Erasing poverty a pipe dream
Politicians love beating the poverty drum, promising policies addressing the “poorest of the poor”. By now we know those so-called stratagems are unsustainable.
The irony is that although the poor represent the majority of voters who keep the government afloat, they remain poor. Even social grants are fraught with corruption, and they only scratch the surface of a dire need among millions of jobless rurals. Their efficacy can be compared with an activist who wages war on poverty by bombing soup kitchens.
During the witching hour when my imagination takes flight, as opposed to the rest of the day when I slink back to the slow lane, this thought strikes me: What would a world be like without the spectre of poverty?
I’m so excited I try sharing the idea with my Heidi recuperating from pneumonia. She tells me to shush and go back to sleep, blaming my rambling on the pork roast we had for supper. (There are still those who believe eating “unclean” hog at night brings on hallucinatory dreams).
In mitigation, I’m not hallucinating, but clearly imagine a world without a single poor person. I figure full bellies mean there’s money, and money means jobs, jobs mean a sound economy and a sound economy means a healthy Treasury and a healthy Treasury means good governance and good governance equals a happy electorate. Paradise personified.
But back to the present. The United Nations Food and Agriculture Organisation estimates about 795 million people of the 7.3 billion people in the world, or one in nine, are suffering from chronic undernourishment. Almost all the hungry people, 780 million, live in developing countries.
Back to my imaginings. The 780 million people freed from poverty hold down good jobs and enjoy a proverbial place in the sun. Incidence of crime plunges exponentially with good people taking control of their homes and streets and not tolerating baddies. Politicians can no longer hoodwink the poor. Bang goes lucrative tithing and ignorant voters.
With these thoughts I become so worked up, I slap Heidi on an exposed shoulder, shouting, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She murmurs, “No more meat for you.”
She’s right. I should wage my own war on poverty by donating my clean cuts to soup kitchens.