Category: forty days

After the Ashes

September 15th, 2016

Maria, I told you that our journey began long before my feet could meet the ground, but I was never prepared for the life of bitterness that followed. The bravest man is the one assured of his death. Wakoli, the village shoe maker was such a man. You never met him, but Wakoli could look at your shoe and stitch it in one motion, but the same hands could not hold a woman’s hand without his knees shaking. It came as a surprise when he suddenly said that he wanted to return to his father’s land. We sat with him as one of his hands went into the shoe and the other the needle, pulling and fastening and fixing. He would speak of his ancestral home. “A man has no friends in this world.” He would pick another shoe, look at it and smile. “You can tell a lot about a man’s shoes. How he takes care of the things that protect his feet as he leaves footprints on the earth. Some shoes speak of love, others, misery, but my Father’s home is awaiting me.” Wakoli was not a day older than your Father, but his back was bent from all the stitching he did. He carried his sack of shoes waiting for his clients to come for them. The sack was old and torn but never did a shoe fall from it. Wakoli was such a man Maria. The wind. He came and went as he pleased. Everyone at home knew him, but even so, he was the only one who saw me beneath the busaa.

No, that is not true, he was one of the few who saw me, your mother- Nyanam, the only woman who could carry ten pots of water and not complain of a stiff neck come dusk. She would laugh and you would believe Heaven was with you. When she cooked, the food would warm your soul, and she never let me sleep hungry. She would come to the busaa den looking for me. “Shemeji, you have to eat what I made today, you know you are the only one who appreciates my cooking, eh? Now how about a few mouthfuls then you can continue quenching your thirst?” When she returned home, your Father would be waiting by the door, his rage ten times his size. She would start singing praises of him. He was her one and only gem. He worked day and night to keep her young. He gave her what she wanted before she even asked. She would sing and praise his looks; his handsome face, strong hands, big feet, big heart and she would go on until your father shrunk back to his size.

PS: Definitely a working progress, let’s see how the story goes.
11/40

August 25th, 2016

If anyone told me that Sunday afternoon that I would be at the office going through proposals with Martin trying to save my job, I would have laughed at them and probably searched for contacts to Mathare Mental Assylum. I know Mathare would have been the stronger thought, but as it is no one tells you when you are about to served a good one.

No one also tells you that the person you get along with at the office is the one who wants you out because your department is a liability. The proposal Nicole wrote was based on the never ending war between Human Resources and Public Relations. It was a case of I can do what you do, and can even do it better. Reading her work was like walking on coals trying to strangle your master who was seated at the end watching you with a smirk on his face. For someone whose job was to be aware of my job description, Nicole was clearly off the mark. Even as I read through her working drafts and reviews of the contributions made by the PR department, I found myself torn between dealing with the matter professionally and pushing her down a flight of stairs.

The spreadsheet detailing the funds set aside for the project I was assigned was attached to the proposal together with a reviewed version she had in mind.

“This is outrageous!” I said.

“What? the fact that she stole the document you accused me of stealing, or that you were having the last supper with your friend?”

“Martin, do you know what this means?”

“What? The proposal or the impending apology from you?”

“Look, now is not the time to play games Martin. I understand that the HR department has the right to look into appraisals and make amendments on certain issues, but this is not just a forty percent slash, it is more like a sixty percent slash because there will be no funds for the marketing department to follow up on the project I was assigned. She is…”

“Saying to hell with your project!”

“Exactly and”

“It is making you mad.”

“Yes, but…”

“That is not all, she is doing this and has got Lillian backing her up, an epic case of HR versus PR with the Board of Directors as an audience.”

“Exactly and would you”

“Stop interrupting you!’

“Yes!”

“Well, I am hungry and the food we ordered is cold. We cannot warm it up because the microwave is in the kitchenette and we do not have those keys.”

“I carried my keys. There is a microwave in my office, but there is a way we can save face because I mean that’s what we do. We make other people look good for a living, so here are some notes I took as I was going through the proposal. Read them and let me warm the food you bought.”

“Yes Boss.”

“Martin, please don’t call me Boss.”

“For as long as you keep dishing out orders, Boss it is, now what duty did you assign me?”

“Please, just take a look at what I noted down, some are weak points in the proposal and they can be sued to make a counter proposal. Others are just ideas I guess, I would love to know what you think.”

“Now did it hurt you to have started with that Marjorie?”

“Whatever, just read them, I will be right back, I am hungry just going back and forth with you.”

“I know, right?”

I was about to add a sly remark but he smiled. He looked better without those brown sweaters.
11/40

August 23rd, 2016

Getting to town from the house on a Sunday was like looking for a signal on my phone while standing in my grandmother’s kitchen. I got a matatu and it stopped every five minutes for people to alight or get aboard.

When I finally made it up the office, it was nothing but sheer luck that had me going or the need to prove Nicole wrong and tell her to back off.

Martin was seated in the conference room. He got to his feet when I pushed the door open and approached the table.

“Thanks Marjorie. I know this is very last minute but I appreciate it,” he said.

“What do we have Martin? Can I go through those proposals?”

“We could eat first before the food gets cold and then work on this.”

“You can start. I will join you. I want to know what HR has as the rationale behind this whole budget cut.”

“Do you want to know it or do you want to know who wrote it?”

“Martin, start eating and let me read a few pages, is that okay?”

“For your information, Nicole was the one who tore the financial pages off your proposal, I arrived in your office in time and sat there just so no one could walk in and take something else.”

“Look, Martin, we have to work out a way of ensuring that our budget is honored and sustained by the funds the organization has and now that HR is gunning for our department, we have to remind them that our work is just as essential as theirs. I wouldn’t mind slashing their budget too, but that would be a bonus.”

“You are welcome Marjorie.”

“Look, I am sorry for seeing you as a culprit then, but the whole apology would come after I have read Nicole’s report.”
10/40

August 22nd, 2016

The Boss called me on Sunday at 2:00 P.M.

I had just finished mopping the house and my knees had become noodles. His response to Jeremy’s idea for a collaboration was ‘just do what needs to be done to make us look good.’ I set the phone on the brown leather chair Dad had bought me.

I looked through my fridge hoping for a different result every time I swung the door open, but magic had ceased to appeal to me. I could go down to Mama Jacinta’s kibanda and get mboga ya ten and stop over by Jose’s shop for two eggs and come back to prepare lunch. Or I could simply make some tea and have the two slices of bread with it. The healthier option would involve adding a tomato to it. The phone started ringing as I was still standing by the fridge hoping to open it’s door once more and see a piece of grilled chicken.

It was the office.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Marjorie, it’s me, Martin. I had to talk to you about something urgent and I knew you would not answer if I called using my number.”

“I might just hang up now that I know it is you. What are you doing in the office on a Sunday?”

“I was working with the Board of Directors on next quarter’s plans. The golf event that I was working on took place today at the golf course so, that’s why I am calling.”

“Okay, how can I help?”

“There is a disconnect between the PR department and HR and Accounts departments. The HR and Accounts do not see the need of what we do and their proposals have come down to a forty percent budget slash and if this gets to the meeting on Wednesday, we might be forced to pull out of the project with The Light Keepers and also consider letting go of two people in our department.”

“Do you have soft copies of the proposals that HR and Accounts made?”

“No. They are in hard copy.”

“How long will you be in the office? Have you had lunch?”

“I had some heavy breakfast at the Golf course canteen but I can order something for us at Tuffoam Mall.”

“Okay, I would appreciate that. I will get there as soon as possible. We can work through this and I think a budget slash on my project with The Light Keepers would not be such a bad idea.”
9/40

August 13th, 2016

Jeremy smiled to himself more than any guy I had ever met. The view was not amusing neither the music nor the company. He smiled as he sipped his coffee, answered a call or stared out the window at the busy road beside the cafe. When I looked at the time by the screen on my phone, I nearly lost it. He remained seated and shrugged his shoulders as though a few dark skies were nothing but bliss to him.

“Hey, I better get going,” I said.

“Sure, where do you live? I could drop you off. Is it within town or out of it?”

“Out of town actually, I live in Lolwe,but I am sure I can get a mat now.”

“I live in Kenya Re so it seems we are neighbors which is great,I will drop you off and then make my way home. Do you like it there?”

“Yes, I actually do. It’s a small cosy place and I have my own gate which makes it easier to access without running into the people from the main house.”

“Why did you choose Lolwe?”

“I like it there.”

“Why did you stay in PR?”

“I think you are doing this just to unsettle me, but I will still insist that I love it. It was not the course I had in mind but I realized I could do it.”

“You could be great at investigation or law, anything that involves little or no talking, but you’d laugh it off now.”

“I still do a bit of that because I have to get to know you and your organization first before introducing you to the people I work for so that’s investigating if not checking you out.”

“I will enjoy working with you, and I can’t wait to see how you handle yourself out there.”

“I am not sure if you are complementing or mocking me Jeremy all I know is that we had better leave so I can get to the house and rest.”
9/40

August 4th, 2016

He reached for the croissant before him, took a bite and wiped the sugar crumbs beside his lips with the back of his hand. I held out the serviette to him. He shrugged and wiped his mouth with the back of his hands again.

I returned the serviette to it’s spot which was on a saucer beside his cup of coffee. He smiled and went for his coffee.

“So, Marjorie, how do you like my life story so far?”

“Was I supposed to pass any judgement on your life story?”

“You are something else you know, but it’s okay. I like where this is going, so tell me when did you decide to go into Public Relations?”

“I did not decide. It was my Dad who did. I wanted to study Sociology but he insisted that I try Public Relations or anything to do with diplomacy because he felt like I had been doing that ever since I could talk. So, I took a course and then advanced it and now it seems to be getting me somewhere.”

“You are your Father’s daughter right? How many siblings do you have?”

” I have two brothers, they all come after me. What about you? How many siblings do you have?”

“Four now, and I mentioned my mom having six kids, one died leaving five of us, so if I set myself aside we are like four! But, enough about me, so how long have you been here in Kisumu?”

“Three years on and off. I would love to hear the rest of the story if you don’t mind.”

“Okay, I will share it with you when we meet but for now I have to ensure you get home in good time. It will be unfair of me to keep you here way into the night, hata kama ni Friday.”

“Sawa that’s fine by me, but I will hold you to it.”

“That’s okay, we can finish up and I will see you off if that’s alright with you.”

“Sure, and listen Jeremy, thanks for giving our organization a chance. I hope our partnership would be a great one.”

“We’ll see.”
8/40

August 3rd, 2016

“You say that I like being in control, but that is exactly what you have been doing since we met,” I said.

“If that is what you think then let it be. I will not argue with you on it, but I insist that you spend a week with the team of LightKeepers. You will learn more about what we do and it might help you get creative in how to impact the society as an organization.”

“So, does that mean that you are against cheques?”

“No, I love cheques. In fact, receiving them is much better than writing them, but what does it say of the one who writes it? Most of the challenges we face need our engagement. I might buy clothes for the homeless or build them houses, but what good would that do in the long term? If I can engage them to understand their weaknesses and strengths, and also to know what their needs are, then I stand a better chance of helping them.”

“So, you believe that my participation is the kind of thing that is needed to come up with an action plan for my boss?”

“See, you are smart.”

“You are still bossy. Why did you start your organization?”

“Do you need the long version or the edited version?”

“I need the version you are willing to share now.”

“Sawa, so, I grew up in a family of six. My Mom was the third wife. If you don’t know what that means, allow me to spell it out for you. It meant that her cries were not heard. It also meant that we were the extra mouths that our father had no time to feed between his ego and athritis. He died when I was ten. My mom and all of her six children were kicked out of the home because she could not forge an alliance with either the first or second wives. We walked for two days to her ancestral home. When we arrived my youngest sister died of hunger and thirst. Three days later, my mother started sweating in her sleep and vomiting. She died of Malaria or as the villagers loved to say ‘tuo marach.’ We also had this disease and as such we ate only after everyone had eaten. My brother left every morning to dig and weed in people’s farms so we could eat. My elder sister cooked and cleaned and never missed a day of school. My Grandfather sold his bulls to pay for our school fees and he would ensure we had enough kerosene to keep our lamps on as we studied into the night.”

“How is that so far?” he asked, his eyes trained on me, but even as I set my cup back on the table, the words could not come out of my lips.
8/40

August 2nd, 2016

Jeremy was seated by the window. His eyes faced the window overlooking the road. His back was to the coffee house. If he moved an inch to his left he would spot me ascending the stairs wiping the sweat off my brows. He was in the same washed out jeans with a white T-shirt. He pushed back his chair and got to his feet when I approached the table.

“Hey, thanks for coming.”

“We had an agreement and I could not go against it, even though I was heading home too exhausted with this week’s work. Tell me, how have you been and what do you have to say about the proposal I shared this Monday?”

“Can we get something to drink first and then talk? Or are you always strict about getting business out of the way first?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Relax, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, it is better to know the people you are dealing with outside the written contracts and office walls. But, I wonder, why did your organization send me three different takes on what we had discussed? Do I get to choose what we can do out of the three or am I allowed to combine the three?”

“Three proposals,tell me whose proposal stuck with you?”

“Your proposal did because you met me and shared the idea first but Nicole and some lady called Vivian just sent me a document with lots of numbers.”

The waiter’s arrival with our drinks gave me time to choke Nicole in my head.

Nicole. She was keen on having this done her way,but what was it about this project that had the attention of the HR? Did the boss share the email he sent me with every department? Turning these thoughts in my head added to the grief I had all day. Nicole.

Nicole. My friend.

“Ni nini? What are you thinking of like that or are you still bent on getting those earrings at Woolworths?”

“Ai,no! I think I will get something else some day maybe. I was not even thinking about that.”

“How bad can it be? Do you have a roof over your head?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have food and water and a warm bed to sleep in?”

“Yes, where are you going with this?”

“See, you Marjorie, like being in control. You want to know everything and prepare your reaction towards it all. Life is not like that, and I have seen children who have not even touched soap in their life. They eat like vultures and their hands are bent because of all the begging they do, so that’s where I am going with this. Can you take a week off work and see what my day is like? There are other community volunteers who would take you around the homes during their visits so you have an understanding of what LightKeepers are like.”

“I will see what I can do.”

“No, you do it, besides I have a feeling that you will like it. But, tell me, did you ever go to Victoria?”

“Primary? Yes, why?”

“I knew it the first time we met, but that’s a field story. Now we talk about general stuff like what your favorite color is and your hobbies and things like those. I will email you details of my amendments on Monday.”

“Are you the sole decision maker in your organization?”

“I founded it and I make some decisions but not all. And no, mimi si kama wewe, I am not stubborn. Siko serious twenty four seven, binadamu hucheka saa zingine.”
7/40

July 29th, 2016

There were two things I knew to be true about the organization I worked for; employees were hired and they were fired. What you did between the “congratulations, you’re hired,” and “you’re fired!”is all that mattered. If you were wise you ensured that forty five percent of your monthly salary went to an emergency account. Everyone showed up to work by nine o’clock in the morning and left by six o’clock in the evening.

The organization occupied two floors. One floor had forty five employees. The one above it had fifteen. The forty five knew everything that happened in both floors thanks to an active switchboard and two receptionists who valued office drama over being overworked. They are the ones who started drumming up a possibility of Martin and I dating. It was no surprise when Evans called me to ask what the thing with Martin was all about. I hang up and wrote an email. I sent it to all the departments ensuring that the boss was the first to receive it.

I stared at the desk phone until 5pm.

The desks were vacant as I made my way out of my office to the reception. The people whom I met along the way did not make use of their mouths like I’d hoped. I waved at some, smiled at two and ignored the rest.

I walked to the elevator. I pressed the button and waited. We were on the seventh floor. When it came to a halt on our floor and the doors opened I came face to face with him. Martin. It was twelve minutes or so past five. I had to get home by seven and do laundry. After a few thoughts I stepped in and clutched my bag close to my ribs.

“Listen, I wanted to come talk to you about everything. I am sorry,” he started.

“What are you sorry for?”

“Everything. Look, can we put this behind us?”

“Can you put that into writing and copy the HR?”

“Um, is that necessary? I mean, if you think that would help then it’s okay.”

“Do that then.”

“What is your problem? I’m being nice about this and you dish out orders?”

“Martin, I asked you to write a formal letter of apology because from where things stand what you did was neither professional nor ethical. I do not know how much of it is an order, but I am good at what I do and I work hard. You do not get to take credit for my work, and if you think that talking to me in an elevator is an apology then you are neither remorseful nor considerate.”

“Look!”

“Have a good evening Martin. In your apology be sure to mention that you tore two pages off the budget prepared by finance that was on my desk.”

“Wait! Now you’re accusing me of theft?”

He was about to take a step towards me when the elevator came to a stop. I stepped out as soon as it stopped my feet leading me as far away from him as I could get.
5/40

July 26th, 2016

Nicole’s idea of lunch was a full plate of chips, 1/2 deep fried chicken, and a litre of Coke.

I had a serving of bhajia and bottle of water. She looked at my tray and scrunched up her nose. She reached out for a piece of bhajia and dunked it in the pepper I had. I pushed the pepper towards her. She dipped her index finger in it and licked it like mama Josephine’s brown cat. “You can have the pilipili if you want.”

“Ai, no, I will use my tomato sauce and chilli, but that bhajia pilipili is fine! You know like the hot young kids who cannot even spell Curriculum Vitae! And aki you won’t believe me when I tell you the things we go through trying to recruit people for these people who drive Range Rovers and write cheques like someone sending an sms!”

“What do you go through? Is it as worse as PR? Where I have to find out which buttons to push to seal corporate deals and the like, and worse off write statements or sweet talk journalists not to print or publish some nasty pictures that could lead to divorce or worse off death of the big guys?”

“But at least you can bribe people! You get rid of the problem. We have to prevent the problem from getting into the company. It’s like trying to prevent a virus from shutting down your computer, now if those IT guys can take years to do it, imagine a mere girl like me from Ukambani, with skinny legs and a great skin trying to say, ‘dear’ instead of ‘ndear,’it is a crime I tell you! People should not suffer like this.”

“Ghai, pole! You have to work though, no one forced you to study human resources.”

“Ouch! If I wanted an exorcism I would have called my Mother, now nipe hiyo pilipili before you take away my appetite. So, how are you with Martin?”

“I have not spoken to him and I don’t want to.”

“Aki, it’s that bad?”

“It is what it is. Tell me what should I do, from the HR angle.”

“You can file a complaint so we can give him a warning, or you can ask for a refresher training course on his job description, but let’s be honest Marjorie, what if there is more to this than meets the eye?”