Poverty – a story

Election Day

They sat in their poorly lit lounge. SekaMeticulous, Sibanda, with his calabash to the side of his sofa. His wife, seated on the other end, waged war with a doily and Meticulous himself sat on the sofa lap sucking on a nearly empty packet of “LACTO,” with vivid absorption.

A rat scurried across the broken tiles, making a marimba like sound, out of the kitchen and into one of the bedrooms in the dark passage way. It was later joined by another, much plumper, one. It was nearly sunset as the sun’s rays feebly tried to light up the room but to no such luck.

Meticulous’ younger brother ran in, Recount, the red patch on his short waving animatedly as he tried to close the door on his twin sister, Rerun. He conceded defeat after a threat from his mother and he joined his sister on the sofa.

The China-made clock on the television stand ticked with varied notes, drawing occasional attention from SekaMeticulous. His calabash was half done and he feared his ‘refreshment’ would be depleted by the time it was really needed. No problem, there was another one in the bedroom, but then again, that pest, Siziba, would soon come by pretending to be on a social visit just so he could lower Sibanda’s reserves.

“Daddy, isn’t it yet time?”

This was Rerun in her attempt to break the silence. Her father grunted and shook his head. He pondered on how time was so important in his life right now. Six years ago as an election officer for the electoral commission he was offered a salary of 10 billion dollars, he assumed at the time, with the previous record of election results release he would have been paid at the close of the week.

“Yes, comrades, we will pay you at the end of the election period, don’t worry heh… After we have announced all the results…”

The Chief elections officer had bellowed at a meeting with all those involved in the electoral process right after the last votes were counted.

In that 10 billion he had seen 2 crates of his pick of poison; NaMeticulous would get some capital to start her chicken project; they would put a deposit on the television set that the electrician was selling “to defray expenses,” as he had said.

6 years later, he was still sitting, waiting. Bus fare into town was now 80 million, after the reserve bank governor had knocked out another three zeros. Recount had once added that the governor’s office must have been full of zeros from all those he had removed.

SekaMeticulous knew that the 10 billion dollars could not even take him into town but he hoped that the ‘chef’s up there would review it; 10 billion dollars couldn’t even buy the cheap Japanese condoms that flooded the country after the economy further collapsed in 2012. Those condoms, he thought, they were the reason Meticulous had a younger brother and sister; he took out his frustrations on another gulp of beer.

The mono-phonic alarm on the China-made clock let out a beep-beep-beep……beep-beep-bee… before SekaMeticulous saved it from further exhaustion.

“Switch the radio on,” he motioned to Meticulous who was already half way up to run the reques

Over the background of static the news reader delivered the bulletin…

“The news read by Thomas Hamadziripi….
The Azania Electoral Commission, AEC, has said it is still verifying the results of the Presidential poll rerun. This was said by the…”

SekaMeticulous had already gotten up to intercept the reader. “Rubbish!” He clicked his tongue and left the room in disgust.

NaMeticulous stayed behind switching the radio back on so she could hear about the preparations for the president’s 91st birthday. Meticulous wanted to hear if his favourite team won over the weekend, the league champions, Bymo United.

Rerun and Recount just wanted to hear their names being said on the radio. They enjoyed it.

This entry was posted by Sokwanele on Wednesday, October 15th, 2008 at 2:29 pm. You can follow any comments on this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.