Alright, listen folks. Let me tell you about my cousin, Sipho. Clever guy, more clever for his own shoes sometimes. He this the one who first told me about this Bitcoin thing. We was sitting here, watching the braai fire die down, and my cousin he's talking about something much more greater than gold, and freedom, and me, I'm just thinking, "How much is it in rand?" Of course because the Zim Dollar had died.
See, that it was my problem from the start. My mind, it only did worked in one way. Rands. Dollars maybe. That's how you knows if you have something, né? You checked the price.
So Sipho, he helped me put a little bit of my money in I did earning from my barbershop. Not much. Maybe four thousand rand. And the next day, I'm checking. It's worth one thousand nine hundred rand! Ag, shame! I'm already lose. I call Sipho, panicking.
"Bru," he says, calm like a Sunday morning. "Why are you checking? It's not a share price. You bought a five hundred-whatever sats. You still have it. Just keep it, use it and earn more of it."
But I couldn't. Every day, me I'm looking. The rand it go up, I'm happy like a lottery winner. It fall, my whole mood it is spoiled. My whole value it's tied to this number on the screen, this rand price. It was worse than watching the stock exchange. At least with those, you can sleeping.
Then one day, Thando come to me with this big idea. "The rand is jump up and down like a goat on a hot plate," he saying. "You need stability. Move some of your Bitcoin into a stablecoin. It's tied one-to-one with the dollar. Safe."
It sounded right, you know? Stable. Coin. My fiat brain love them words. I was busy moving it when Sipho's phone rang. It's his friend in Zambia, in big trouble. The banks there had locked accounts for people from his tribe. No reason. Just can't get his own money.
Sipho don't panic. He just asked the guy, "Do you still has that seed phrase I told you to write on paper and hide?" The guy say yes. "Okay," Sipho said. "Install Tails OS, I told you that day, go to a library, any internet café. Use a computer. Download a wallet. Put in your words. Your money is there. Send me your new address."
And just like that, vooma, in less time than it takes to make a pot of tea, Sipho sent his friend some Bitcoin. The friend, in Zambia, paid some of his sats for some purchase in China, because no access to bank, his tribe got banned. The rest he kept, safe in his own pocket that no central authority man could touch.
I just sat there, my finger hovering over the "confirm" button for my stablecoin move. I looked at Sipho.
He saw my face. "That stablecoin you want," he said, lighting a cigarette. "Who holds the dollars for it? Some company in America? What if they freeze it, like the bank in Zambia? You just sent bitcoins—something you can send to anyone, anywhere, any time, with just words on paper—for another man's promise. A promise in dollars. You're not escaping, you're just asking for a nicer chains."
My head was hot. I didn't fully understand. But I saw the power in what he did for his friend. No begging the bank manager. No waiting. Just… open. Secure. Anybody. Anywhere. Any time.
I cancelled the transaction.
It took me long, hey. Months. I had to fight my own mind every day. The price in rands would crash, and my stomach would sink. But I started to think, "I still have my five hundred thousand-whatever sats. Nothing changed with my Bitcoin. Only the rand price tag changed."
That's was the key. The effort. The money it wasn't unstable. I had to become stable. I had to learn to measure value in something else. To store value not in a 'stable' promise from someone else, but in this open, secure thing I controlled.
Thando saw me struggling one day and just wrote on a piece of paper: 1 BTC = 1 BTC. He stick it on my fridge.
Eish, I thought he was mad. What kind of maths is that?
But now, I get it. It's the only maths that make sense. Everything else—the rands, the dollars, the stablecoin promises—it's just illusion. A hungry ghost that always wants you to check the fiat price. My Bitcoin is just… my Bitcoin. It can't be printed away. It can't be stopped. And its value it's in what it is, not what some bank in another country say it is.
The lesson it wasn't in Sipho's words of Sipho. It was in the effort it took my own fiat mind to breaks its chains. Now, when I looking at that number on the screen, I just smile. That's their world. My Bitcoin is in mine.
Alright, listen folks. Let me tell you about my cousin, Sipho. Clever guy, more clever for his own shoes sometimes. He this the one who first told me about this Bitcoin thing. We was sitting here, watching the braai fire die down, and my cousin he's talking about something much more greater than gold, and freedom, and me, I'm just thinking, "How much is it in rand?" Of course because the Zim Dollar had died.
See, that it was my problem from the start. My mind, it only did worked in one way. Rands. Dollars maybe. That's how you knows if you have something, né? You checked the price.
So Sipho, he helped me put a little bit of my money in I did earning from my barbershop. Not much. Maybe four thousand rand. And the next day, I'm checking. It's worth one thousand nine hundred rand! Ag, shame! I'm already lose. I call Sipho, panicking.
"Bru," he says, calm like a Sunday morning. "Why are you checking? It's not a share price. You bought a five hundred-whatever sats. You still have it. Just keep it, use it and earn more of it."
But I couldn't. Every day, me I'm looking. The rand it go up, I'm happy like a lottery winner. It fall, my whole mood it is spoiled. My whole value it's tied to this number on the screen, this rand price. It was worse than watching the stock exchange. At least with those, you can sleeping.
Then one day, Thando come to me with this big idea. "The rand is jump up and down like a goat on a hot plate," he saying. "You need stability. Move some of your Bitcoin into a stablecoin. It's tied one-to-one with the dollar. Safe."
It sounded right, you know? Stable. Coin. My fiat brain love them words. I was busy moving it when Sipho's phone rang. It's his friend in Zambia, in big trouble. The banks there had locked accounts for people from his tribe. No reason. Just can't get his own money.
Sipho don't panic. He just asked the guy, "Do you still has that seed phrase I told you to write on paper and hide?" The guy say yes. "Okay," Sipho said. "Install Tails OS, I told you that day, go to a library, any internet café. Use a computer. Download a wallet. Put in your words. Your money is there. Send me your new address."
And just like that, vooma, in less time than it takes to make a pot of tea, Sipho sent his friend some Bitcoin. The friend, in Zambia, paid some of his sats for some purchase in China, because no access to bank, his tribe got banned. The rest he kept, safe in his own pocket that no central authority man could touch.
I just sat there, my finger hovering over the "confirm" button for my stablecoin move. I looked at Sipho.
He saw my face. "That stablecoin you want," he said, lighting a cigarette. "Who holds the dollars for it? Some company in America? What if they freeze it, like the bank in Zambia? You just sent bitcoins—something you can send to anyone, anywhere, any time, with just words on paper—for another man's promise. A promise in dollars. You're not escaping, you're just asking for a nicer chains."
My head was hot. I didn't fully understand. But I saw the power in what he did for his friend. No begging the bank manager. No waiting. Just… open. Secure. Anybody. Anywhere. Any time.
I cancelled the transaction.
It took me long, hey. Months. I had to fight my own mind every day. The price in rands would crash, and my stomach would sink. But I started to think, "I still have my five hundred thousand-whatever sats. Nothing changed with my Bitcoin. Only the rand price tag changed."
That's was the key. The effort. The money it wasn't unstable. I had to become stable. I had to learn to measure value in something else. To store value not in a 'stable' promise from someone else, but in this open, secure thing I controlled.
Thando saw me struggling one day and just wrote on a piece of paper: 1 BTC = 1 BTC. He stick it on my fridge.
Eish, I thought he was mad. What kind of maths is that?
But now, I get it. It's the only maths that make sense. Everything else—the rands, the dollars, the stablecoin promises—it's just illusion. A hungry ghost that always wants you to check the fiat price. My Bitcoin is just… my Bitcoin. It can't be printed away. It can't be stopped. And its value it's in what it is, not what some bank in another country say it is.
The lesson it wasn't in Sipho's words of Sipho. It was in the effort it took my own fiat mind to breaks its chains. Now, when I looking at that number on the screen, I just smile. That's their world. My Bitcoin is in mine.
Great story. Of course 1sat=1sat. I just found it notable.
End of an era
Time to start a new streak.
Time to buy
Always time to buy. Unfortunately we are moving this month and that has my dry powder pretty dry.
same 🤔