When I was seven, eight (or was it nine?),
A hundred naira could buy ten loaves of bread.
Even as a teenager, I could get bread for that amount.
But now, twice that sum won’t buy a child a loaf.

Mother used to get a kilogramme of cooking gas for two N200 naira,
But today, that amount won’t even get her anything.
A piece of ‘pure’ water used to be N5.
And yes, it used to come in slightly bigger packs.
But today, N20 can’t even quench your thirst.

Mother called last night. She went to the market in the morning.
She said she had to draw a scale of preference when she compared the prices of fresh fish and pọnmọ. Buying meat was even out of the equation.
When I was in school, N200 could get me a big piece of frozen herring. But today, you can’t even get the bones for that amount.

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I once bought a piece of egg for N20. I’m not talking about the 1990s. This was just about a decade ago.
But today, N100 can’t even get you an egg’s yolk.
At some point, you could flex and brag with N5000.
Today, that amount can’t even cover your weekly fare if you stay in Lagos.

You see, even during the good old days, poverty struck people across the face.
Many mouths couldn’t afford the N20 egg because, you know, all fingers aren’t equal.
So families cut their coats according to their clothes.
The price of rice wasn’t that bad in those days. Today, we buy foodstuffs with a heavy groan.
Even garri, the favourite of the poor, is now a luxury for many.

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For how long are we going to trim our needs just to fit the rough reality our rulers made for us?
For how long are we going to adjust to the different shades of suffering they throw our way?
Aren’t we tired of this unending cycle of shame?
What if we see today’s hell as halcyon days tomorrow?
What if tomorrow’s famine makes us crave the suffering that whipped our bellies yesterday?