@fcmb_help Dear FCMB, could you please explain to me the meaning and season of this debit on my account with the narration ; "Authentication Code outstanding Charges"
Thanks.
I’m not a hypocrite, and I’m not here to play politics. I’m just a man looking at the wreckage of his life over the last three years and asking: Where did we go wrong?
They promised us progress, but all I have tasted is a masterclass in suffering.
Look at the math, it doesn't lie. I used to buy fuel at ₦250 a litre. With just ₦3,000, I could feed my V6 engine, drive out to my farm, get the work done, and make it back home. Today? That same litre of petrol is ₦1,332. Yet, the market is frozen in time. A kilogram of live pig used to sell for ₦1,600 to ₦1,800. Three years of hyperinflation later, it’s still hovering at a pathetic ₦1,500 to ₦2,000.
The cost of producing has skyrocketed, but the value of my sweat has been cut to pieces.
And it’s not just my pockets they emptied; they took my peace of mind too. I used to ride my bike home from the farm at 9:00 PM, getting back to my family by 10 or 11 o'clock. Safe. Unbothered. Today? They no born me well to try that. Fear has locked us inside before the sun even goes down.
The ultimate mockery of it all? Look at my wall. I didn't sit around waiting for handouts. I did everything right. I graduated with a Second Class Upper, and I went back to get a Master of Science in Food and Sustainable Agriculture. I am literally trained to help feed this nation. But job? Don't make me laugh. There is absolutely nothing.
This isn’t PR. This isn’t a smear campaign. These are the bleeding facts of my everyday life.
The worst part isn’t even the hardship; it’s the coldness of it all. No sympathy. No accountability. We are drowning, and everyone is too busy defending the rubbish that is destroying us.
I am exhausted. I am broken. I am completely done.
I’m not a hypocrite, and I’m not here to play politics. I’m just a man looking at the wreckage of his life over the last three years and asking: Where did we go wrong?
They promised us progress, but all I have tasted is a masterclass in suffering.
Look at the math, it doesn't lie. I used to buy fuel at ₦250 a litre. With just ₦3,000, I could feed my V6 engine, drive out to my farm, get the work done, and make it back home. Today? That same litre of petrol is ₦1,332. Yet, the market is frozen in time. A kilogram of live pig used to sell for ₦1,600 to ₦1,800. Three years of hyperinflation later, it’s still hovering at a pathetic ₦1,500 to ₦2,000.
The cost of producing has skyrocketed, but the value of my sweat has been cut to pieces.
And it’s not just my pockets they emptied; they took my peace of mind too. I used to ride my bike home from the farm at 9:00 PM, getting back to my family by 10 or 11 o'clock. Safe. Unbothered. Today? They no born me well to try that. Fear has locked us inside before the sun even goes down.
The ultimate mockery of it all? Look at my wall. I didn't sit around waiting for handouts. I did everything right. I graduated with a Second Class Upper, and I went back to get a Master of Science in Food and Sustainable Agriculture. I am literally trained to help feed this nation. But job? Don't make me laugh. There is absolutely nothing.
This isn’t PR. This isn’t a smear campaign. These are the bleeding facts of my everyday life.
The worst part isn’t even the hardship; it’s the coldness of it all. No sympathy. No accountability. We are drowning, and everyone is too busy defending the rubbish that is destroying us.
I am exhausted. I am broken. I am completely done.