By Rita Enemuru, Reporting
WHILE most Point of Sale (POS) operators in bustling urban centres like Warri and environs were busy making cash transactions, a different scene played out a few kilometres away in Fenegbene Community, tucked not too deep within the creeks of Delta State.
There, Mr Pere Opoyi sat quietly on a plastic chair, not too far from the riverbank, his POS machine resting patiently in front of him. He was not surrounded by queues or noise. Instead, he waited calmly almost idly for customers who came slowly and sparingly: elderly women, fishermen returning from the water, women traders, and petty hawkers whose transactions were as small as their profits.
The PoS Operator
From his calm demeanour, Stonix News reporter who visited the community in December could immediately tell that business was slow. Very slow. Yet there was no bitterness on his face. No anger. Just a quiet endurance shaped by years of hardship.
The father of one, dark in complexion, bore the weight of a life that had not been kind. His wife had left him due to persistent financial hardship, but the look he gave passers-by was not one of resentment. It was one of hope. A gentle, subtly look beckoning people to bring their cash transactions to him.
When our reporter approached him, Opoyi wasted no time in easing her curiosity. He began to speak, not with complaint, but with quiet honesty, narrating both his personal journey and the story of a community where survival is a daily negotiation with poverty, water and uncertainty.
According to him, sustainable jobs are almost non-existent in the community. For years, his life revolved around menial labour – any task that could put food on the table, no matter how small the pay.
The 41-year-old single father explained that although he completed secondary school, his academic journey ended there.
Hear him: “My name is Odli Pere Apoyi. I’m from Bomadi Local Government Area, Delta State. I came to this community in 2004. I am 41 years old. I am the vice chairman of this community. I have a child. He is 10 years old and he is he attends the community Primary School. I have really done any kind of business since that time. This Point of Sale (POS) is what I just ventured into not too long ago.
The PoS guy
“I finished secondary school but couldn’t further because my parents couldn’t afford it.
“I started this business in 2021. Before that time, I was doing menial jobs. Most times, I help local boats remove water from local boats. Sometimes, I follow them deep into the bushes in the river to cut woods. Though it’s not regular, I was surviving with it. I do any domestic job, like carpentry every now and then. As the money comes, it goes. We don’t have savings. If I do these domestic jobs, I get N2000 to N6000. It’s that money that I will manage till I get another job.
“I had a wife but she left because she couldn’t cope with the hardship.
“It was the from these menial jobs that I was saving and that was what I used to get the POS machine in 2021. Because it’s a rural community, the highest I make daily to N3000 to N5000. And this is what I usex to feed myself and my son and also save from.
“When I started this business, Buhari was still in power and compare to now, I will say I made more money that time than I did now. That time, I could save but now, it more like eating the money as it comes because of how little it is. My son attends the community private school and I pay N6000 school fees every term. I live in a room and parlour plank house and I pay N8000 as house rent per month.”
Before venturing into the POS business in 2021, his days were filled with physically demanding and irregular jobs. Sometimes, he helped local boat owners remove water from leaking boats. Other times, he followed them deep into the creeks to cut wood. On some days, he did small carpentry work or any domestic job available.
The pay was meagre – between N2,000 and N6,000 whenever work came. There were no savings, no long-term plans.
The strain eventually took its toll on his family.
It was from years of scraping by on these menial jobs that Opoyi managed to save enough money to acquire a POS machine in 2021. For him, it was not just a business decision; it was a lifeline.
“Because this is a rural community,” he explained, “the highest I make in a day is between N3,000 and N5,000.”
From this modest income, he feeds himself and his son, pays rent, settles school fees and still tries against all odds to save.
Reflecting on the state of the economy, Opoyi noted that things have worsened over time.
“When I started this business, Buhari was still president,” he said. “Compared to now, I made more money then. I could save. Now, it is like eating the money as it comes because everything is expensive.”
His son attends a private school within the community, for which he pays N6,000 per term. He lives in a one-room-and-parlour plank house, paying N8,000 monthly as rent.
Beyond financial hardship, life in Fenegbene comes with physical danger. During the rainy season, the community is often flooded, making movement difficult and risky.
“Apart from getting money to survive, it is hard living in this community because of the risk of falling into water during the rainy seasons.
“The community always gets flooded when it rains and it is difficult to move about. Children stay at home or wear rain boots when the water is much.
“If someone asked me what I would want the government to do for me in terms of help, I would say money to start up a good and profitable business.
“I will like to have a boutique where I can sell quality men’s clothes in Warri. I want to add that to this my POS business.
“If the government wants to help me,” he said, eyes brightening, “I want money to start a good and profitable business.
‘I want to do better for myself and for my son,” he said.
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