Life In A Ctesiphon

Would Be Easier

Living in Suva, one needs to be something of a juggler to balance one’s budget.

ONE is particularly vulnerable to the numerous appeals— and how poignant they are!— which keep one in a state of chronic insolvency. No sooner have each Christmas and New Year disappeared into the limbo of things forgotten than the lament begins anew.

The calls of religious denomin ations have to be answered accord ing to one’s belief and conscience.

There is an apparently in exhaustible list of sporting bodies requiring public support. There are Clubs of many types—the one serious omission, being, in my opinion, a Club for Home-Lovers —all of which are in dire need □f cash, excepting those which have installed drinking bars in their premises.

Extra Thousands Education needs are important, naturally, and, at least once a year, parents and citizens are asked to support a Fair to raise an extra few thousand pounds.

At regular intervals, eager Scouts and Guides come bob-a jobbing to one’s door, and must be satisfied with a suitable job.

There are, at a rough guess, about 20 other organisations to which one is expected to donate. Almost every day sees a Special Appeal launched to aid some worthy cause, and, of course, there are the sick, the poor and the needy, to whom we are asked to give our money, our reading material, our food, etc.

Having attended to all these items of expenditure, we now look at the pitiful remainder of our income to decide what we can apportion to income tax, rent, electricity, the telephone, the butcher, baker, grocer, milkman, newspapers, insurance, the car and various licences.

And, after giving them some thought, we decide that we really cannot afford any of them, and that it would be easier, in the long run, if we sold everything, lived in a tub or a ctesiphon and

ate grass. (NB. I only mention “ctesiphon” because it is a fascinat ing word to spell, and impossible to pronounce, but sounds more important than a tub.) Another item I forgot to in clude, is clothing—but we must have clothes, so that we shall have something to donate to the Old Clothes Stall. We also need food —to give us the strength to attend the many functions in aid of the aforementioned Good Causes.

Wild Extravagances

I know it’s awful, but we do go to the movies occasionally, and also buy stamps for our letters, and hope that nobody will notice, and criticise, these wild extravag ances.

Honestly, though, balancing the household budget is a real head ache. In my opinion, the time is ripe for establishing a properly controlled Community Chest, to which each citizen shall contri bute, according to his income, and from which needy organisations may draw, according to their needs.

I have a fellow feeling for the Financial Secretary, or whoever manages Fiji’s monetary affairs.

Balancing the country’s Budget must be even worse than balanc ing its household counterpart.

However, the Financial Secre tary has one tremendous consola tion. If he has over-spent his estimates by a few thousand pounds, he can draw up a new heading, and push them nimbly into the column marked “Miscellane ous”, where nobody (except per haps a suspicious taxpayer) would ever think of looking for them.

But just try to fool an inquisitive husband like that!

And now, alas! I find that I have completely overlooked the demands of South Pacific Games (1966), Hibiscus Week, Bula Week, Sugar Week, Banana Week, Coco nut Week, Rhinoceros Beetle Week. . . . Pardon me, I must

retire.-

Lema Low.