Once A Millionaire

I have made peace with the fact that I will have completely nothing to show after a few months of being handed a million shillings. I make this declaration with a clear and sane mind, backed by the fact that laying my hands on a million shillings is realistically impossible. I am not gambling – I know there is always one winner, and it’s not me.

But then, as a self-respecting person, there is a shred of hope that someday I might land a million shillings without breaking too much sweat. People have become instant millionaires by simply being in close proximity of certain government parastatals. I could begin idling around these offices to increase my chances of being randomly selected to supply certain sensitive goods often referred to by the secret code ‘air.’

I would use a million shillings as much as the next man. I occasionally take time off my busy idling schedule (I guess the experience will come in handy when I begin idling around government offices) to fantasize about a million shillings. It is a step scientifically proven by scientists who have had more than six cups of keg.

What would I do with a million shillings? This is a question you should ask yourself. Then you make a list of priorities you would buy. Buy a car, a plot somewhere, and build a house. What will, remain, if any, you plan to travel to an exotic holiday destination, say Bermuda Triangle. If you closely look at the list, you will realise that you are completely stupid, not because that money is not enough, but because it does not involve an approved amounts of drinks and a party to let everyone know that you are the new millionaire in town.

If you are like me, I have had a little money that I have worked my ass off to lay my hands on. How did I spend it? Slowly, as I thought of something useful I would do. Didn’t the wise say that failing to plan is just a form ingenuity? Days down the line, I realise that the little money was not that little at all. At least compared to nothing, which is what I will have a week or two later.

It is then that I make a budget – no, a budget is something you make before you spend money. I make what I will call a reverse-budget. It is the process of outlining everything you bought and adding up. Often, there is a deficit that will gnaw your mind. Where did 20,000 shillings disappear to? This is the most illuminating question that reverse budgets always reveal to you.

Back to the million shillings, which, by the way, I do not have yet. I will reserve a fifth of it for an item I will term ‘where did 200,000 go’ just to be safe from the knowledge that I will recklessly spend on things I won’t need (I might code this as things that might probably kill me). That will leave me with just 800,000 shillings, assuming that the government doesn’t give me the reason of hating it more by robbing me a part it and disguising the blatant robbery with glowing terms such as taxes.

Then I will buy something that will remind me of a time when I had a million shillings. You need to do that, because everyone who has had a million shillings does it. Some pay for sex regardless of the scientifically proven fact that some girls like to have sex, for free, with millionaires. Do not do that. You have to pay for a high end hooker such as the first lady. It will give you immense bragging points that will last you a lifetime, assuming you do not end up dead in Ngong forest for your dare devil act.

I have not yet settled on something, but I am pretty sure that while I think of it, some of my close friends will lose their jobs. How, you may ask. It is simple, we will hobnob from one club to another, for one month straight. If you are my friend, you will not refuse the offer. Trust me, I am a millionaire. I could buy you another job, or idle with you by the government offices until you are randomly selected to supply ‘air.’

The truth of the matter is that I will go broke. I am under no illusions that a million bucks will serve me a lifetime, neither will I come up with ideas to multiply it. I’ll simply enlist a couple of guys (I might even tithe) to help me go broke. But then that’s not how it is, I will just be a millionaire, under the illusion that the status is permanent, treating my friends. Hell, I’ll even have a bunch of new fake-friends who will, when occasions dictate, sing me praises.

I’d like me just rich enough not to be arrogant. In the meantime, let me walk by the KEMSA offices, they might be in need of a new millionaire. I got to be ready all the time. You never know when it’s your turn.