Book of life

The library doors slid open as Panganayi arrived. He had to time it precisely; otherwise, someone might notice. A trickle of people came in, the eager beavers, including a mother with a pushchair who went straight to the counter to pick up her book on reserve. A pupil in school uniform playing truant from school came in to complete his Literature homework. Panganayi, a regular, headed straight for his favourite spot by the newspaper and magazine stands. None of the library staff had the heart to question why he came in so early every workday, like clockwork. They, however, could predict that he would sit by the radiators in winter and sometimes snooze, away from the cold and sleet, then instinctively wake up when his snoring got too loud.

He watched the librarians, busy cataloguing books from the day before, great piles which had come through the shute overnight. Panganayi concealed his old rucksack under a table before retrieving a dog eared book from under his coat and putting it back on the shelf. As he turned around, Panganayi came face to face with a formidable woman who eyeballed him as he tried to sidestep and leave the library.

Mrs Baiberi, the chief librarian, loved books and had been one of the longest-serving staff members in the county library. Mothers told their children she had been there since the place opened after a grand ceremony by a mayor long deceased and remembered only through a nondescript defaced grey plaque near the main entrance.

"I know you are a regular, sorry I don't know your name," said Mrs Baiberi looking curiously at Panganayi.

"My name is Panganayi. I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Who said you had? I can already see that you want to admit something. Is there anything you should tell me?"

"Nothing. I haven't done anything wrong."

"You probably don't realise it, but we now have CCTV cameras here, and we have been observing you the whole week but were too busy to catch you at it. The book you've just returned to the shelf, did you borrow it through the formal channels?"

"No," said Panganayi evasively. 

"People usually return books either through the chute or hand them over to us. In your case, you've been putting that particular book back in the morning and taking it out before closure. Would you like to explain yourself?"

Panganayi withdrew the book from the shelf and gave it to Mrs Baiberi, who handled it like a soiled cloth.

"I wanted more time to read it. I have been taking it home."

"'Career paths for veterans after leaving the Armed Forces.' Why not borrow the book like everyone else?"

"I don't have a home address anymore. Life just went pear-shaped after I left the forces. I live on the streets, and I would never pass your test to become a member."

"So why not read it in the library? You come here daily, from what we can see on the CCTV."

"I can't read very well without glasses. They broke some time ago. A friend of mine helps me while I take notes."

"Why not bring the friend to the library? Anyone can come in as long as they abide by the rules."

"I've tried persuading him to come in and failed. You're not going to ban or fine me, are you, because I have very little money apart from my disability payment."

Mrs Baiberi could see that the conversation would take time, and she had other things to do.

"Come tomorrow with your friend, and we will sort something out," she said as she returned the book to the shelf and left.

The following day as the doors opened, Mrs Baiberi spotted Panganayi heading straight to her desk. He was alone and approached hesitantly. He had spruced himself up in a washroom at a local hotel and wore a faded clean shirt buttoned over an old tee shirt with an indecipherable message. After being homeless and staying in hostels for a year, he sometimes felt he had forgotten how to be himself. 

"What happened to your friend? He's outside?" Mrs Baiberi peered over Panganayi's shoulder.

"I've tried to explain your offer to help, but he refused to come in."

Mrs Baiberi closed her computer screen and headed to the main door with Panganayi en tow. Near the main steps sat a man on the only park bench. Mrs Baiberi could see why the friend had hesitated to come in. There was no other way of describing him; he looked like a down and out tramp. As she approached, a pungent smell reeked from his clothes. He and water were not friends. Mrs Baiberi, after introductions, led them back into the library. She could see her colleagues looking at the procession with expressionless faces yet dying of curiosity. 

She led the pair to a side office. "There's no reason why you can't also benefit from the library facilities like everyone else. You will be more comfortable in this room. You can't borrow the book since you are not members, but you can use it here. Let me know whether you need any further help."

Panganayi retrieved the book and sat down next to his friend. Till the closing time, they were immersed in scribbling away in a rather grubby notebook and speaking in low murmurs. At closing time, Panganayi left with a sense of achievement mixed with despondency. How was he going to start the next chapter?

On returning a few days later, he sought out Mrs Baiberi.

"Thank you very much for your help a few days ago. I've hit a brick wall. I feel as if all the advice in this book is wasted on me! Since leaving the army, my family has broken up, I have lost my home. What chance do I have of getting my old life back? I want so much to get a job, my pride and my family back. The book can only help so far. Look at my clothes! Who would hire me if I walked in looking like this? If I could regain my self-confidence, I'm sure I can succeed. But, how?"

"Tell me a little about yourself. What you have gained from this book? Then we can take it from there."

Panganayi narrated how he had served in the military in various locations and was discharged on medical grounds. The book had opened hopes of a new life if only he could get a job with his current qualifications. He had left school, went straight into service and knew no other life.

"I don't know much about the military, but what I do know is that you must have acquired some skills which I am sure are marketable," said the librarian. "You have far more experience than the average man in the street, in areas of discipline and teamwork, for example. You could make a fresh start with your educational background. I am not a career adviser, but I'm happy to listen."

"The book mentioned that veterans could even use their training in conflict resolution and self-defence. But with my poor eyesight, could I work in the security industry, for example?"

Mrs Baiberi smiled, "You're your own worst enemy, Panganayi. These obstacles you mention are not insurmountable, such as an eye test and a new pair of spectacles!"

"I have lost faith in myself, being an outcast from being a hero," said Panganayi.

"Unfortunately, as civilians, we don't always know how difficult it is to reintegrate into society. I have heard about the high rates of depression, PTSD and even suicides, never mind disabilities, among the returned soldiers. We easily forget you fought to protect us. I should know. My brother was also in the armed forces."

Pangayani could sense his self-help motivation was waning and said, "I read about being a truck driver, and I have that experience. Life in the armed forces allowed me to travel, which I love. I suppose I could do something along those lines."

"True. Have you also thought about taking a course? You sound like an intelligent man. Perhaps part-time studies where you can reinvent yourself, using our library facilities?"

Quick to respond, he said, "Training on the job, yes. Back to school, no! I didn't enjoy it the first time round! But I do have to make a living if I am to get my family back. I have to show them that being down and out is not permanent! I also read about jobs in law enforcement and firefighting. Anything in uniform is perhaps worth a try."

"You sound as if you are now spoilt for choice! I can connect you with organisations that help job seekers in your circumstances. They even organise appropriate clothing and give interview coaching. Appearances do affect one's chances of getting a job offer."

"I skipped the few chapters about interviews, feeling I was getting ahead of myself," said Panganayi. But you know what, my luck could be turning!