By the time Moses had walked for about one hour under the sun he was already exhausted, he already knew he was in trouble. It sat in his pocket and weighed almost nothing, the coins. A few coins knocking against each other, making jingles too small to command respect, he saw some people on the street with their bowls extended begging him for money, their bowls filled with cash, it seemed funny to him that the people that were termed beggers were even more well off than he was and even had the means to help him at that point in time. He dipped his hand into his pocket for the third time that afternoon, fingers brushing metal, counting without really counting. The jingle answered him before the numbers did. An almost apologetic sound. It was the sound of someone who had made choices and was now standing inside their consequences.
The day had started with confidence, he convinced himself this was to be a great day. He was ready to go job hunting again, he looking for any blue collar job he could find, he had graduated over a year ago but hadnt secured a well paying job and so decided to get whatever he could lay his hands on. That was the first mistake, though he wouldn’t realize it until much later. Confidence often when it is unearned, borrows against tomorrow. He woke up late, convinced he could still beat the traffic, convinced that Lagos would bend for him the way it sometimes does for people who move with certainty. He skipped breakfast, telling himself hunger sharpened focus. He ignored the voice that suggested he walk instead of taking an uber. Time, he thought (after watching some faux motivational speakers) was more valuable than money. So he spent money to save time. The rider charged him extra because he was in a hurry. He paid without arguing, proud of his decisiveness. At this point he had some was cash, his wallet and just a few jingles ,change from the previous days hustle . The cash in his pocket grew thinner, but he told himself it was an investment. The big city respected people who moved fast. At each junction, he made small choices that felt harmless on their own. He paid instead of asking or trying to negotiate. He rushed instead of waiting for the bus, he chose convenience over common sense. He tipped people who didn’t help him, afraid of looking stingy. He bought bottled water instead of buying the common sachet/pure water that was being hawked. He ate in fancy restaurants instead of the road side food as his peers did. Each decision the coins in his pocket increased and jingled softly in his pocket. The cash was getting thinner and the Jingles grew louder.
By noon, he had applied in almost 10 places all saying they'd get back to him and some outrightly rejecting him, and his confidence had begun to crack. He thought he could use his education and good English to charm himself to getting some meaningful job but the places he applied to looked at him with disdain. He started calculating backward, doing mental gymnastics with math, with hope instead of numbers. If he avoided one more unnecessary expense, he would be fine. He had always been good at surviving the edge, and he always seemed to pull through but sometimes edges cut. The worst decision came quietly, the happened. A man offering him help, he had sat down and was shaking his head when the man approached him and asked if he needed help. He hesitated and turned the help down. He sat there for nearly an hour before feeling his pocket get a little lighter, and then it dawned on him, his phone had gone missing and so also his wallet, he had been hustled by someone better at the game. When he reached into his pocket afterward, the coins answered him with a jingle that felt almost mocking now. For the first time that day, his world stopped. The city kept going around him. Bus horns screamed their usual insults at the air. Conductors shouted destinations. Somewhere, a generator roared, the city did not pause for regret, the city had no empathy and no one cared. He leaned against a wall and counted properly this time, he counted the coins he had left. The number disappointed him, but not as much as the realization that followed, he was broke, he had spent it carelessly trying to outrun time and embarrassment. He had made decisions not to solve problems, but to avoid discomfort. By evening, he had given up and started the long journey home on foot, saving the last of his coins like a fragile secret. With each step, the coins in his pocket made themselves known. Jingle. Jingle. Jingle. At first, the sound comforted him. It meant he still had something. Proof that the day had not taken everything. But as the sky, the jingle began to accuse him. Each clink felt like a replay button, returning him to moments he could have chosen differently. He could have walked earlier. He could have waited. He could have asked questions instead of trusting appearances. He could have swallowed pride and negotiated. He could have accepted discomfort as temporary instead of treating it like an emergency.
The solar street city lights flickered on, one by one. Hunger returned, sharper now, no longer something he could ignore. He thought about spending the last of his coins on food, then stopped himself. Tomorrow mattered too. That was a lesson the day had beaten into him gently but firmly. So he kept walking. By the time he reached his street Inside his room, he emptied his pocket onto the bed. The coins lay there, stripped of their sound. Without movement, they were just objects, unimpressive. The coins told a story, a story of the day he had. It had been narrating the day, decision by decision, jingle by jingle. He lay back and stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow, he promised himself, he would move slower. He would ask before paying. He would respect patience. He would choose discomfort if it meant keeping dignity.No one really cared about what he looked like, it didn’t matter. He smiled and told himself that .Outside, somewhere down the street, coins jingled in someone else’s pocket, but one thing remained certain tomorrow is another day and he will definitely head out again in search for a better day and one day their will be no more jingles in his pocket, just wads of cash. A big dreamer he was!!.
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