We have found ourselves in possession of a large handful of 5 shilling coins, thanks to a mini-market not having any 50 shilling coins to give in change. In fact chengi (change, many Swahili words are English words with an “I” on the end) is often as hard to come by in Tanzania as it is in WRVS shops of British hospitals. So in theory having some small coins in your pocket should be useful, but there’s small and then there’s pointless. The 5 shilling piece may (I am pretty sure they do not mint anything smaller here) be the lowest value piece of money I have ever held. I would put it forward as a candidate for the most worthless piece of money outside Zimbabwe. I mean this is seriously “Pass the blowtorch” territory, as the metal it is made of must be worth more than 5 shillings. Dinner here will typically cost about 10,000, which is also the largest denomination in circulation. A single mango (having been picked from a wild tree and then transported about 10km by ancient bicycle, i.e. almost no cost of labour involved) costs 100-200. Most shops and restaurants, regardless of whether they have ever seen you before or even if they don’t know you from Adam (or Mohammed depending on their favoured mythology) will ignore the last 100 shillings either way, instead smiling and promising to make it good next time. A car costs anything from 10 to 40 million. In other words, 5 shillings is about as much good as a farthing is in London today, whereas if you “max-out” at the ATM you actually cannot close your wallet, the wad is so thick.
If it sounds as though I am going to go on and link this in some clever way to Britain’s continuing refusal to join the EU or the imminent collapse of the US dollar, then sorry to disappoint but I’m not. This isn’t thought for the day, who apparently did their first Humanist TFTD recently, about chuffing time. But no punchline or message here. I’m just observing the value of stuff, and maybe thinking that the Tz government could do with melting down all the 5 shilling coins and printing a 50,000 or 100,000 note, for instance.
In other financial news, we have found and bought a car. I was all set up to get a Nissan Patrol, and looking forward to this, my first legitimate excuse to drive an enormous 4x4. Because I am human and I am a bloke, so as much as my green ethics made me despise SUV drivers in London, my testosterone still gives me a firm, male bonding type boot in the arse relating to big butch vehicles. And living at the end of an unmade road which is full of potholes and rocks in the dry season and massively worse when it rains, is exactly what high, long-wheel-base 4x4s are actually good for. Then, at the last moment, Suze and I got lost and accidentally found Lara, and she gently shook me out of my macho dreams. Lara (as in Croft, natch’) is a Suzuki Escudo (called the Vitara in GB, I think) with proper 4x4 including the low-ratio option that always used to cause Land Rovers to stall, in my memory. Air con, five doors, decent luggage space and a bloody good stereo, roughly in order of importance. And the fact that she has a piddly 2 litre engine instead of the 4.2l turbocharged monster that drove the Patrol had to be put aside as she is in almost showroom-new condition, with 5 new tyres and about 2/3 the cost of the Nissan. [Sigh] The midlife crisis will have to wait another year or two.
If it sounds as though I am going to go on and link this in some clever way to Britain’s continuing refusal to join the EU or the imminent collapse of the US dollar, then sorry to disappoint but I’m not. This isn’t thought for the day, who apparently did their first Humanist TFTD recently, about chuffing time. But no punchline or message here. I’m just observing the value of stuff, and maybe thinking that the Tz government could do with melting down all the 5 shilling coins and printing a 50,000 or 100,000 note, for instance.
In other financial news, we have found and bought a car. I was all set up to get a Nissan Patrol, and looking forward to this, my first legitimate excuse to drive an enormous 4x4. Because I am human and I am a bloke, so as much as my green ethics made me despise SUV drivers in London, my testosterone still gives me a firm, male bonding type boot in the arse relating to big butch vehicles. And living at the end of an unmade road which is full of potholes and rocks in the dry season and massively worse when it rains, is exactly what high, long-wheel-base 4x4s are actually good for. Then, at the last moment, Suze and I got lost and accidentally found Lara, and she gently shook me out of my macho dreams. Lara (as in Croft, natch’) is a Suzuki Escudo (called the Vitara in GB, I think) with proper 4x4 including the low-ratio option that always used to cause Land Rovers to stall, in my memory. Air con, five doors, decent luggage space and a bloody good stereo, roughly in order of importance. And the fact that she has a piddly 2 litre engine instead of the 4.2l turbocharged monster that drove the Patrol had to be put aside as she is in almost showroom-new condition, with 5 new tyres and about 2/3 the cost of the Nissan. [Sigh] The midlife crisis will have to wait another year or two.
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