Somewhere in between real life and escapism lies this story, enjoy the journey of the day in a life of a five Rand coin.

Blinded by the lights as I’m pulled out of  the cupboard and tossed onto a newly made bed.  Lying there breathless, vulnerable, belly up, together with a gazillion cousins, nephews, nieces and friends we chinkle, roll and giggle?  Two and a half years we’ve been hoarded in darkness, inside a pair off holey socks, in the back of a moldy cupboard.

Is this my season, is this is my moment to shine at last?  Maybe I will find my authentic self and find my life purpose, hope springs eternal.

In the blink of an eye we are counted into Leaning Tower of Pisa  piles, packet’ed and loaded into a pretty pink floral hand bag.  Tumbling with the others I end up at it’s  bottom and breathless with the weight, but trying to join the cheers and singing on the way to the ….. shops, holiday, school tuck shop perhaps?

Many stops along the way, swinging in the floral handbag,the load on top of me feels lighter and lighter and suddenly I’m lifted out and handed across a counter, “Please may I have a Lotto ticket – just one line – quick pick, yes.  Can you make it a winner?”.       I feel a tickle, bright lights, warm hand, roll into a small hard cold compartment, darkness, kachinnnng – silence!   Oh what a let down.  My moment.  Not!!!!!!!!!

Priiing, whoosh, warm hand, my next new home squeezed beside a box of Lucky Strike cigarettes in a warm whiffy sweaty pocket against someones unspeakables.  Eew, thoughts whirring in my brain – what did I do to deserve this, heck was my past life bad, was I prostitute, is this karma?

Within minutes this pocket feels like a washing machine of rattling matches, box of smokes, stick of biltong, smaller silver half cousins and copper ‘others’ as my human runs to catch his taxi home. Warm hand, my friends wince and squeal as we are separated and I am all alone once again, weep. They were used to pay for a space for my trouser wearer, I am squeezed next to different pockets filled with like minded “me’s”.  Shouting above the juke box and chatter we call to one another with our names, sizes and stories.  Mid sentence some scratching seems to be happening near my pocket and I’m holding on for dear life because there is a threadbare hole looming ahead, however this day seems to not be my lucky day! Burning hot, flesh, a leg, blur of hairs – this is all too frightening, Suddenly tobacco and other things were not so bad after all.  One only appreciates something comfortable , whatever comfort might look like in hind sight, when it’s gone eh.

On my way

One day in a crowded taxi

Hoot hoot, swoosh to the left, ieeerk – stop!  My human leaps up, I’m  falling, falling so fast I think my number will brush off and life turns into a thousand stars spinning around my head as I tumble down his leg, onto his running shoe, bounce hard onto a step, then the pavement and roll through dust into a bunch of grass.  Unrecognizable, and dejected now I lie alone on hard stones, in the dust, in the cold and wait for better days.  I know with my ‘knower’ they will come – after all – I am money and everyone will want me sometime.

Showers of rain splash over me and the moon is full, I wonder if that person who saved me for so long won the lottery, if the smoker who lost me through the hole in his trousers couldn’t buy his loaf of bread and if he will go hungry tonight because he lost me and who all the people were in that mad vehicle were and what their night entails as I shiver and wish for sunrise.

Will someone special find me and will I change another life when discovered?  What is my life purpose?  Jack of many trades and master of none so far.  Daily my value worldwide drops, but every coin has it’s day – maybe when I am 100 someone will claim me and say that once I bought a whole basket of food at the grocery store, I bought a seat at a movie house, 10 bubble yum chewing gums or just a loaf of bread.  My stories will be great and I will bring tears of laughter, liven an octogenarian’s day, bathe in fame in Southeby’s or go to the mint to be converted into an engagement ring for a special person and live a whole new life.

Lucky coin

Lucky coin

Drifting off into a confused sleep I dream of a child who is looking down along the pathway, tears brimming because she has been rebuked for not finishing her homework.  She spots me with absolute delight, snuggles me in her small innocent hand, looks up at mommy and asks for an ice cream.  It doesn’t matter I am not enough, and my little girl will never know because her mom makes up the difference, I helped brighten a day and motivate completion of homework.

The moral of my story is that we all have an important part to play in our unique bubbles. Sometimes we might contribute towards a momentary dream, be a basic friend or someone to dry the tears on a sad day. Remember you have a shine inside and need to wait for your calling, however dusty or stormy life may seem.