The Supermarket
‘A double,’ I said to the barman. ‘The usual will do!’
‘And the same
for me!’ said a voice behind my ear.
I turned round
like a flash to see who was seeking
subsidy from my meager resources. ‘Fintufingi Bantubonse!’ I exclaimed. ‘I
haven’t seen you for years! What are you doing nowadays?’
‘Still teaching
statistics at UNZA,’ he said sadly. ‘Every year I’m a year older, and every
year my teaching notes are a year older, but every year the students are the
same age.’
‘I thought you’d
be drinking at Crapsodys, not here at the Anzac Arms! I laughed. ‘I know you
could retire if you wanted! Isn’t it your family that owns Bantubonse
Supermarket? Must be a little goldmine!’
‘That’s all you
know,’ said Bantubonse sadly, as he gulped his brandy. ‘Unfortunately all my
money is in your imagination. When my father died he left the shop equally to
all his children. We thought we were only three, me and my two sisters. But at
the funeral, another seventeen turned up!’
‘Oh dear, I am sorry,’
I said. ‘Funerals can be so upsetting. But even so, a five percent share of the
profits must come in very handy. A nice little money-spinner like that! Cheat
on the VAT! Cook the books for the ZRA! Nice little house in Kabulonga! Drink
yourself to death on cognac! What a lovely way to go! How I envy you!’
‘How little you
know, Kalaki. All I have is a five percent share in a very large overdraft.’ A
tear rolled down his cheek and into his glass, further polluting the filthy
mixture of industrial alcohol which Duncan Gilbert and Mortuary presume to call
brandy.
‘My dear fellow,’
I said, putting my arm around his shoulder, ‘what happened?’
‘It all began
four years ago,’ he began, ‘when we appointed a fellow called Nyamasoya as
Manager. He seemed to be a very pleasant fellow. Very experienced in business.
He had once run his own company.’
‘What happened
to his company?’
‘That’s what we
forgot to ask.’
‘So things began
to go wrong?’
‘Terribly. He
bled us dry. He employed all his own relatives as shop assistants, and they
were all thieves. We found out too late that he was into all sorts of deals. He
would buy stuff from the Chinese at a high price and then sell it at cost
price. We only discovered later that he was getting a twenty percent back-hander
under the counter.’
‘So you fired
him?’
‘Of course. But
not until he owned twenty mansions on the Leopards Hill Road, and we owned a
twenty billion overdraft at the National Ripoff Bank.’
‘So you employed
somebody else?’
‘Fellow called
Super Chilufya.’
‘Why him?’
‘To get rid of
the dreadful Nyamasoya.’
‘No, I mean why
did you choose Super Chilufya?’
‘He was the only
applicant. Very old, far beyond retirement age, but we had no choice.’
‘What was his
previous occupation?’
‘Business
consultant.’
‘Oh dear,’ I
said. ‘But he promised to put the business back on its feet?’
‘His promises
were marvelous. Everything would be back to normal in ninety days. He promised
to get back the stolen money. He also promised that he would employ relatives
of the shareholders as his shop assistants, that he would get rid of all the
street vendors outside the shop, and that he would prevent the Shanghai
Supermarket from stealing all our trade. He even promised that he would make
enough profit to pay the school fees for all the shareholders’children, which
presently number one hundred and thirty-four.’
‘More money in
your pockets!’
‘Exactly!’
‘And has he kept
his promises?’
‘Far from it! He
has closed the shop!’
‘What! Closed
the shop! Why!’
‘He says that
the first priority is to get back all the stolen money from the previous
management. So he has sent all his new shop assistants to dig in the gardens of
the previous shop assistants to see if they can find any Chinese bicycles
buried in their gardens.’
‘So at least he
did appoint the new shop assistants!’
‘Oh yes, he did
that alright. But only from amongst his own friends and relatives. Most of them
are very old and doddery.’
‘I’m still not
clear why he had to close the shop.’
‘He says he first
needs recover the stolen money to use as working capital to re-stock the shop.’
‘So no money to
pay your children’s school fees?’
‘No, and school
fees are going up.’
‘And no money in
your pocket?’
‘We’re being
bled dry by the overdraft, which is increasing every day.’
‘And has he
cleared away the street traders?’
‘Since the shop
is closed, he says that they might as well stay where they are.’
‘And what about
the Shanghai Supermarket?’
‘It’s doing a
roaring trade. They’re exporting dollars to Shanghai by the million.’
‘And what does
Super Chalufya do all day? Does he just sit in his closed shop?’
‘Oh no. I’ll say
one thing for him, he’s always very busy. He works hard collecting
the evidence against the previous management as the basis for making detailed allegations
at various police stations.’
‘What was the
job of this Chilufya before he became a business consultant?’
He he he, kALAKI is hilarious.....
ReplyDeleteawe ba kalaki naimwe.......lets give a chance......bt its really a gud satire n our leaders need this 4 sure.
ReplyDelete