When people are just statics

Luis Munguambe Junior"

There are times when I sit and look at the numbers. Yes, numbers. Graphs, tables, percentages. They tell us about economic growth, poverty reduction, jobs created. They tell us that the country is moving forward, that we are better off than we were. But deep down, I ask myself: where are the faces, the names, the sweat of the people in these numbers? When did the people stop being people and become statistics?

Numbers have no soul. They do not carry the weight of a mother who works three shifts to feed her children. They do not count the tears of a young person who has lost hope of finding a decent job. They have no space for the silence of children who go to school on empty stomachs, because hunger does not fit into a table.

And yet we are bombarded with them. Official speeches are filled with promising-sounding percent ages. “Poverty has fallen by X percent.” “Unemployment has fallen by Y percent.” “The economy has grown by Z percent.” We applaud, we believe, because it is easier to accept the numbers than to face reality. But I see beyond the numbers. I see the woman selling fruit on the street corner, her hands scarred from hard work and a smile that hides her exhaustion. I see the student who walks miles to school because he believes, against all odds, that education can change his life. I see the old man waiting for a pension that never comes, sitting in the shade of a tree, staring into the distance.

These people are not in the graphs. They are not part of the speeches. They are invisible to those who govern based on statistics. Because it is easier to look at progress as something abstract than to face the con crete suffering of those who live on The margins.

And here is the problem: when people become mere statistics, humanity is lost. Governments forget that each percentage represents real lives, unique stories, hopes and pain. They forget that development is not just a question of numbers, but of justice, dignity, and respect for those who build the country every day. I am not saying that num bers are irrelevant. They have their place. But they cannot be the only criterion for measuring a nation’s success. True progress is not seen in the tables, but in the streets. It is seen when a child has access to a quality education, when a family has food on the table, when a worker is treated with respect.

If we want change, we must start by demanding more than numbers. We must demand stories, faces, commitments. We must remind those who lead us that the people are not a set of data, but a living, vibrant force capable of transforming the country – if they are given the tools and opportunities to do so. I refuse to accept that we are just statistics. Because as long as we are treated like numbers, decisions will continue to be made in our name, but never in our favor. And until that changes, we will continue to fight, not against the numbers, but against the dehumanization they represent.

The people deserve more than graphs. They deserve to be heard, respected, valued. And above all, they deserve to remind those in power that behind every percentage there is a heart that beats, a voice that cries out and a life that matters.

2025/12/3