CLAWS OF POVERTY
Poverty is often spoken of in numbers—statistics, percentages, and economic indicators. But behind these numbers lies a reality that is far more painful, and more enduring than any chart or graph could ever convey. The claws of poverty go deeper than you can imagine. It is not just about sleeping on an empty stomach, walking with torn clothes, or rain pouring into your house as you try to sleep. It is not just about staying home because you cannot afford school fees. Poverty digs deeper than this. It stretches you to limits you could never have imagined, reshaping your sense of self, your relationships, and your dreams.
To live in poverty is to wake up each day with a weight on your chest—a heaviness that does not lift with the rising of the sun. Hunger is not just a physical sensation; it is a constant companion, eating at your insides and clouding your thoughts. When you have not eaten, it is hard to focus in school, to play with friends, or to even smile. The world becomes smaller, your options fewer. Every decision is coloured by scarcity: Should I spend the little money I have on food, or save it for school supplies? Should I walk the long distance to fetch water, or stay home to help my siblings? These are not choices; they are survival strategies.
Clothing, too, becomes a symbol of your struggle. Torn shirts and worn-out shoes are not just uncomfortable—they are a mark, a visible sign to the world that you are different, that you do not belong. Children can be cruel, and the sting of their words can last longer than the pain of bare feet on hot ground. Trust me, I went to school barefoot at some point in my life - first, to fit in, and then, because I had no choice. It is what life had dealt me at that point in my life. You learn to shrink, to make yourself small, to avoid drawing attention. You become a master at hiding your needs, your desires, and sometimes even your hope.
The home, which should be a place of safety and comfort, becomes another battleground. When the rain pours in through the roof at night, you curl up and try to find a dry spot, listening to the water drip and the wind howl. You wonder if the roof will hold, if the walls will stand. You worry about your siblings, or family you have remaining, and what tomorrow will bring. Sleep is interrupted by the cold and the fear that things will never get better.
Education, often hailed as the key to escaping poverty, can feel like a distant dream. School fees, uniforms, books, and supplies—all are barriers that stand between you and the classroom. When you are forced to stay home, you watch as other children walk to school, their laughter, a heartbreaking reminder that you are different. You feel left behind, forgotten by a world that seems to move on without you. The knowledge that education could change your life only makes the pain even sharper.
But poverty’s claws do not stop at the physical. They reach into your mind, your heart, and your spirit. They breed shame, self-doubt, low self-esteem, and a sense of unworthiness. You begin to believe that you are less than others, that you do not deserve happiness or success. This type of poverty is perhaps the most damaging of all, for it can persist even when circumstances improve. It takes root in your soul, constantly reminding you that you will never be enough.
Relationships are strained under the weight of poverty. Parents, desperate to provide, may become distant or irritable. Siblings may fight over scraps of food or small comforts. The stress of daily survival can take away even the strongest bonds. Yet, in the midst of this struggle, there is also resilience. Families find ways to support one another, to share what little they have, to laugh in the face of adversity. There is a fierce love that grows in hardship, a determination to keep going, no matter what.
Poverty limits your vision of the future. When every day is a struggle, it is hard to dream. Ambitions are set aside in favour of immediate needs. You learn not to hope for too much, not to reach too high, for fear of disappointment. The world feels closed off, opportunities reserved for others. Yet, even in the darkest moments, a spark remains—a stubborn belief that things can change, holding on to a promise, that you can break free from the claws that hold you.
The psychological effect of poverty is immense. Anxiety becomes a constant companion, as you worry about where the next meal will come from, whether you will be able to stay in school, or if you will have a place to sleep. Depression can set in, making it hard to find joy in anything. The stigmatisation that comes with poverty can lead to isolation, as you withdraw from friends and community out of shame or embarrassment.
Yet, despite all of this, there is hope. The human spirit is remarkably resilient. Even in the most harsh conditions, people find ways to survive, to adapt, and to support one another. Communities come together to share resources, to celebrate small victories, and to lift each other up. Acts of kindness—a shared meal, a donated uniform, a word of encouragement—can make all the difference.
Breaking free from poverty is not easy. It requires more than just financial assistance; it demands systemic change, access to education, healthcare, and opportunities. It requires a shift in how society views and treats those who are struggling. It calls for compassion, understanding, and a commitment to justice.
To truly understand poverty, one must look beyond the surface. It is not just about material deprivation, but about the erosion of dignity, the narrowing of possibilities, and the daily battle to maintain hope. The claws of poverty are deep and vicious, but they are not unbreakable. With support, opportunity, and determination, it is possible to loosen their grip and reclaim a life of possibility and purpose.
Let us remember that behind every statistic is a story, behind every number a name, and behind every name a human. Let us see the humanity in those who struggle, and work together to build a world where no one is held captive by the claws of poverty.