I have sat in African villages with children whose excitement over the simplest things would stop many people in their tracks.
Not iPads. Not branded trainers. Not designer labels. Not expensive gaming consoles.
But a second-hand pair of shoes. A football. A few pencils. School books. Socks. Chalk.
Things many homes in the West would barely notice. Things some children might roll their eyes at, dismiss, or laugh about. And yet I watched these children light up. Not performative gratitude. Genuine joy. I watched children gather around the smallest offerings as though something magical had arrived.
The most beautiful moment was seeing the children; Sharing. Smiling. No grabbing. No arguments. No entitlement. Just excitement. Community. Appreciation.
And I remember sitting quietly, watching, feeling something uncomfortable rise alongside the warmth. Because the contrast is impossible to ignore. How did we arrive in cultures where abundance so often breeds dissatisfaction? Where children surrounded by “more” can somehow feel they have “less”? Where worth becomes tied to brands, trends, and comparison rather than simple human appreciation?
This is not about romanticising poverty. Poverty is not beautiful. Need is not noble. Lack is not something to glorify. But gratitude? Joy? Human connection? The ability to find wonder in simplicity? Those are worth examining. Because perhaps wealth is not only measured by what we possess. Perhaps some forms of abundance have quietly impoverished us?.
What are we teaching children when happiness always seems one purchase away? When a perfectly functional item becomes embarrassing because it is not new enough, expensive enough, fashionable enough? I have seen children create games with almost nothing. I have also seen children with everything become restless within minutes. That should make us pause. Not to judge. But to reflect. What have we normalised? And what have we lost? What do you think creates gratitude in children—and what erodes it? Tell me below