Riches we stand...poverty we divide

By Fatimah Bakare-Dickson
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Fatima Bakare-Dickson
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This morning I woke up to the news of wedding of the year. It will cost nothing less than a 100millon. Don't ask me who, where and when...some eyes are already popping.

I love happy endings, especially if it is a love story. The two love birds met in a University in the USA. The in-laws are business moguls. Their net-worth is over 5billion, both are into shipping and hospitality business. It is an international age-long and family international business.

This wedding is interfaith and it is also inter-tribe, means certainly a clash of cultures with ethnocentric bearing you may say.

I am so lucky to have been selected to go shop with the bride. I am eligible for 1st class free travel to the fashion capital of the world, free meal and stipends. Kai, how do we say it in these parts--God punish devil!

I was still rejoicing over my soon to embark upon escort duties, suddenly I heard neighbors whispering never! Not in this world will it happen.

I quietly listened, I needed to be attentive in case of a mishap had happened or may happen that I wasn't aware of.

Rhoda is one of the descent young girls I know in my neighborhood, she is a final year student in the University, studying Public Administration. I have always seen her and Abdul together. I don't question two adults that know the implications of lovemaking.

Abdul was two years ahead of her in the University, they were inseparable while he was in school. After Youth Service, Abdul got a job as a teller in a bank and wants to settle down.

The only one he has truly loved is Rhoda, he came to our precious Ghetto to ask for the hand of Rhoda in marriage.

Everyone started grumbling, not in this world will she marry a Muslim. Can't you see, they came to make trouble with us, they burn our houses and kill our children.

The only response Abdul has to all the drama is "I have never killed anyone in my life ". "I know you are a good man Abdul, this is a difficult situation. But please don't drink 'snipper'." I whispered.

A Muslim gave me a free international escort ticket to the fashion capital of the world, then another Muslim in our beloved ghetto begging for a wife.. Poverty is a bastard, of both cash and intellect. Can Rhoda's parents say no to the likes of Dangote, and don't worry I have a CD on types of Muslims, and the type that Dangote is...

Abdul looked at Rhodas parents with tears dropping down his cheeks and sobbing like an infant, "I have loved your daughter with my life, my offence is where I come from and the God that I worship. No one bargained for it but you find yourself in it. My God will justify me", then he left.

I was astonished by his actions, I do not understand what he meant by justification, but it was a strong statement.

This makes me wonder, are we united by riches? Or divided by poverty. Sometimes I feel both, the rich neighborhood in all the 36 states of the federation has Muslims and Christians, a lot of Muhammed that rarely observe the 5 daily prayers , plenty James that do not own Bibles talk-less of going to church.

I join my faith with Rhoda's mother, we believe she will get a better and God fearing man, but how Abdul isn't a better man, or god fearing is story for the gods. But I hope she won't cheat on the innocent man better with Abdul. In fact with what I am seeing she will do it.

So Paris, here I come, yours the executive errand bae...