cape but sadly I'm just a man in suit and tie.Circumstantially, to many of the people who run into me, I am the man stuffed with cash. A man in Ray Bans spectacles, a suit and a tie seated in an eatery but do they little realise that I am compelled to be in suit and that all I've got in my wallet are a few dirty notes. The hardest part of it all is that I myself am all seated in the eatery waiting for a friend to buy me a meal.That same afternoon at the eatery, a young man walked up to me from his seat. Little did I suspect he had noticed me and was only waiting for me to have my seat. As soon as I did, he walked over to me and began to market copies of a poorly printed book on the biographies of world leading billionaires. I promptly dismissed him but watched as he stealthily walked up to other people in the eatery to market his wares and trying not to be caught by the guards. In truth, this young man didn't look any better than the boy that had written in the sand; except that he was older and cleaner. He looked famished and fatigued. I watched as the next three people he approached turned him down harshly. I wondered for how long he had been in the eatery, I thought of how highly he would have hoped for good sales that morning.Just to live above a dollar, he bears the shame of being turned down and walks to the next person only to be turned down yet again.Daily, I see young boys and girls standing in the sun to sell things such as ''pure water'' for hours. They sometimes run endlessly after commuters, snaking dangerously through vehicles on highways, risking their lives just to make a little money to take home.Once, I saw a hawker crushed by a heavy duty truck. Despite all the stress and the risks, they still live below one dollar. I know families whose members have to work (including the children) all round the clock just to live barely above a dollar. At work, I see men whose pay packet is barely $70 (dollars) per month.With so many responsibilities on their neck ' house rent to pay, school fees to settle, housekeeping allowance to be provided etc, I wonder how they survive with barely one dollar a day.My suit deceives and so everyone believes I am the man with bales of currency notes. The security man rushes to help with the bulletproof doors and gives me a salute as I step out in the hope that the man in suit would leave a tip. The doorman at the eatery does the same, too.I find it a sad reality that more than half the people in our country live below one dollar daily. It is sadder that the statistics increases. In a country of 158 million people, more than 100 million live on less than one dollar per day. A dollar is about N160.At an annual memorial lecture in honour of Murtala Mohammed in Lagos in February, the Central Bank Governor, Lamido Sanusi, called our economy 'dysfunctional' and that unless quick measures were taken, there would be an increase in the poverty level.According to a report by Department for International Development UK, 'a stable, better governed Nigeria would rapidly reduce poverty.'I wonder in what year we will be better governed. I turn away from the government and try to see if the people can help themselves live above one dollar without the help of the government. I am not sure that my answer is in the positive.I begin to wonder how many more would join the hawking and alms-begging train when the poverty level rises. Sadly, I wonder if some would even ever see a dollar note or spend its equivalent all their lives.Olorunfemi Owoyemi is a Social Activist and Young Entrepreneur based in Lagos.
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