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Have you ever hit rock bottom? I have. Several times! Despite having passed my high school with distinction, it became apparent to me that there was a high chance I was never going to continue with my studies. Finance! To think about all the time I had invested into my career shifted perspective of long library hours simply ‘for the vine’ to a leverage, a compelling appeal, for justice from heavens. Probably explains the frequent major depressive episodes I started experiencing. At some point around that time I had to sell movie discs so that I could have lunch money and, on generous days, buy some kicks at a thrift shop to keep up appearance.

Selling discs in Zimbabwe is a typical social low. Maybe the lowest it ever got for me. Just kidding, but you get the point. In case you didn’t, you lose girls faster than a flood of waters of which, I’m ashamed to admit, girls were objects of purge for me in those days. Never fonicated that much, though. Sadly! Just kept it third base tops. Not preference, of course. I was desperately trying to be in good graces with God whom I constantly reminded about my need for a scholarship. As for whether my demiviage activity constituted fornication; Oh, well, I suppose God would have a soft palm for me on this one. Be that as it may, it was a demon I could afford.

Anyway, I was selling DVDs, mostly Western TV shows. Interestingly, I had watched most of them and I challenged myself to know each one before I could sell it off. Oh, and the girls thingy? I was doing my trading in Park Town, a place located about eight kilometers from my home. This way, I reasoned, I could save face and still do what needed to be done. It wasn’t that simple, though, because, in that neighborhood, I met girls who were ‘something I could work with.’ Psych, they were prettier that most girls in my neighborhood and I had to fight off an inclination to hit on a fair share of them. (On a sidenote, I don’t like creating stereotypes but some are just based in truth. If you cringed then soothe yourself with the fact that girls in that middle density just cleaned up nicer than those in my neighborhood.) I just put that on the Business Entity Concept to give my grievance an easy answer but the reality was that, for a ‘disc boy’, I could have broken a leg trying to prove a point.

I called my activity ‘money rounds’, by the way; quite the phrase for a misfit street vendor- or at least I viewed myself in that convenient light. Anyway, if you have been an avid reader of my posts you might have realized I don’t write about my past that regularly and there is a reason behind that. People have a misconception that hardship grooms the best of people. This is more misleading than helpful in that most people who start at a typical disadvantage never make it out of that loop. A better perspective of my past is that it is my past. Nothing to infer from it, except maybe the obvious character of hope, diligence, faith, curiosity, strategy etc. which happen to be ubiquitous to every success story.

I’m just glad I’m juggling bigger obsessions now that the hope of sleeping on a decent bed, one which had taken me more than twenty years, was realized. Perhaps I will become a millionaire before the age of thirty. No, let me rephrase that; I will become a millionaire at the age of thirty. Peter Thiel encouraged me to be a definite optimist. Much of this to enable my diabetic mum to buy her groceries without looking at the price tags. Until then, Uba will be working hard like a stripper. Yeah, stripper!

Herbert Chakurangeyi

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