Clockwise

Same time, same place; every day!

The siren yawns for twenty minutes each morning, waking the entire neighborhood as yellow boxes pick students from their homes, driving them to school. It’s the kids I’m worried about most of the time. Mornings are cold, the air is freezing, and they don’t have any choice but go to school.

Nonetheless, everyone needs to do what they must. That’s why I wake up at the same time every day, wear the same uniform, and go to the same place without fail. I don’t go to school like the students I meet each morning; my school is more dynamic and complicated. The goalpost keeps on changing in my field that I have trouble keeping up with the syllabus.

Three years ago, life took me to odd jobs. I was broke and barely had anything to spare for luxury and entertainment. At the time, there was something fishy going on with my body, but my concerns weren’t about health; they were vested in ways to make money and live a comfortable life. Working in hotels and lounges as a janitor exposed me to a lot of realities in life. People always strive to have what they cannot afford because they need proof of concept; they need to know that they can set to achieve something and succeed.

“Looks like we have more work to come this season,” says Anthony, my first employee. We met two years ago after I decided to start a clean-up business. Anthony lives five blocks away from my house, and we meet at JayPor petrol station each morning while showing up for work. “Yesterday I received five calls from potential clients. Some were ready to pay the downpayment and start scheduling for dates.”

“Are they from Kindiki?”

“Only one of them,” parting his lips to smile. We’ve been trying to expand the business to the next town, Urike, but nothing seemed to be working until now.

Dispersing fog around us in laughter, Anthony’s eyes brightened with appreciation; mine too. That is the breakthrough we needed, and finally, things were beginning to steer in the right direction. Up above, a warm and yellow glow featured on tree tops and taller buildings welcoming sunrise before everybody else.

“That’s great! Now we can start the marketing campaigns.” That’s the only thing remaining. The plan is to increase the number of clients in Kindiki while seeking a new market in Urike: They had a bigger population which translated to more sales.

“Make sure we get their email and contacts so that they join our newsletter. They’re the ones to refer our business to everyone they know.”

Buses and personal cars share the same road. There are guardrails next to the road, protecting pedestrians from being knocked off by sliding cars. Residents of Kindiki had enough of the accidents happening on the road leading to the bypass. When it rained, cars would slide while rushing during peak hours. With no pedestrian lane, those unfortunate met their death, others sustaining life-changing injuries.

“I was thinking the same thing too,” adds Anthony, drawing closer to let a car pass. The road to Droklin Enterprises featured an access road to the major highway linking the two towns. The bypass is five kilometers away from my office building. “If we can also ask her what services she used before choosing us, then we’ll know the steps we can take to understand the market.”

That’s brilliant, “Is she among the clients who were ready to pay the deposit?”

“Yes. She wanted us to attend to her needs today, but I told her we were engaged somewhere. We’ll be available starting tomorrow.”

2

Clinging to our shoes, red soil had redecorated our soles. There was a heavy downpour last night making the roads accumulate with mud. But we only had a kilometer left.

An event organizing company hired us to clean up after a party that happened at Jerome Amphitheatre. Mares Adventures had a low budget, lower than what other cleanup services could tolerate, and we were the ones to grab the scraps. We loved feeding off scraps. A lot of money lies on jobs everyone is unwilling to take, and that’s a truth Anthony imparted once when on a job at a company that produced paint.

As always, Anthony and I arrive at the office before anyone. The papers and leftover work lay on the desks as I walk to my desk-space. I don’t have an office yet, and wouldn’t want one anytime soon. Most of the melodrama surrounding businesses is owning assets that don’t really serve the business. Linda, our accountant said, “There’ll come a time you’ll need an office because of your workload. Then, you won’t want the small talk we make in-between office hours.”

Maybe she’s right but right now, we need to take the equipment to Jerome. Normal parties have cups, confetti, empty bottles, and plenty of paper.

“Have you seen the litter-picker?” I ask, waiting for a response from Anthony who stood by the vacuum cleaner, “Are we going to use that?”

“I’m thinking better safe than sorry,” he says, stretching his brows further toward his hairline.

“The picker?”

“I took it outside.”

Droklin Enterprises has three employees including myself. Anthony and I work in the field while Linda also works as our secretary and receptionist when we’re gone. In truth, none of us have official job positions or responsibilities. We do what we can when it calls for it.

Thinking about expanding my business holds enough weight on me. I can barely think of something else. It’s been two years since I went out on vacation. As time goes by, I feel time is running out, and that if I don’t make the business work for me as soon as possible, there will be consequences.

Walking out, I stare at the calendar by the door, then at the board with notes and suggestions on various matters within the office. Everything will be all right.

The amphitheater is five kilometers on the other side of the bypass. Past the dumpster, down the hill, close to the university being constructed. Without a car, we take local riders who drive us to any destination. It’s costly and inefficient considering our ambition of expanding to Urike.

“I think the first investment should be a car,” I say while releasing a note to the rider, “it’ll be less expensive when we start moving around a lot.”

Standing before us, a mammoth of concrete inflated at the sides, giving it a rounded look – almost like butternuts – appeared to be moving. Right in front, three palm trees share the stage alongside styled bulbs and sophisticated lighting.

“I’ve never seen those before,” pointing at the string of lights stretched to the edge of the compound.

“Me too,” agrees Anthony after a brief investigation. “On the car, I think we should wait on that,” slightly turning his head to look at the rider. He hadn’t left after I paid him.

“Are you guys in need of buying a car?” says the rider, maintaining eye contact with Anthony. “I know a guy who is selling an NV200 van. Three years old, and it has all the documentation you need.”

“Who?”

“A bakery owner.”

It’s fascinating how things fall into place when unintended, “Why sell it?”

“Life,” says the man, shoving the note I gave him into his breast jacket pocket. I’ve known him for five months, but I have yet to trust him. He has honest eyes that expel some doubts, and one thing we love about him is he never speaks ill of anyone. Ian likes minding his own business.

Facing him, Anthony pauses on my face for a second, “How much?”

“Five hundred.”

That’s not bad.

“Okay. Let us finish then we’ll call you,” responds Anthony, nodding at Ian. Turning to me, our eyes meet for a millisecond and he says, “If that car is good enough, we’ll have to buy it at around 400 or less.”

“I was thinking three hundred. I know he added a few coins for himself. Plus any coin we can save is worth it.”

3

Walking toward the wooden double doors at the entrance, golden and red confetti scattered on the floor, leading to the fountain before the parking lot. We were inside the compound of the infamous amphitheater. Everyone in Kindiki took pictures when inside that building. It is lavish and state-of-the-art; decorated with Greek pillars and Roman columns. The entrance would let a ground-moving caterpillar truck drive through without much resistance.

“The leaf blower I carried will be handy today,” I say, looking at my wristwatch: Five minutes past eight in the morning. Up above, the sun hid behind the whitish clouds, preparing everyone for a cloudy day.

“Damn this place is bigger than I thought,” exclaims Anthony, visibly excited, “how did they make that?” pointing to a lion statue by the entrance. Its fangs were out, like it is yawning; roaring maybe.

“That looks like those Greek statues from way back,” I respond, reexamining the piece of art. Anthony showed me a little too late to scrutinize it. The fangs and tail are artistically integrated though; including the rock it’s standing on. If it were given color, and other realistic finishes, anyone would be scared.

Nonetheless, both of us knew we had a lot of work waiting for us. The whole entrance resembled the city dumpster. All sorts of bottles, red cups, and throwaway tumblers with leftover fruit juice stained the marble floor; almost blocking the artwork displaying “House of Jerome”.

“That’s why big companies don’t want these kinds of jobs,” assures Anthony, “there’s too much to be done at low pay!”

That’s the system. All those who climbed to the top knew better. Each of them tightened the door after they got to the other side, making it harder for many others to get across. “We work on these for long enough, we’ll get the cash to join the big leagues.”

“Even you know that’s a pipe dream,” counters Anthony. By now, I’ve gotten used to his sulking. It’s like he can’t appreciate anything good that happens.

“A few months ago, we couldn’t afford a car old man,” reaching for his shoulders, “but now, if things go well, we’ll be on our way to owning one!” briefly massaging his shoulders. “Everything is going as we planned!”

“Until it doesn’t; because someone somewhere didn’t get enough as a bribe,” reminds Anthony, “we didn’t get the loan in the first place. The banks said no in the beginning.”

The problem with Anthony is his love for fondling with negative outcomes. Everything is by chance at the end of the day. When you work hard enough, it starts a chain reaction. What goes around comes around kind of thing. No one knows what’ll happen tomorrow regardless of the control and influence they have on this world. I believe that.

“I told you already,” I say, “I can’t wait for the day we’ll be issuing our IPO to the public. The look on your face is what I’ll want framed and hanged in the company cafeteria,” sharing a smile full of hope, “at least believe in the work you’re doing; at least!”

“My time to be energetic and happy is over,” says Anthony, his hands firmly holding the trolley carrying half the equipment we carried. Three staircases lay directly ahead, and there is no ramp.

“The time on my hands is for making sure my kids have something to eat when the day ends. I had dreams and none of them came true. Pipe dreams.” Stopping to take a breath. He places his hands on his waist, exhales deeply, and turns around to pull the trolley instead of pushing it through the obstacle.

“Look at everything around,” continues Anthony. “If the world is really a great place, and people cared for everyone’s well-being; wouldn’t there be a ramp to help people like us?”

“But we’re using these trolleys every once in a while,” I argue, copying his tactic. I also have a trolley of my own.

“I’m also talking about the physically handicapped. How will they navigate in such a building?”

Well, I have no answer, “But …”

Staring, Anthony is waiting for what I have to say and I can’t think of anything. I hate that he’s right because I believe that’s just one side of the coin. It’s not that the world doesn’t care, it does; only that there are … “You like focusing on the negative things!”

“That’s all there is Juma. Evil is all around. Some of it comes in different shapes and sizes. Even now, this job we have is entangled in evil in one way or another. Those that came here didn’t come to have fun and jump up and down. Drugs were shared, and people were hurt; emotionally and physically. A lot of bad things happened here.”

“Good still exists,” I contend, ignoring the embarrassing used bag of semen I’d seen moments back.

“What went on in here?” asks Anthony after seeing the center stage. Strings of paper and colored confetti carpeted the floor, “so much damage!”

“People want to have fun old man,” ignoring the load of work, “People are just trying to make sense of life.”

Hovering his big eyes around, Anthony bit down on his jaws briefly, focusing on the string of seats.

“What’s a movie festival anyway?” he asks, deeply in thought.

“It’s nothing new. People gather to watch the best movies at a given time. Those that are widely accepted. The best movies!”

Standing at the top, everything shrinks toward the center stage, where a large screen is plastered on the wall. By estimate, it would take us five hours to make the place look s good as new. Mare Adventures paid us more than what we’d asked for, five times more, and that’s why we bought the vacuum cleaner after they paid their deposit fee. We didn’t know we’d use it. It was a matter of reinvesting profits into the business.

In preparation to start cleaning, Anthony lifts the vacuum cleaner, separates the bin bags, and hands over gloves and a pair of headsets. “How does alcohol fit?” he then asks, waiting on me to finish unloading my package. I had carried detergents and air fresheners; we once thought that our services should be associated with a particular scent that customers will recognize us by.

“Fun!” I nod severally, “Alcohol is a symbol of fun times.”

Scoffing with a dismissive attitude, Anthony pulled the sleeves on his coverall, “I’d never understand I suppose,” shaking his head while taking the vacuum cleaner. If we don’t buy the car, the vacuum will be our greatest investment in the business. We had a small one before, and then we sold it and bought another one that is ten times more powerful, and worked with bigger and complicated objects like cups, and confetti.

In part, I agree with him. There’s so much evil around. No one grows without being sketchy and manipulative. The world works on give me and I’ll give you too; a transaction of all sorts. That’s how things are because some people also succeed without having to be too sketchy or sketchy at all. It’s a matter of luck and putting in the hard work sets a chain reaction; hard work will pay, and that’s my philosophy.

I was a janitor, and now I’m an entrepreneur; tomorrow I’ll be a business owner.