LIFE BY LOUIS: Of financial boom back in campus

I was already sweating by the time the cashier finished counting my money and handed it over to me. ILLUSTRATION| IGAH

What you need to know:

  • I packed the new bank notes neatly at the bottom of a detergent container and covered them with a polythene bag.
  • I then replaced back the washing powder, flattened the top and placed the container back in the cabinet.
  • Every Friday evening, I securely locked myself in my room, emptied the container and removed a few notes for the weekend and coming week.

I had neither seen nor touched a wad of money until I joined an institution of higher learning. It was also the first time I entered into a banking hall.

I only felt the warmth of a wad of cash when I was admitted to a prestigious public university located in the city centre where I was supposed to come out with the powers to read and write.

I must add that apart from the powers to read and write, I also took other elective units like learning how to cook from an electric coil placed on the floor and using one sufuria to cook all my meals.

I also took a third semester unit in dating, plus an optional common course in picketing and demonstrations.

As still happens to date, I was entitled to an educational loan subject to meeting several criteria which I did. The grand old man Prof. Chacha was the man responsible for deciding your financial fate while at the university, and he must have liked my application where I had justified my needfulness to detail.

BOOM

I remember the day I walked into the banking hall ready to withdraw the money that we gladly referred to as boom or Chacha. I was wearing a coat and tie so as to be in harmony with the cashiers and teachers in the banking hall.

Even in those days the banks still tethered their pens using a long nylon string lest you stole the pen and rendered the banking institution bankrupt.

However unlike today when the counters are manned by tech savvy youngsters wearing gold rimmed glasses over their pimpled noses, the cashiers back then were mostly pensioners who kept referring to wads of paperwork that looked like pre medieval scrolls.

I was already sweating by the time the cashier finished counting my money in the furious money counter that has remained noisy despite all the advances in technology.

I stashed the money in my socks because that is what I had learned from watching bank heist movies in the village.

PRUDENT

When I look back at how I managed the money after I arrived in the hostel room, I tend to think that this country owes me a presidential recognition and a slot in prime time news to discuss financial prudence.

I first of all emptied the contents of a popular dry washing powder on the floor. I packed the new bank notes neatly at the bottom of the container and covered them with a polythene bag.

I then replaced back the washing powder, flattened the top and placed the container back in the cabinet.

There was no way that detergent container was going to be empty lest it left my immense wealth exposed. I therefore only bought smaller sachets of the detergent and refilled the container if the levels were running low.

I made no effort to hide the container from view, and although my room was never broken into, I would bet that even the nosiest thief was not going to find any money in the room unless he had come specifically to steal washing detergents.

SECURE

Every Friday evening, I securely locked myself in my room and propped a chair against the door. I then went through the rigmarole of emptying the container and removing a few notes for the weekend and coming week. I must have been the envy of modern day cash in transit and security companies.

It reminds me of an old man from my village who toiled hard as a charcoal burner but lived a frugal life and his family lived in abject poverty.

He did not share a bedroom with his spouse, and the room was always well secured with a big padlock whose key was always hanging from his neck.

When he got ill, he never left his bed even as well-wishers came to visit him and brought him fruits and juice.

HIDDEN TREASURES

Unbeknown to his family members, the reason why he could not get off his bed is because he had millions of shillings from the sale of charcoal stashed under his mattress.

When he finally went to meet his maker, his few friends and age mates were called in to prepare his body for the final burial rites.

They discovered the treasures hidden under his bed which they promptly helped themselves with. He was buried a poor man and his family continued to live in poverty.

I am not advocating for people to go back to keeping all their money under their pillows. There is prudence in keeping your money safe and spending it wisely.

In the modern world, banks and other financial institutions present me with very safe options for keeping and withdrawing my money.

After all, the detergents manufacturing company later changed the container to a polythene bag which is basically useless as far being my in-house bank is concerned.