Just what would I do with twenty one million bucks? Well, I suppose, first of all, I would pay a visit to the bank. With the entire staff falling over themselves and addressing me as ‘sir’, I would enjoy a cup of tea as we engage in small talk. Then out of the blue, I would hit the manager with a request. A simple and clear request. I would ask to see my money. Yep, I would tell the bank manager I want to see all my money. All twenty one million of it in crisp banknotes.
If the manager tells me they can show me the balance on the computer, I will reply that the numbers on the screen don’t resemble twenty million bucks to me. I know he would tell me they don’t keep such vast amounts in their vault. In that case, I would give him enough time to run around and give me a call as soon as the money is ready to be viewed. I won’t allow my money to be mixed with that of other people. My twenty one million will just sit alone in its vault. It will relax and breathe alone without being bothered by other people’s money. That is so that when I miss it, I would simply take a stroll to the bank to pay my money a visit. For my first visit, I would make sure there is a trusted camera man to take photographs of me posing next to the stacks of twenty one million in crisp notes. Bored, I might even instruct the manager that I want all of it changed into Zimbabwean currency to see how many rooms it would fill. I would visit my money every day to gaze at it. I will pick up the crisp notes at random, and feel them with my fingers, just to make sure they are not counterfeit. Finally, done with viewing my money, I would start spending it.
First, I will go for grooming lessons where I would be taught how to conduct myself when I am in the company of people with similar amounts of money. There, they will teach me how to laugh and how to use the cutlery because I will be getting invitations to posh events. It would be critical for me to tell the difference between a cognac glass and a whiskey tumbler. Next, I would employ a dietician who will make sure I stay away from unhealthy junk, such as tripe and goat hooves. A gymnasium would be installed at my mansion to keep me fit. Surely, I don’t want to die of a heart attack when there is still so much fun to have. I would then host a party at which all my friends would drink and eat to their hearts’ content. As a person who believes in sharing, I would make sure there is enough drink and food for everyone. After the party, I would go to my home village and visit the chief. I would ask him to arrange a huge party to which every villager would be invited. They would eat more meat than they ever thought possible. They would also drink the type of alcohol they used to associate only with white people. It will be a good party.
Villagers are gracious people. There would be a choir to sing nice songs about me. I am sure the chief would also organise a local praise poet to wax lyrical about this boy who fed the village so much meat. I would make sure that I dole out some cash to all my relatives. I would start with the poor ones. I would also buy shoes for their kids. On top of that, I would buy the kids ice cream, which they would be enjoying for the first time ever. If the parents also want to taste ice cream, that would be arranged. Some of my impoverished relatives will probably want to eat rice everyday. I would make sure I buy them sacks of rice. The rice would be delivered together with boxes of tomato sauce and mayonnaise. It would be important to appease my poor relatives so that they don’t bewitch me. Of course I would settle my debts. I would warn the debt collector that if word reached me he was harassing poor people again I would buy his little company and sack him. I won’t forget my former teachers.
I would buy them gifts such as nice clothing to wear to work. My old classmates who used to sit at the back in class, and subsequently failed their exams would come to me looking for jobs. I would hire them. But twenty one million bucks brings challenges. The major problem will be impostors. With so much money, I would be getting legal summonses from past girlfriends claiming I promised to marry them and suing for breach of promise. They would be so desperate they will be unearthing old photographs to argue their case. They would turn to their mothers for help. After being scolded by their mothers for stupidity for dumping me all those years ago, they would be taken to traditional doctors to make me come back. Heck, I would have to visit a traditional doctor myself to make sure I fortify myself against their charms. Between my visits to the bank to view my millions, the newspapers would carry stories featuring little urchins claiming to be my children. They would be featured on television accusing me of dumping their mothers all those years ago.
Coached well by their mothers about what to say, they would, in all innocence, claim they don’t want anything from me but just a small allowance for their school needs. It would be a hectic time. Amid the chaos and bedlam, I would map out an escape plan. Having concluded I can’t enjoy my money in peace, I would go away. I would charter a jet and fly to Mauritius to cool off on the beach for a few weeks whilst planning what to do next. Aboard the jet will be two sixteen year olds. In skimpy swim suits, they would accompany me on my daily walks on the beach. They would have everything they need. The sixteen year olds would earn their luxury lifestyle by giving me body massages and generally putting life back into the old boy as I am busy thinking about my money!