“Work hard and you’ll make it.”

That’s the slogan drilled into your head from childhood. Teachers repeat it. Preachers preach it. Motivational speakers chant it like gospel. It’s meant to inspire hope.

But here’s the raw truth: most of the hardest working people in the world die poor. And most of the wealthiest people remain wealthy even when they fail or underperform.

Why? Because wealth is privilege first, work second. The game is loaded before you even enter it.

Two Girls, Same Age, Different Worlds

Meet Tamburai. She’s 14, born in Gweru. She attends St Paul’s as a day scholar. Her father tries, but he often cannot afford her full school fees on time. Some terms, Tamburai misses weeks of class waiting for arrears to clear. She shares textbooks with friends, studies in the dim glow of a paraffin lamp during ZESA cuts, and walks to school hungry more often than she admits.

Her weekends? Selling vegetables with her mother to help stretch the budget. She’s sharp, curious, but half her energy is consumed by survival. By the time she’s done fetching water, cooking, and helping her siblings, she has little left for herself.

Now meet Tariro. Also 14. But she’s in Harare, at a private school where fees are paid in advance. The fridge is always full. Her older sister runs a clothing business, and their dinner table is filled with conversations about profit, customers, and ideas. When Tariro asks for books, they appear. When she struggles in maths, a tutor is hired.

The differences start small but compound into destiny:

Tariro gets braces. Tamburai never does.
Tariro’s fluent English comes from exposure. Tamburai struggles because no one at home speaks it.
Tariro wears polished uniforms and fresh sneakers. Tamburai wears hand-me-downs that erode confidence.
By 18, Tariro gets her first car. Tamburai gets her first full-time job carrying crates at the market.
At 19, Tariro launches her first business with her sister’s help. Tamburai is still selling vegetables for survival.
Tariro eats a balanced diet, is healthy, and joins the gym. Tamburai is exhausted after walking 10 miles a day from the market.

Both are intelligent. Both are hardworking. But one is climbing a staircase while the other is dragging herself up a cliff with bare hands.

And here’s the bitter punchline: the lie of “work hard and you’ll make it” is never told to Tariro. It is told to Tamburai.

Because Tariro doesn’t need to hear it. Her success is already scripted by her environment. The myth exists to pacify Tamburai, to keep her grinding, believing that her struggle is purely her fault, instead of seeing the structural chains around her.

The Machinery of Inheritance

When you’re born into wealth, the conveyor belt is already built.

Assets compound. A family house grows in value. Shares pay dividends. Businesses pass profits down. Even when you’re not working, money is quietly working for you.
Education compounds. Rich parents pay for elite schools, tutors, international exposure. By the time their children hit adulthood, they’ve absorbed not just knowledge but confidence and access.
Networks compound. Family friends hire you. Cousins co-sign your ideas. Mentors appear at the dinner table. Life is a series of open doors.
Failure cushions. If you mess up, your parents cover the bill. You start again. The safety net keeps you from hitting concrete.

Now compare that with poverty:

Debt compounds. School fees overdue. Rent late. Medical bills stack. You’re sprinting while chained to a weight.
Hunger compounds. How do you focus on algebra when you haven’t eaten? Poverty steals concentration before it steals cash.
Chaos compounds. No stable home, power cuts, sickness, family emergencies. Plans collapse before they can harden.
Failure punishes. You try and fail? You lose everything. There is no restart button, no cushion.

The rich inherit momentum. The poor inherit friction.

The Exception Myth

Whenever you point this out, someone will rush to name-drop. Dangote. Oprah. Elon Musk.

They’ll say, “Look, if they did it, so can you.”

But that’s exactly the trick. Exceptions are not proof. They’re distractions. They highlight the rare lottery winners to keep the masses believing the system is fair.

For every Dangote who breaks through, there are millions of anonymous workers like Tamburai who grind themselves into the dirt and never escape.

Quoting exceptions to disprove the rule is like pointing at a guy who survived a plane crash and saying, “See? Crashing isn’t deadly.”

The Blame Game

Society loves blaming the poor. If you’re broke, it’s because you’re lazy. If you’re struggling, it’s because you didn’t hustle enough. This narrative protects the rich from guilt and keeps the poor from asking deeper questions.

But here’s the truth:
If you’re poor, it’s not your fault.

You didn’t choose your parents. You didn’t choose the economy you were born into. You didn’t choose whether your childhood was a launchpad or a trap.

Poverty is inherited. Poverty is structural. Poverty is sticky.

Yes, some break free, but most don’t. And pretending otherwise only piles guilt onto people who are already carrying the heaviest load.

Why This Truth Matters

Acknowledging this isn’t about giving up. It’s about clarity.

When you understand that the game is rigged, you stop carrying unnecessary shame. You stop blaming yourself for things outside your control. You stop thinking you’re broken when in reality the system is.

This shift matters because guilt paralyzes. It keeps people chasing motivational fantasies, wasting years trying to “hustle harder” instead of strategizing smarter.

Freedom begins when you realize:
The odds are stacked against you, but the fault is not yours.

And that realization is not weakness. It’s the beginning of real strength. Because now you can stop playing their game blindly, and start figuring out how to tilt the odds in your favor.

Orin.

Orinsforge

The Main Cause of Poverty, is Poverty.