RICH KIDS

There was something about them, the rich kids, there was something about them that made them stand out from the rest of us. The way they walked, talked, and even ate was different. They possess a gracious beauty, one that keeps you staring at them, but you do not need to worry about getting caught because they are used to stares and stolen glances. When they walk into a room you can feel the air leave your lungs and gravitate towards them. Even nature recognizes them. They always look divine, like something out of a fantasy.

Their aura is always calm but overwhelming. You will find yourself shifting in your seat. Their voice gentle but demanding. You would always want to listen. Their gait is gracious and with purpose. Feels like they’re floating. Their skin is soft and luminous, and the light reflects on it. It didn’t seem fair for them to exist, yet they did.

I liked them. I wanted to be like them. I wanted to be them.

I wasn’t born rich, comfortable maybe but not rich. But in a country like Nigeria where the economy only moves downwards, it’s easy to move from comfortable to poor. I did not know we had gotten to that point, till I started getting called out of class for owing fees. Being called out was not what made me realize my family’s plummeting financial situation, it was how I was treated when being called out that did.

Surprised?

Well here is the thing, both the rich and the poor owe. So I was getting called out of class with my rich classmates for owing fees. But perceived wealth is such a game changer because you see others making excuses for you. When my rich classmates get called out, you see the shock in their eyes like they had no idea the fees hadn’t been paid. Like they hadn’t just reminded their parents that morning of their unpaid fees. Then, you hear the principal say with utmost concern,

“ Why haven’t your parents paid? seems your parent forgot. Are you sure you gave them the booklet that contains the cost of your fees for the term? Go back to your class, I will call your mom, this is unlike her”.

However, raised voices and harsh tones were reserved for the poor kids. They are reminded of how negligent their parents are and how they have refused to pay fees but would want their kids to be sitting in class with other children whose parents comply with fees. How selfish of them! How wicked they must be! Trying to reap where they did not sow!

Even in wrong, the rich were respected.

The world of the rich felt like glass. It sparkles as you watch through the thin veil, as they live lives so out of touch, so fabulous and endlessly exciting. But unlike glass, you couldn’t easily break into it. So, my desperate desire to break into the world of the rich and snag an experience or two saw a hostile pushback.

Up until now, I had no idea the rich were snubs, protecting the bubble from outsiders. Exclusivity is their religion. So whatever Nollywood taught you about the rich boy falling in love with the poor girl from the village, is nothing but fictional tales to keep the poor thinking and believing they could be a part of that world. But the rich know they can’t because reality is cruel and Cinderella isn’t real.

This is why the rich attracted so much envy masked in hatred.

Eat the rich

but keep their money.

People hated them so much yet worked so hard to be them. To have what they have, to get their view, to travel like them, and to live like them.

I started behaving like the rich kids I saw. At least the behavior I noticed. Gentle but firm when talking to people. With a voice so soft you wouldn’t believe how high I could scream and eyes so cold and hooded you will think I’m half asleep. Snubby and rude when commoners came close even though those commoners were within my social class. But when you are poor and fighting for your life, you can only be gentle for so long. Your temper will always jump out as people get on your nerves. The conductor of the Danfo bus does not respond with a gentle tone. When he stretches his hand over your head to give the woman sitting behind you and eating an egg roll her change, the smell that moves from his armpit forces its way into your nostrils and threatens to block your lungs and choke you to death. This could drive you crazy and make you wonder if there is a law prohibiting them from touching soap. You have no reason to be cool when fighting for 100 naira change because you have calculated your transportation for the week and 100 naira can scatter your math. Life has not been fair to you so you’re sitting there, trying to be gentle and calm while your patience runs thin.

I wonder how they do it. Being calm that is. Because the snobby and rude part came easy but the calmness felt foreign. It’s a wonder I still have friends. But when your life has been filled with roses, everything will smell sweet.

I started eating where they ate. When I was young it was KFC. It was new to the country, so the rich teenagers were always there, eating up the crispy chicken and burgers. Drinking Pepsi and speaking in low tones with their friends. They were always so happy. Something was always funny. They were not old enough to drive so their drivers were always waiting outside with the car. Sometimes their estate wasn’t far so they bought a bucket of KFC chicken and went back home.

I started going to KFC, saving my allowance for an entire month to buy a crispy chicken and burger, sitting there quietly, eating slowly, hoping they would see me, the rich kids, I hoped they would see me and maybe want to talk to me, maybe want to be my friend. But I ate slowly and waited in vain. Filled with anticipation and expectation and had no time to savor the delicious taste of the fried chicken. I did this often and always went home sad. It made me hate my life more. It made me hate my mother’s meals that were served with no chicken. Just beef cut into tiny pieces so my siblings and I could all have a piece. Pathetic.

Those rich kids would turn their noses up in disgust if they ever saw my sister and I fighting for who would take the biggest piece of meat. I always had to remind her that I am older by a year, seven months, and 2 days and I would break her head if she dared to pick meat before me.

When I went to university, I started dressing like them. They always looked simple but elegant. Their pieces were always from luxurious brands but never too flashy. Contrary to popular belief, the rich never wore all the Gucci at the same time. You could tell they were wealthy even in their flip-flops. They were a force to rekcon with.

So, I started buying replicas of their outfits. I spent my textbook money on outfits, shoes, and bags that looked like what the rich would buy. Wanted to look like them so they could think I was one of them and just let me into their world. I hung out where I always saw them in school. I sat among them, laughed at every joke, and offered to be part of study groups and parties. Wasted effort if you ask me because I was turned to their little errand girl, doing their assignments while my grades suffered.

I decided to put my real desires on hold till I finished university. If I could not get into the world of the rich through socialization, maybe I could work my way up there.

Ah, that must sound dignified to you, but that’s ridiculous. How long do you want to work to get rich? How many years? I didn’t have that time and I didn’t have the patience but I had to convince myself I could work my way up the pyramid just so I could finish school with good grades. I might not want to be poor, but like other poor children, I did not want to disgrace my parents with bad grades. If they can’t brag about money, let them brag about smart kids.

I got a job not long after my NYSC year, and I started working in a bank. Picking this industry was a strategy as I knew that I would come in contact with the high and mighty in the banking hall. I did.

For the first time In my life, my ambition felt real and closer to my grasp.

I was a tigress there. Always ready to snag up anyone that smelt like money. My teenage years had taught me enough. I spent my nights watching YouTube videos on how to look rich and attract the rich. You’ll be surprised how many videos like that exist. I spent my days practicing all I had learned. I was smiling and speaking with a gentle tone, and I was always dressed impeccably well. I handled accounts so well that being given the big ones to handle came easy. If you’re reading this, I’d like to let you know that the way to the top is crooked and rough and if you aren’t tough enough, you’ll fall hard on your back.

I felt like I was getting there. Like I was finally becoming a part of their world or so I thought.

“Their world is like glass, easy to see through but unlike glass, hard to break in”

Even with my little acquired riches, I didn’t look like them. Flawless. They didn’t work as hard as I did. They didn’t know the hardship I was familiar with. They spent their money on themselves while I sent my money home to my poor family. They didn’t invite me to their parties, because I was busy working so hard to be like them I didn’t have the time to be them. They all knew each other, but they didn’t know me. I still felt like an outsider in their world. I still felt like I was looking in through the glass and not knowing how to get in.

I couldn’t relate to their world, and mine seemed so foreign to them. My pretense was so easy to spot and they would always turn their noses up at it. A try hard, I was.

I realized It wasn’t just about the money, there was a lifestyle and status to live up to. While we would like to believe it is something you could attain, I would say it is better to be born into it.