HOW TO BE AN FNB
Tessa Dowling

PERSONAL FINANCE MAGAZINE
January 2008

My friend and work colleague, Grace (her real name is Nonceba, but eish, she gave that up after a guy she fancied said he couldn't go out with someone whose name he couldn't pronounce) was doing her budget.

"R200 to Truworths, R160 to Woolworths, R700 to my mom, R500 to Airtime ..." she muttered.

"I thought you had a cellphone contract, sana (babe)?" I didn't want to interfere, but working with Grace and listening to her conversations, I sort of knew a lot about her life - private, public and economic.

"No, Airtime is my uncle's brother's child. That's his name, and I am helping him with his school fees, because my uncle put ME through school."

So I didn't question her when she carried on, "R150 to Teaspoon (her aunt's cousin's child), R60 for Innocence ..."

"You know," she sighed, "it is a total waste of time trying to save when you are a darkie. Once you have a job the whole family makes demands. It was better in my grandmother's days. She just used to put her money in the iziqhova of her iqhiya (the folds of her headdress) and voetsek to anyone who wanted anything other than a sip of her excellent umqombothi (Xhosa beer), and even then she would make you pay. She got so rich she had three houses in the Transkei, two shacks in Gugulethu and a money-lending business in Polokwane. All from hiding her money away somewhere on her body."

She looked sad, as if the memory of her grandmother conjured up a mythical, merry time of money, marhewu (a thin Xhosa porridge beer) and amorous men who not only could pronounce your name, but made it sound like a gentle kiss on the cheek.

"You know my aunt," she went on. "She used to keep her money in her panties, until a mugger made her pee. And my father always told us that we hadn't grown up with a silver spoon in our mouths, but we would always have a couple of tigers in our nappies."

"Tigers in your nappies!" I knew Grace had led an interesting childhood, but that was stretching the imagination.

"Oh, sorry, sana, a tiger is a R10, so sometimes in my nappy I would have five tigers and two chocs (a choc is R20). And my dad would hold my mom tight around her waist and whisper, 'Come on, sweetie, s'apha a half-tiger (give me a half-tiger = R5),' and my mother would just ignore him. But if he were lucky, she would unwrap her hanky and hand him an iponti (R2) and say, 'Heyi wena, that is all you are getting,uyaweyista wena (you waster)!'"

Grace had gone back to doing her Pastel accounting and was pissed off that she was not reconciling. Always a good time to get her to chat.

"Um, Grace, and you, where do you keep your money?"

"In the bank, of course. And in my stupid boyfriend's pockets."

"Why in his pockets?" Grace is weird, but is actually very good with money, so I knew there would be some logic behind this.

"You know that man, he is useLESS with money. So he is always, 'Ndibroke, majitha (I am broke, lads),' to his friends, when they come in with their flashy clothes but fokol money, shouting, 'Siyakutwebetsa emzeve! (We are going to draw money from the bank!)' - meaning HIS bank, of course. Which is me. S'true, sana! They say, 'UGrace yiFNB, thola a blokstena from her! (Grace is an FNB, get a block of bricks [=ÊR1000] from her!)'"

Apparently anyone who is rich in the townships can be referred to as FNB. (I don't know why the other banks don't feature, maybe they should look into it.)

"So, Grace, you must get irritated from being treated like a bank?"

"Exactly! What does he think I am? His bloody sugamama?"

"But still, why keep YOUR money in HIS pockets?" I thought maybe the fact that she had grown up with uncomfortable nappies had actually affected the soundness of her mind in her later years.

But no.

"I keep money in HIS pockets because that is the ONE place he will never look. He knows there is never any money there."

"Never?"

"NEVA!"

Grace is hoping to become a financial adviser one day. She could rock the stock markets with her original, creative mind. As she herself has said, the old Xhosa proverb "Ubuhle bendoda ziinkomo (The beauty of a man is his cows [= wealth])," should be changed to "Ubutyebi bomfazi yingqondo yakhe" (The richness of a woman is her mind.)

Tessa Dowling is a director of African Voices, a company that produces multimedia materials for the learning and teaching of South Africa's African languages.