I don’t know whether it happens to you also. Each time I don’t have money, which is most of the time anyway, I always come across nice stuff like sneakers, clothes, watches or phones. There is nothing so painful like wanting something, but you have no money to do the purchase. Believe it or not, the pain is like someone is poking your heart with a red hot sharp knife. The rich have troubles of their own like trying to evade paying taxes, amassing more wealth and how to keep their bodies in shape.
I get so frustrated if not agitated. A poor man knows the value of money than a rich person who is inclined to take everything for granted. Maybe the intrinsic value of money has different meanings between the rich and the poor.
In my world, which is nothing much anyway, people live a frugal life barely scraping a living. The daily grinding of life is zeroed on the streets, selling second hand clothes, fruit and vegetables, mending pots, selling airtime and each street corner is occupied by one market of one kind or another . Others sell chicken cuts which attract flies.
The other time, Tobias who used to play social soccer tried to pull a fast one by selling dog meat. The day he was caught, he was beaten to a pulp by his angry customers.
He ran to the rural areas and lay low for several months. When he came back, he had become a prophet of one of the white garment churches in the suburb. He had met his Damascus moment the period he was in hibernation.
Dirty children played in the ditches while their mothers, with anxious faces tried to hide their pain, the pain of living, never sure of the next meal for their families.
The last man who had a decent job in our street, Baba VaFrank all but lost his job when he was retrenched at the bank he had worked for many years as a janitor.
Almost everyone in the street knew his pay day. There was always one or two people begging him for money on his payday. He was too generous and was always fighting with his wife about this. His wife always said to him, “Are you Santa Claus?”
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There was one sport betting shop in the suburb. I had been there once or twice before. I have heard stories of other people winning big time. I know some of the people.
For instance Jerry, the guy who repaired bicycles by the street corner won US$1000. The whole town got to know of it. Just the thrill of holding all that money in his hands had driven him crazy. By all the people, it included scammers. Someone convinced him to keep his money for him as he had attracted too much attention. That conman vanished into thin air with all the money. Jerry has never been the same since that day and has become schizophrenic.
There was no harm if I tried my luck at the betting shop. I decided to go and place my bet.
I have made so many mistakes in my life, but I think this was one of the worst blunders I have ever made. There was some money under the mattress, which we were saving for rent as usual. Mai VaMaidei was at the market, the children were playing outside and I could hear their voices.
I took the money from under the mattress surreptitiously. I was sure that before the end of the day I could be richer and replace the money and even surprise Mai VaMaidei. I should have been more careful. I always say there is always a twist to the best laid plans.
By the time I arrived at the betting shop, it was peak betting hour. There were many people, cigarette smoke filled the air before it disappeared in the ceiling. All around me were excited faces with great expectations. This was fool’s gold. My sixth sense suddenly came alive and it was too late by then as the betting fever had gotten hold of me.
Each time I placed a bet, my stomach tightened with anxiety.
The first two bets were like warm up, but by the time I placed my last bet with the last money I had, I had a gut feeling that all was lost. I lost all the money. I sat dejected for more than an hour. The quietness around me and forlornness of the other people convinced me that this was fool’s gold.
The thought of Mai VaMaidei discovering that all the money was gone gave me butterflies in my stomach. She was in the habit of counting all the money daily each time she came home from the market. I smelled trouble.
The next time I will tell you what transpired when Mai VaMaidei discovered about the missing money.
Onie Ndoro X@Onie90396982
