By Jack Mureithi

Ever since Charles Dickens wrote a powerful cautionary tale against Scrooge and his perfectly rational tight fisted ways, the idea of cancelling Christmas has always come attached to such a powerful stigma. Even financially challenged fellows find it quite impossible to do the fiscally prudent thing and go underground when Jesus Christ’s alleged birthday rolls around every year.

America, which creates wealth on a scale unimaginable anywhere else and which should be able to afford to cancel Christmas, was unable to pull it off. Instead, it found itself authorising to borrow more money from China to pay for the stuff it had bought from China.

Gaping hole

Anticipating his usual hefty bonus at the end of the year after yet another stellar performance on the job front, Baraza was confident he would have a cash pile to blow on Jesus’ birthday. Why not? Jesus deserved it. He made a living by managing his employer’s multi-million shilling stores inventory. He was also educated enough to appreciate that the Mayans used to smoke a lot of substances that are prohibited by most countries today. Thus, the world would most definitely not end in 2012 and Christmas would continue as scheduled.

Then the sledgehammer came down. The company had taken an unexpected hit to its finances and there was a gaping hole in the balance sheet. After a crisis meeting on Boxing Day, it was decided that there would be no bonus. Alas, that particular bit of news trickled in after he had already spent the bulk of his existing cash on expenditures that, with hindsight, were completely unnecessary.

Now it was January and he needed money for his real obligations. Some time back Mwaniki, his useless buddy from Finance who had not given him a heads up on the bonus thing, had introduced him to the idea of maintaining a personal balance sheet.

That is what he was staring at right now. The numbers were bad. To make matters worse, his car had developed radical problems in its suspension system after a week of gallivanting around the countryside on rough roads with his incorrigible cousins, who always seemed to have an idea for somewhere to go.

“Chief, we will fuel. There’s no problem!” Chris had exclaimed. And forward they would march, er, drive. Good times.

Bled him dry

They visited his grandmother who she did not approve of them at all, especially Chris.

“Baraza! When will I get some grandchildren?” Was all she had wanted to know.

Meanwhile, his relatives had bled him dry. They had sung his praises throughout the holidays and he had spent generously like the big shot that he was. At night he had bought round after round.

George, the playboy of the family, even got him to finance his hotel bill. “Merry Christmas George!” Baraza had drunkenly laughed as he peeled back the wad of notes and handed them over to George, who had a lovely lass with him.

Alas, now everybody was back to their real worlds. The debts were growing dauntingly. What to do?


 

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