Growing up, I held the dubious reputation of being closest to the shop in our family, and for this reason, I was often send off to the shop, to purchase various household items. On some days, a can that held lots of coins came in handy as the source of money to the shop. The can probably held about Ksh 200 in Ksh. 1 denomination coins, and 50 cent coins and even 10 cent coins.
Back then, Ksh. 200 was a princely sum, just as it was unheard of naked princes partying in Las Vegas.
Fast forward to a couple of decades later, when both the VCR and the cassette player are museum relics, I came to own my own house lease my own home. While I sought to furnish the then empty house, I wasn’t looking to having my own enviable Ksh. 1 collection. I understood that shops and supermarkets needed the coin, and no need for me to join the cultural heritage of hoarding them.
Two years later, I have a collection of Ksh 1 coins that has been growing by the day, and by the odd night. I have become a victim of the coin shortage, which has left me with tens of coins in my house.
See, supermarkets have a problem, which estate shops don’t have, they lack enough coins. They have even resorted to buying coins. Yes, money is expensive, something that the government never tells you.
But why do supermarkets have a coin shortage while your estate shop doesn’t have much of the same problem?
Well, supermarkets are a net supplier of Ksh 1 coins. They give out much more Ksh. 1 coins as change than they receive as payments.
See, many Kenyans, after going to school to get an education to enable them get well paying jobs, actually got them. The Kenyan economy, by virtue of our Gross Domestic Product, our total production in terms of good and services taken on a per person average, has grown more than three times since 2000. If I was a statistician, I would come to the conclusion that the face of one Daniel Toroitich, son of Moi, on Kenya’s currency is to blame. They replaced his face with one very late Jomo Kenyatta, and Kenyans, not liking a dead face on their currency, began passing it around faster leading to more trade.
Anyway, a fast growing economy and a more people with the ability to spend has seen more and more people heading to the supermarket. All this people need change, as their shopping till adds up to a figure that rarely ends with a “0” or “5”. Most will pay with currency that ends with a “0” or “5”, needing change with Ksh 1 denominations.
A large number of “middle class” Kenyans do not carry Ksh. 1 denomination out of pure ego. They will inform you that their stature no longer allows them to keep carrying around Ksh. 1 coins around. The said coins are too heavy and cumbersome to carry around, plus they do not have much value.
However, the same ego will see them insisting that supermarkets should stop attempting to rob them by ensuring they give change in full, including the worthless, heavy, Ksh.1 coins.
So, if they get Ksh 1 coins from the supermarket as change, where do the coins go, such that no one appears to have Ksh 1 coins when paying for their shopping?
Easy, the heavy, cumbersome, worthless Ksh 1 coins are mostly carried home and deposited somewhere in the bedroom. They are given to the house maid and children to buy stuff in the estate shop. The coins are rarely considered as money worth carrying back to town, though.
An estate shop will therefore have regular supply of Ksh 1 coins. If the shopkeeper doesn’t have coins, they can come to an agreement where the buyer will bring Ksh. 1 coins, probably in the house, later.
Supermarkets do not know their customers on a personal basis, like este shops, and therefore can’t entrust the customers to bring back the coins from home. It is therefore down to giving sweets as change, or buying coins.
But why can’t supermarkets round off their prices to the nearest Ksh 10 or Ksh 5? Well, that will be quite tasking, plus this might see a drop in revenues. See, products are likely to be shifted upwards in price. Most consumers are however quite sensitive to pricing, and will opt out of buying several items since they are cheaper elsewhere. Furthermore, it will need all supermarkets rounding off the price, otherwise the first mover will be at a competitive disadvantage. The result is that it is cheaper for supermarkets to buy coins.
Meanwhile, in plight of the above situation, I was used to carrying Ksh. 1 coins that I often offered to supermarkets. This however led to a situation where I often ran out of Ksh 1 coins and would find the cashier without them either. I was therefore receiving sweets as change, despite not hoarding any coins and even volunteering my coins to ease the situation.
Hard times call for drastic decisions. I was not going to suffer from the lack of simple planning from fellow Kenyans. I was no longer going to offer my Ksh. 1 coins to help supermarkets stock up on theirs. I would only give out “my” Ksh 1 coins if the cashier was offering me sweets as a substitute.
To end up not carrying lots of coins around, I would have a “strategic reserve” of Ksh 1 coins in my house where I would leave extra coins, and would carry Ksh 1 coins to a value of five shillings in my pocket. So if I got change, and the value of Ksh 1 coins went above five shillings, I would deposit the amount above KSh 5 in my “strategic reserve”. If the value in my pockets of Ksh 1 coins dropped below Ksh. 5, I would “top up” from my strategic reserve.
The end result is that I now have a hoard of KSh 1 coins in my house, despite being against the idea. I beat if you can’t beat them up, you may as well join them.
Oh, anyone noticed that Tuskys, mostly frequented by the middle income matatu-taking population has been hardest hit by the shortage? Nakumatt, frequented by the better to do car driving populace is doing better, while Ukwala and other outlets frequented by the low income earners who value every coin, is also less hit.