My name is John, I am thirteen, and I live with my family in one of the ghetto neighbourhoods in Lagos. As I write this letter, my hands are trembling, not because I'm scared or sick, but because I'm extremely hungry.

I am the third of 5 children, the first 3 boys, and the last 2 girls. My father works as a cleaner with a ministry of the federal government, while my mother sells recharge cards on a road close to our house every evening. My family lives in a one-room apartment that gets filled with water when it rains heavily. There's only one toilet in my compound, and it is shared by 10 families. It is unsanitary and stinks to high heaven.

Although I'm thirteen I look like I'm nine. My science teacher says I'm experiencing stunted growth due to malnutrition. For the first half of every month we eat twice a day. For the last half we eat once a day. I attend a public primary school, and even though I don't pay any fees, I still cannot afford new textbooks, uniforms or school bag. Each of my textbooks is missing several pages, my uniform is tattered, and my school bag has seen better days. There were all handed down to me by my immediate older brother who had them handed down to him by my oldest brother. I'll be going to secondary school next year, and when my peers will be wearing new uniforms, shoes and bags during the first day of school, I will be wearing - as my mother has informed me - my immediate older brother's worn out uniform, shoes and bag.

When I was younger I had two enemies: the government and witches. My father blamed the government for not paying him enough money despite working hard for almost 25 years. My mother blamed witches for hindering her progress and making her family suffer. My parents made sure my siblings and I understood that the government and witches - rather than they - were responsible for our family's inability to buy new clothes and shoes, live in a decent apartment, and afford good food in sufficient quantities. Many years have come and gone but my father and mother still indulge in their favourite pastimes. My father still curses government officials when he sees them on television, and my mother still attends deliverance crusades, and casts and binds witches and their agents every night.

I, and some of my siblings, no longer resent the government and witches. We have new enemies: our parents. "What were they thinking when they were having us?" my oldest brother once asked in annoyance. "Father is a cleaner in a federal government ministry and his pay is just slightly above minimum wage, and mother is more or less a full-time housewife. How on earth did they think they could adequately take of five children?" His words sounded almost like heresy at the time, but the true picture of the situation is becoming clearer and clearer to me everyday. Why bring children into the world to suffer? Why not have just one kid you can adequately cater for instead of five that you can't take care of? From the stories they have told us, my parents were poor even before they had their first child, my oldest brother. Wealthy people bring children into this world to enjoy with them. My poor parents brought my siblings and I into this world to partake in their suffering.

My parents do not want to hear anything about family planning. When an advertisement on family planning comes up on television when my parents are watching, my mother would say something like, "It is God that takes care of children. It doesn't matter how many you have, as long as you are faithful to Him, and serve Him in truth and in spirit, He will take care of your family. Mama Afe and her husband have only Afe but they are still struggling. Mr and Mrs Nwosu have no children but they live from hand to mouth." My father would say that family planning is a ploy by some 'powerful people' to keep the population of Christians in Nigeria in check. What hurts me the most is that there are men and women in my neighbourhood who think exactly like my parents, and their families are exactly like mine: poor and wretched. How can they not see that they are completely wrong?

My mother is currently pregnant with her sixth child, and no, my father didn't get a better job or a pay rise, in case you were wondering. That means less resources for my siblings and I. I already harbour a lot of hatred for that unborn child. Isn't it terrible that I see my unborn brother or sister as competition? Well, it's almost certain that I have no future to look forward to, so I plan on approaching brother Toheeb, one of the few young men who are doing well in my neighbourhood, and begging him to teach me Yahoo Yahoo. Or should I join the children arm of the local cult group? Members wield enormous power and influence around here. A member could approach you on the streets in broad daylight and take your valuables, and you dare not resist if you have any regard for your safety.

It is getting dark so I need to end this letter. But before dropping my pen, I want to beg you in the name of anything you hold sacred. Please do not have more children than you can adequately cater for.

Hmm.....deep words.

All I know is that a starving 13 year old did not write this.