ONE FRIDAY MORNING IN JANUARY

A MORNING that brought something new in Dravid’s life in an unexpected way.
Dravid had left home on the West Coast in Windsor Forest Village at 4:30 in the morning, heading to the East Coast, where his machines had been working throughout the night. He was a young contractor on the road expansion projects, following in his father’s footsteps.

From a young age, he had been on many work sites with his father while pursuing a degree in engineering. By the time he graduated, he had gained a high level of practical knowledge. He began working with his father, and after eight years of invaluable experience, he made his first bid as a contractor. Now, he was his own boss, having won a bid for one of the smaller contracts in roadworks.
“Congratulations, son,” his father had expressed proudly.
“You put heart and soul into this work, and you have gained a just reward.”

“Thanks, Dad. I couldn’t have done it without you, though. You gave me the start I needed.”
However, the projects came with challenges that he always had to be mentally prepared to tackle head-on. One of those challenges that had been affecting his project deadlines was a shortage of labourers. Now that the holidays were just over, the situation was worse. He had been paying scouts good money to recruit able-bodied men from villages on the East Coast, but he wasn’t getting the numbers he wanted. Not sure the men were making a good effort, he decided that starting this morning, he would accompany the scouts in recruiting labourers.

“There are times,” his father had advised him, “when you really need to get something done, you’ve got to do it yourself.”
Dravid turned into a street at Martha’s Ville from the directions he was given, but no one was there waiting for him.
“I wonder if I’m on the wrong street.”

He drove to another street, still seeing no one, and stopped by a flamboyant tree at the end of the road, not quite comfortable being in a strange area so early in the morning.
He called the person who had given him the directions.
“What happened, man? Where are you?”
“Ah dey hay waiting fuh yuh, boss.”

“And where is that? I’m in the street you sent me.”
“No boss, yuh got de wrong street.”
Dravid swore quietly, “How the hell did you give me the wrong directions?”
“Wait right deh, boss. Me and Andre coming tuh yuh before yuh guh wrong street again.”
Dravid swore again and exited his 4×4 Toyota Hilux to avoid looking suspicious as a strange vehicle parked there. It was a quiet neighbourhood with simple but neat little houses, mesh and picket fences, wooden bridges, flourishing fruit trees, and blooming flower gardens.

“The simplicity of life,” Dravid mused, “that modernity hasn’t yet touched.”
As he looked around, one of the houses right where he was parked seemed to have a magical pull on his senses. It was smaller and quite charming, with a white picket fence, flowers in the garden in a riot of colours, and a bird bath that seemed to be from the colonial days. By the gate was a neat little shop. As he stood there waiting for the scouts, he saw a young, slim African woman in a simple floral dress with her hair wrapped in a bun. She came out of the house with food boxes, placed them on the counter, and made a couple more trips to bring out more. Suddenly, people in cars and on bikes rushed in to pick up the food, which seemed to be special orders.
It was then Dravid realised how hungry he was, having left home so early without even a cup of coffee. She noticed him standing there, a strange man, and asked in a pleasant tone, “Are you here for something?”
“No, waiting on two guys.”

She smiled slightly, went inside, and came out with more boxes and a tray with cups of coffee.
“Now that I can have,” he said to himself, but before he could ask her for coffee, his phone rang.
It was his father, wanting to know where he was and what he was doing. They spoke for a while, and by the time he was finished, his two scouts had arrived, and all the food and coffee were sold out.
“Damn,” he swore, “This is really not my morning.”
He was about to leave when she came forward a little, holding a tray with a food box and a cup of coffee.

“I kept this for you.”
“That’s really nice of you,” he said thankfully.
“You looked hungry.”
“Yes, that is so.”
“And frustrated.”
“And that too.”

“Why don’t you sit, calm down, and eat something? You’ll feel better.”
“Okay, that’s really nice of you.”
The breakfast of cheese sandwiches and chicken puffs was quite fulfilling, and paying her with a five-thousand-dollar note, he told her to keep the change.
“That’s too much change to keep.”
“No, it’s nothing because you were kind to a stranger.”

He left feeling better, a smile on his face, and the day went well after that. More labourers than he needed showed up, and he employed them all.
“A Friday morning in January to remember,” he said to himself.
Weeks went by as he pushed with the project to avoid falling behind the deadline. He didn’t have to return to the village to source labourers, but he couldn’t stop thinking of the pretty young woman, her pleasant voice, and her demeanour.
After a month, when he had to be on the road early again, he drove into the village, remembering the cross street, and stopped by the beautiful little house. No one was there except for a dark Lexus SUV parked outside.
“Maybe she’s not working today,” he deduced and was turning to leave when a deep, heavy voice stopped him.

Dravid turned around and saw a tall, well-built African man with a heavy gold chain around his neck and rings on his fingers.
“What are you here for?”
“Damn, who is this?” he asked quietly and answered the man casually, “Breakfast.”
“She doesn’t cook and sell food when I’m home,” the man stated.
“Okay, thanks for letting me know. And who are you?”

The man gave him an angry look.
“You don’t know who I am?”
“Well, no,” Dravid answered coolly, “I’m a stranger here.”
“I’m her husband,” the man informed him with an angrier look, flexing his muscles. “Just remember that.”
“Okay,” Dravid responded, unfazed by the man’s aggression. “Guess I’ll buy breakfast somewhere else.”

As he drove off, he wondered about the young woman. The man seemed brutish, while she was gentle.
“How did she end up marrying a guy like that?”
Three more weeks passed before he dared to go back into the village. The SUV was gone, and stopping, he saw her selling her food.
“Well, that’s a relief,” he said, waiting until everyone was gone.

She once again kept a box of food for him and a cup of coffee. That morning, breakfast was roti and pumpkin with shrimp. He looked at her, somewhat surprised, and she responded curiously,
“What? A black girl can’t cook roti?”
“I didn’t say anything,” he said flustered.
“Well, your expression said it.”

“Sorry about that,” he apologised and enjoyed the breakfast with an extra roti and a second cup of coffee.
“You’re quite hungry,” she said.
“Yep, I’ve been working non-stop for the past four days.”
As he paid her, he observed that she didn’t look quite as happy as when he had first met her, and he asked, a little concerned, “Is everything okay?”
She sighed and answered after a short while, “Yes, I’m fine.”

He knew she wasn’t telling the truth but didn’t pursue it. Instead, he told her, “I was here last month but you weren’t doing your business, and I met a guy who was somewhat angry.”
She sighed again, “He’s like that to everyone, a very jealous person.”
“I guess I’d better leave before he returns.”
“It’s okay. He has gone back in the bush and should be back in another month.”

Dravid thought for a moment before saying to her, “You know, we are both strangers to each other, but you seem like a really nice person. If at any time you need help or want to talk about something that’s bothering you, I can make the time to listen.”
He handed her his card and said, “You’re free to call me any time.”
She took the card hesitantly and teased slightly, “Wouldn’t a strange girl calling you get you in trouble?”

“Nope,” he answered with a smile. “I’m not married.”
She smiled and teased, “Eligible bachelor!”
“Yep,” he smiled and left.
He came for breakfast for two successive weeks, and they chatted as he ate. They were strangers no more.
“You can cook very well,” he complimented her.

“A family inheritance,” she told him.
“And this beautiful little house, it kind of suits your warm personality.”
“Thanks.”
“I find it somewhat strange, though.”
“What is that?”

“If your husband works in gold mining and seems to be doing well, why is he living here with you in a little house?”
“He is now building his own house on the East Bank.”
“So, you’ll give up your business and move there?”
“Something like that.”

He looked at her and after a short moment, said, “You don’t sound happy.”
She took a deep breath and, after a long moment, responded, “It’s not what I really wanted.”
“What do you want?”
“We can’t all have our dreams,” she replied, not answering his question.

He realised it was something deep she was battling with that she didn’t want to talk about. Taking his leave, he told her, “I hope when I stop by next time, I can see you smiling.”
She tried to smile but didn’t quite manage it. Somehow, it touched his heart that she was unhappy.
Three weeks later, after a business trip overseas, he returned to see her. She wasn’t there, nor was the SUV. He stood there a little, and as he turned to leave, he heard a voice calling him softly.
He turned back and saw her at the door, her face bruised and one eye black and swollen.
“What the hell…” Dravid exclaimed in shock.

To be continued…

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