You ask me, what is poverty? Listen to me. Here I am, dirty,
smelly, and with no "proper" underwear on and with the stench of my
rotting teeth near you. I will tell you. Listen to me. Listen without pity. I
cannot use your pity. Listen with understanding. Put yourself in my dirty, worn
out, ill-fitting shoes, and hear me.
Poverty is getting up every morning from a dirt- and
illness-stained mattress. The sheets have long since been used for diapers.
Poverty is living in a smell that never leaves. This is a smell of urine, sour
milk, and spoiling food sometimes joined with the strong smell of long-cooked
onions. Onions are cheap. If you have smelled this smell, you did not know how
it came. It is the smell of the outdoor privy. It is the smell of young
children who cannot walk the long dark way in the night. It is the smell of the
mattresses where years of "accidents" have happened. It is the smell
of the milk which has gone sour because the refrigerator long has not worked,
and it costs money to get it fixed. It is the smell of rotting garbage. I could
bury it, but where is the shovel? Shovels cost money.
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