Or, you don’t understand?
A short story.
A bird thumped on the window. Nana paused her presentation to the research board. She sensed the bird’s focus on her, as though it was there to collect a debt. Her supervisor stomped to the window, dragged the curtain. The bird flapped away, reappearing on another window ledge. Her supervisor swiped all the curtains shut. Barricading the bird’s view of the conference room seemed to do the trick. Nana continued, her sole focus on the vacant chair she hoped would be hers someday. The only woman on the board. Someday.
The board members glumly filed out of the conference room after the conclusion of her presentation without acknowledging her. Were they happy? Disappointed? Confused? Could it be that the board members could read the pain she’d tried to hide? Nana yearned for the privacy of her office. The pain that visited her every month humiliated her.
Her supervisor, as always, remained behind.
“I apologise for moving too much,” Nana said.
“Stop looking like you’re about to get sawed in half. We are pleased with your progress,” he said, scratching his neck with his stringy index finger. “Don’t forget how difficult it was to get them on the same page on your appointment. Or you don’t understand? There’s no one in our team, in this institute, whose success I want to see as much as yours.”
“Thank you for your support. I can’t believe that it has been almost a decade since I took over the project. I’ll make you proud.”
He sniffed and nodded.
“Like I said, we are pleased. But, don’t push it. Stick to the deadline. One more year. Great job Nana.”
***
Great job Nana. Despite the accretion of stones in her stomach, her supervisors’ words lifted her back to her office. Deplorable for her body to believe it could weigh her ambitions down. Nana filled her grey hot water bottle, settled on her chair, placed it on her stomach.
The door swung open. Nana jumped. The hot water bottle flopped to the floor.
“Didn’t mean to startle you. I knocked. Three times,” Rakiya said.
Nana hated herself for forgetting to lock the door. Her feet rolled the hot water bottle to confidentiality underneath her desk.
“It’s fine, I was just…”
The stones sharpened into blades.
“Cramps?”
“Do you need something?”
Rakiya laughed and dragged a chair. She gripped the glob on her stomach and sat down.
“I finally got my maternity leave approved!” Rakiya said.
“Oh.”
“Pretend to look happy for me.”
“You don’t look heavy yet.”
“I don’t have to look it to feel it.”
“Aren’t you afraid of getting replaced?”
Rakiya looked at her stomach. “I’m the best at my job,” she muttered. “They wouldn’t dare. Would they?”
“Did you get a chance to listen to the podcast?” Nana asked, tunnelling away from answering her only work friend.
“Couldn’t finish.”
“Rakiya!”
“I’m not listening to some nut job who pretends she’s too passionate to sleep like us mortals.”
“She doesn’t say that!” Nana protested the slander against her favourite podcast host. “Well, too much sleep can be unhealthy.”
Rakiya cleared her throat. “Deny yourself even if you crack? Bleed to succeed?”
Nana hissed. “No point sharing anything with you.”
“If its anything from your guru, please don’t.” Rakiya pressed the arm rest and rose up. “Nana, go home. You don’t look well. It’s okay. Damn what they think.”
Nana realised with a numbing sadness that they both deemed the other pitiable.
“Not cramps. Migraine. I’m going out.”
***
The questioning room spooked Nana. Grey and dreary, unlike the bright potential of the project’s success.
She began the interview sessions with her favourite test subject.
“You look ruffled today,” TS04 said.
“Answer the following questions.” Nana said.
“I wish you were more friendly.”
Nana crafted guidelines for herself, camaraderie with the test subjects was off-limits.
“How are you doing today?” Nana asked.
“Super.”
“What have you been up to?”
“I’ve decided to pursue a different discipline.”
Nana suppressed a smile. The test subjects fascinated her. They picked their own personalities and visions. And soon, with the project’s results, all the women in the country, then globally would be saved. Handed over as toddlers by parents languishing in poverty, and segregated from society’s lethal labels, barriers were non-existent to the test subjects. They had escorted trips around the city though. Otherwise, the shock when they got released would be detrimental.
“Can you define yourself in three words?”
“I’m not a fan of that question.”
“Why?”
TS04 wasn’t alone, other test subjects struggled with the question too.
“I’m a Woman, Muslim, Hausa. I know they aren’t the answers you’re looking for.”
“They aren’t?”
“I mentioned those once, and you returned with a list of acceptable answers: brave, brilliant, patient, determined. It was a long list.”
“You can’t choose any of those words?”
“Can you? I went through my journals last weekend, I couldn’t trace a pattern. I have different moods at different times. My dreams are dynamic.”
“Try.”
TS04 sighed. “Right now, I am reflective, hungry and impatient. A few hours from now I’ll be something else.”
Fresh out of school, Nana’s answers to similar questions on job interviews were kind, team-player, flexible and empathetic. Words that said nothing about her three months after she got a job.
“Moving on,”
The session proceeded smoothly, nothing else stomped TS04. Nana concluded by asking an unapproved question.
“Do you get cramps?”
“Period cramps? Yes. Terrible ones. TS09 feels nothing. So lucky.”
“How do you handle them?”
TS04 scrunched her face.
“You ignore the pain and get on with what you have to do, right?”
TS04 still looked confused. Finally, she laughed.
“I thought you were teasing, I said they were TERRIBLE. I can barely move. It’s not my fault that I have them.”
Disappointed, Nana noted the answer as a deficiency. She was reminded of Rakiya, like her, the test subjects exhibited naivety. The world wouldn’t wait for them because they had cramps or a baby. It was unrealistic to assume it would. Success required perseverance. At all costs. Nana’s perseverance was going to get her bottom on that chair.
“Do we get to read your notes?”
Nana pinched the skin on her nose. “No.”
“You interview us, write your notes. Some funny man with chicken pox circles on his forehead visits, interrogates us again, asks about you. Everyone has their notes, but we don’t get to read anything.”
“What do you mean by a man? Questions about me?”
TS04 intertwined her fingers and pressed them on her chest. She rolled the chair backwards, leaned away from the table separating them.
Nana repeated her queries. TS04 looked like she was about to bolt.
Nana laughed.
“Probably performance evaluation. Very normal. They just want to make sure that I’m doing my job well.”
TS04 let out a long “Ahh,” nodding enthusiastically.
***
Nana drove back to the institute with a rage that boiled from the tip of her toes, rose to her chest, then exploded. The shattered pieces swam back to her toes, accumulated, rose up again.
She stood in front of her supervisor’s office. She wanted to charge in. Confused and scared, she tiptoed to her office. TS04’s words returned to her,
“It’s not my fault that I have them.”
Nana kneeled. She meditated over her supervisor’s good attributes. He had her back, there was a clear explanation for the funny man with chicken pox circles on his forehead. She laughed at what she believed was a misunderstanding, then returned to his office.
“Come in,”
His shoulders fused his phone to his ear. He pointed to a chair on the opposite end of his desk. Nana sat down patiently, periodically glancing at him. He routinely slid the phone away from his ears, rolled his eyes or slapped his forehead. He propped up his phone on the desk, tapped the speaker button and massaged his forehead. A woman was buttressing the importance of an incoming audit review. Nana’s supervisor muted the call and pointed at the phone.
“She’s not making any sense,” he said. “Waste of time.”
Nana nodded as though she understood the context of the call.
He unmuted and challenged the woman to explain the reasoning behind the questions directed at him. She explained her reasons succinctly, but he continued to berate her for her “roundabout reasons.”
Nana had experienced this humiliation before, he once led a laughing session at her expense at a question he thought was silly. He chuckled then apologised, reiterating that he wasn’t being sexist, but it was “interesting to hear the situation explained from a woman’s lens.”
“Our differences, you know, just shows,” he’d said. Nana laughed along with them, then cried into her hands in the washroom. That was a while ago, he was on her side now. He was.
“Nana? Nana?”
He knocked his desk with his knuckles.
“I’m done. Pointless call,” he smiled. “What’s on your mind?”
“I just got back from interviewing the test subjects. There’s a man asking questions about me?”
He clicked his tongue, rolled back his shoulders.
“They weren’t supposed to mention that. You are working on a landmark project. Or you don’t understand? Soon, you’ll be famous. It’s only natural that we’d like to gather data about the project lead. Or you don’t understand?”
“What kind of data?”
“You are different, an amazing talent! So different. Or you don’t understand?”
Nana asked if she could see the notes compiled on her thus far. The rumpled skin on his forehead, the loud disappointment on his downcast eyes, pained her more than the now subsided cramps. Must be the facial expression of a disappointed parent, she thought.
“I’m already distressed that your awareness will distort the data we get going forwards. Let’s keep this between us. Or you don’t understand?”
“I do,” she said and apologised.
“Did you ever meet the previous project lead? I don’t remember her name. No? I did everything to support her, she just wouldn’t listen to my advice, assumed she had all the answers. A shame the way she was thrown…asked to leave. Learn to separate your work from your emotions,” he said before dismissing her. “I thought you were different. Or you don’t understand?”
***
Over the following weeks, Nana battled to chuck out the existence of the funny man with chicken pox circles on his forehead. She struggled to get up in the morning. Struggled to drive to work. She became paranoid that the test subjects would detect a change in her mannerisms. The last thing she wanted was for the funny man with chicken pox circles on his forehead to catch onto her. She couldn’t afford to disappoint her supervisor.
***
Nana’s phone rang at seven am, a frantic voice informed her that TS04 and TS09 were missing.
“I’m on my way.”
Judgement day sprung onto Nana and her team. Their competencies were dissected and questioned. Lessening the extreme security at the facility had been one of her first changes.
“So, this was failure,” Nana thought. Something had dissolved inside her. Her mind was blank, her heart steady and at peace. She opened the door to her office, and found a man waiting for her. He stood with his arms behind him, snooping at the certificates and awards on the wall. He registered her presence only after she coughed.
“Hello!” he said. He sat down before she did. “Let me introduce myself.”
No need for introductions. His forehead was dominated by dark brown and black circles. He introduced himself as a shadow interviewer, a second eye on the project. His Adam’s apple stuck out like a mop handle when he spoke. Nana wanted nothing more than to wield a mop handle in her hands, swing at his arrogance.
“Let me get to why I’m here. You see, I interviewed them yesterday. When I heard about their disappearance, I checked my documents and realised a file was missing. Seeing as you’re the project’s lead, it’s natural that I have a file with your information.”
He said project lead in a tone that suggested he was merely bluffing to a six-year-old. “Just to guide my own understanding of your approach. That file is gone.”
“Okay.”
“I haven’t informed anyone. Yet. I don’t plan to, don’t worry.”
His eyes became shovels, digging into her countenance.
“Why should I worry?”
“Well, you can certainly imagine how the top-ranks might look at it once I inform them about the only missing file. Even so, I am willing to…”
Nana hissed. She stood up, walked to the door and opened it.
“The file went missing under your custody.”
“I’ve heard about your arrogance. No wonder a second, rational mind was required.”
Nana gently closed the door after him. It wasn’t easy: her hands quivered with a yearning to bang it until the frames fell from the wall.
Why did they take her file?
Nana had a hunch. She seized her handbag, laptop, and sneaked out of the building.
***
The security guards in her estate were fortified with principles against interrogating good-looking guests. They confirmed to Nana that they had indeed given access and directed two young women to her house. There was one issue though, Salisu said. The women forgot their wallets, so he had to pay their cab fee. Salisu preferred cash. Nana promised to pay him back.
Twinning in the same orange kampala, the women smiled and waved as though they hadn’t placed her job in jeopardy. Nana waved back, parked her car and led them into the house.
“You live alone?” TS04 asked.
“You didn’t read the file?”
“We only scanned it to get your address,” TS09 said.
“My parents have travelled.” Nana switched on the AC and crashed on the couch.
“We didn’t get you in too much trouble, did we?” TS04 asked.
“We’ll return,” TS09 said.
“Why the drama?”
“You’ve interviewed others three times! Avoiding me. I’m sure it’s because of what I said about that man. He excused himself for a few minutes so I glanced at his files. I saw one with your name, grabbed it. Hid it underneath my clothes.”
“Getting out wasn’t difficult. Quite easy,” TS09 said.
My fault, Nana thought.
TS04 handed Nana a brown file. It was okay if she wanted to go through it alone, they said. She led them to the guest room, then retreated to her bedroom. The file contained notes titled Nana’s deficiencies.
Lacks humility.
Unnaturally resilient.
Frigid.
Too forward.
Conceals her emotions — more possible signs of unnatural characteristics.
All this while, she’d been a test subject too. His notes greatly diverged from her beliefs about the project’s nature. The test subjects weren’t breakthroughs, and neither was she. The main aim of the project, it seemed, was to attribute traits of independence in women as a grave menace that must be strongly curtailed. Nana wasn’t the robust, breathless laughing type, but reading through her deficiencies and the real aims of the project, she laughed until she had to grab a bottle of water from her handbag. Her deficiencies bounced off the file and rotated above her head.
Thorny wreaths garlanded her neck. The feeling of an irreparable loss burrowed into her. What was she to do now? A greater fear broke the hinges. If she resigned, her parents would be upset with her for not sticking it out. Or, repulsed that she had locked human beings for research. Nana beckoned on her fears to swallow her, so she wouldn’t have to explain anything to anyone.
She had always grouped women into two groups, those who were achievers and those who failed to understand they could be. Which group did she belong to now?
“Who am I?” she asked the timid mirror facing her bed.
Nana couldn’t summon the energy to return to work. She instructed TS04 and TS09 to remain in her house, then photocopied the contents of the file. They didn’t argue, her demeanour alarmed them.
“I’ll make sure you get compensated for everything. Somehow. The others will be released too,”
“What?” They both asked Nana.
She was staring at them, her lips trembling. She pointed at the giant thumbprint mark on TS09’s neck.
“Have you always had that on your neck?”
TS09 touched her neck, as though she was looking for biscuit crumbs to brush off. “This? I was born with it.”
“And you,” Nana turned towards TS04. “I thought your ears were pierced.”
“Nana, are you okay? I’m worried.”
“Your ears, pierced or not?”
TS04 shook her head. “Never pierced.”
Nana was bewildered. Had she failed to see them as human beings?
***
Nana drove to the institute after praying Isha. She was one of few employees authorised to enter the premises after working hours, weekends and public holidays. White orb ceiling lights illuminated her steps inside the building. She took the lift to the fourth floor, pushed the conference room door, removed her shoes and kept them aside. She walked barefoot, holding her handbag and the file. Nana dropped the contents in her hands on the U-shaped table, and rolled seventeen chairs away from it, leaving just one. She pulled the curtains aside, unfastened all the windows. Dusty wind whooshed in. Nana returned to the lonesome chair, counted down to one before sitting.
A squeaking bird flew to the window ledge. It kept thrusting its beak, as though it couldn’t believe the absence of a barrier. It flew away. Nana wanted to close the windows, but her feet wouldn’t budge. She sighed and stretched her arms on the armrest. A flock of birds surged in through the windows. They flew in circles, chattering and chirping. One of them deserted the flock, and landed on the table, in front of her.
“Was that you earlier? Did you go back to call your friends?” she asked. “What would you do if you were in my shoes?”
The bird soared away, re-joined its friends. Nana laughed at herself and propelled her body up. Time to go home. She left the windows open.
For the first time, she stopped to look at the wooden frame displaying a group picture of the research board. It took up half of the white wall’s height. “Oh,” she said. “There are women on the board?” She had never noticed them before.
Nana dialled Rakiya. She picked on the first ring.
“Are you okay? Heard a rumour about your project. I know it’s top secret, but are you allowed to tell me?”
The project was top-secret for good reason, everyone involved knew it was a moral grey area. Nana presumed that ground-breaking results at the project’s conclusion would overshadow other, less appealing details.
“Do we have women on the board?”
Rakiya giggled in disbelief. “Tell me that’s not why you called me. Don’t you give presentations to the whole set? You must know the colour of their teeth by now.”
“Are there?”
Rakiya’s voice abandoned humour. “Yes, three.”
“I’ve never noticed them.”
Rakiya refused to end the call until Nana promised they would meet the next day. Her phone rang immediately, as if the caller could see that she was finally available.
Her supervisor’s name on her phone screen roasted her scalp. Frustration shoved mushrooms down her throat. The phone stopped ringing. Nana dropped it on the table, she closed her eyes, imagined she was someone else: someone bold and expressive. She exhaled, breathed in the dusty air as though it was a transforming spirit. He called again.
“Where the hell have you been? Do you not understand our situation? Do you not see how people might misunderstand our intentions? Listen,”
She cut him off. “No, you LISTEN to me, you sexist MORON, I am done with this duplicitous project, you will release the rest of the test-the girls-women to me, I will send a list of my demands later, hold your phone close.”
She said everything in one breath, scorching rashes stuffed her throat.
Nana terminated the call before he could respond. Stacks of terror swaddled her shoulders. Would they cave in to a list of demands she hadn’t even contemplated yet? She felt like a lump of wood, canoodling with a chainsaw.
“We could all go to jail,” she whispered. “We should go to jail.”
She eyed the birds, they all had different coloured beaks, even the lengths of their wings were different. Some of them flapped harder than others. Nana imagined applause from the birds. She enfolded her hands, brought them to her lips, as though engulfed with gratitude.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly, and curtsied.
Nana deserted the file, carried her belongings and ducked out of the conference room.
The birds lingered: flying, chirping and chattering.
