LONGING FOR DUSK

Juma sat at his desk, back upright, head bent, arms folded over stacks of papers. He was trying to look busy since all his colleagues seemed to be busy too. His desk was a mess; numerous efforts to keep it tidy had failed. Now he no longer had the spirit to try. He longed for dusk to come. The end of the day and the end to his torment.

He was tall, six foot-five and heavy set. The once joyful and vibrant face was now perpetually draped in fatigue. Disappointment does that to a man. He had been a dreamer once, jocular, jovial, and willing to paste a smile on every ones face. He had been warm, the life of the party. All that was left was a jaded silhouette gliding through the motions.

“JJ, boss wants to see you,” Kevin shouted over his shoulder as he went to his desk. Kevin was a fish, fresh out of water. He had the youth Juma wished he could get back. The pure optimism and raw excitement to face the world. The pleasant ignorance of youth that was forgivable. He knew little about life, about how it could turn on you.

“What's her mood like?” Juma inquired as he rose to go to the directors office.

“Dark skies an d thunderstorms.”

“That bad, I wonder what I could have done to make her so mad,” he responded, his statement dripping with sarcasm.

He shuffled to the director's office that was at the top of a flight of stairs. He did not bother to tick in his shirt or straighten his tie. His shoes were not polished and his shirt badly crumpled. The stench of alcohol hung heavily about him. He was a devastating sight.

A photograph of Juma, the director and the president hung on the wall at the landing on the staircase. A young Juma, spry and lively, beaming brightly at the camera. He had received a life time achievement award for having engineered several projects that helped schools and hospitals in semi-arid areas gain water and electricity and landed a contract that made the company more money than they ever believed was possible. That was one of his high moments. He paused, looked at it, sneered,grunted and shuffled on.

The director sat behind her desk. Her face, though deeply lined still had an essence of beauty about it. Her features were set sternly when she looked up. However, the sight of juma was pitiful and she could not help feel a little sorry for him. She knew what had caused the change in him. What had sent him in to despair. What had crushed his hope in humanity and drained his optimism in the world. It was her mistake, a mistake she deeply regretted.

“You have a mother's love, but you are over bearing on him; over protective.” a friend had once observed.

“ I only want what's best for him,” she had replied. She believed it at the time and new no better.

“ A mother's love can be all he needs, but if you are not careful, you will crush the poor fellow,” the friend had warned. This was just after she had come up with the idea to sabotage juma so that he would stay under her wing. The consequences however were more than she had bargained for. They were here with her now and she had to deal with them. She longed for dusk to come, to save her from her torment.

Juma stood just inside the office. He looked at her and felt searing loathing burn his insides. She tried to stare back but could not hold his gaze. Her eyes went back to the letter of complaint in her hand. The latest in a number of citations against juma. She hoped to have him working for her. But a demoralized, depressed and violent individual could hardly be termed as an asset. The board members were not pleased in the slightest. She took a breath and mastered her courage and tried to be stern again.

“ You were in a brawl again?” she said trying to keep her voice even.

“ I am always in a brawl, its my nature.”

“ You know its bad for us, for our donors. The contract states....”

“Forget what the contract states. I know it, I just don't care anymore,” he shouted back, his chest puffing with vehemence, fists tightly balled, eyes reddening with each breath. “They can't police me off the clock and neither can you. What I do on my own time is my own business, and you can't come after me for that. NKT! As if I haven't given enough of me to this retched company.”

A mixture of guilt and exasperation washed on to her face, and for a moment she look like she would give it all up and let him go. She clasped her hands together as she stared at him, all the while questioning her every emotion and instinct. She had been ruthless in her past. Pushed aside and trod over anyone she felt shew could get ahead of. Its the the nature of any entrepreneur of her age: to be cutthroat and selfish. However, with J.J. She had been dogged by her guilt but too pained to let him go. Now their every conversation seemed like walking on shards of glass.

“J.J., I only want what's best for you. I am watching out for you....”

“Really, like you were when you got me arrested, or turned me into the black ship of the industry. The one no one would touch, so that I would keep picking the scraps from you feet.”

Indignantly, she retorted slamming both palms on the face of her desk “You know better than that, you know all I did was to keep you out of prison after you marvelous misfortune was made public. You did that to yourself and I tried to save you...”

“Save that sacrosanct speech for someone who cares,” J.J. Cut her short, this time not shouting, but speaking softly and calmly.

She seemed a little pulsated by the change in his tone and softened a little bit herself. He was silent, and she felt it would be better if the silence hang for a moment or two longer. She studied the signs of depression that were manifest on him. The smell of alcohol and his disheveled look made her feel sorry for him.

“You know J.J., the board is tired of the complaints and they now want bite and not bark. They want to let you go.”

“It wouldn't be so bad, would it?” J.J. scowled as he turned to the door. They always ended up at this crossroads. His will too hardened to accept defeat, too bruised to focus clearly on what was at stake and too bitter to look past it. Her ego to delicate to accept defeat too. Her guilt too heavy to endure these confrontations. Their truce resolved when they went their separate ways.

“J.J. I know you do not believe me, but I care for you. I want you around and I am just trying to look out for you.”

“ You know Boss, even if I wanted too, I know too much. Only the dead keep secrets,” with that he was out of the door.

He went to his desk and sat staring at the mass of papers that lay there. He had the weeks quarter yet to be finished. He wanted to work but he had the strongest urge to have another beer. The entire office had their heads bowed, working or pretending to work on something. He looked them over, let his eyes fall to the papers again. The stash of beer he kept on the roof was so very tempting. It was kept for this purpose: quench his thirst when it grew and now it was pulsing.

He had spent fifteen minutes staring into dead space, contemplating his urge for the bottle and desire to get something accomplished soon. The will for the later was was waning quite fast. The increasing need to tend to the former unbearable. The inaudible whisper was now a resonating scream, deafening to his senses, screeching in his inner ear. He gave in and rose from his desk and headed for his stash.

It was barely noon but in Juma's world, it was never too early to have a drink. That morning, he had delude himself enough to believe that he could last through the day. How thoroughly misguided he had been. Now as he went up the service staircase he thought back on it and laughed out loud. He got to the top and found the caretaker trying to fix a leaking pipe. They exchanged grunts before Juma perched himself on a wicker chair and pulled out the six-pack from underneath it.



“J.J. Niaje kutoa lock saa hii.” the caretaker spoke over his shoulder. “Its early.”



“Not so early, besides I need to get to the end of this day quickly,”