If Nigeria were to be a man, he would live in a one room wooden ramshackle in Gbondu waterfront in Port Harcourt, with no toilet, no ventilation, in a mud-filled and garbage littered pedestals that can not take even bicycle. Yet he would have a satellite dish hanging over his roof of rusty metal sheets and a hummer jeep parked out on the streets. A weird mixture of poverty and affluence is what you see all around you, under the bridge at Ojuelegba, you see families so poor even beggars call them poor. They can neither feed nor afford the rent of a single room even in the slums of Ajegunle. Their children, some of school age, roam the streets begging for alms in the heavy traffic, running after flashy luxury cars, often wound-up and driven by people living in high-brew areas such as Ikoyi and Lekki. This unhealthy cacophony of extreme poverty and flamboyance in our towns and cities all around the country is infuriating at the least, and can be attribut...
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