Turns out I’m not the only genius hiding his fortune under a bed

I once hid R50 under my bed. We were on holiday in Margate and it was the sum of my life savings. It was 1975 and I was seven. Those days there weren’t ATMs or debit cards.

I had a Trust Bank savings account that came with a little book in which the tellers inside the bank recorded all transaction by hand. To withdraw cash, one had to go inside the bank, fill in a form, and hand it, together with the book, to the teller.

That’s exactly what I did a few days before we departed. I emptied out my savings account, leaving only the required R1 to keep the account active, because I was planning on having the holiday of a lifetime and I wasn’t getting caught without cash for an ice cream on a Saturday afternoon.

Banking hours were very limited. If I recall correctly, banks closed at 3pm, giving the staff time to consolidate the day’s transactions in all their ledgers before heading home. I literally clung to my stash of cash, checking every few minutes that I hadn’t lost any of my fortune.

ALSO READ: DA calls on Ramaphosa to own up about $4 million robbery

Once in Margate, I had to find a secure hiding spot inside the room I shared with my sister, three years my senior. I wasn’t going to carry all that money with me all the time. What would I do with it on the beach? And where could I leave it when I went swimming? I needed a safety deposit box.

My first port of call was under my pillow, but that was the first place Sister looked when challenged to find my fortune. I considered hiding it inside a shoe, but what if a burglar stole my shoes?

I investigated every nook and cranny of the bedroom, but nothing met my security requirements. Then it dawned on me: under the bed. Not exactly under, but between the base and the mattress. After all, the only thing usually found under a bed is a monster and who would be foolish enough to go poking around a monster’s den?

Turns out I’m not the only genius hiding his fortune under a bed. If I ever get invited to Nkandla, guess where I’ll be sneaking a peek.