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Copyright (c) 2016

Author: Lionize

This is the first work of the author in this form (the tense). Please feel free to criticize constructively, correct in love, and encourage the author.
Enjoy!

THE WET STRAND
*****************
It is a sunny Thursday. Isioma walks out of the bathroom combing her hair with a wide tooth comb. She has overcome the forced phobia of getting water into her hair since she turned natural. She now moves around with a deeper sense of pride. She is relieved that she no longer has to strive to make her hair look like foreign women with relaxer and other chemicals. She is proud of her hair. She is proud to be an African woman.

Isioma struggled for years. She struggled with her self-esteem. She was meant to believe, while growing up, that the only way to go was to keep her hair like others- relaxed. She came to believe that anything else short of that was ‘old school’, or ‘Anuty youngie’. She looked at any female without relaxed hair as such, save for those of school age. But as time passed, it dawned on Isioma that this was simply an imitation that caused her more harm than good.

At one time, she left too much relaxer on her hair for too long a time, and she turned bald after the ordeal. It was most traumatizing for her as she struggled to repair her burned scalp while covering her head with a scarf permanently. Some people who knew her assumed her new dress code was as a result of a new found faith. Some would even ask, but she did nothing but smile and wave at them. She prayed earnestly for her hair to regrow so it would answer for itself.

Her phone rings while she applies SheaTome on her hair, with gentle strokes that give away how much she cherishes it, like a pampered child. She picks the call.

“Hello” she says.

The call is from her friend Nike, who tells her of a new product on afrihap.com. Isioma turns on the computer on the desk immediately. She types ‘www.afrihap.com’ in the address bar of a web browser after the computer boots. She smiles while browsing through, occasionally dabbing the tips of her hair with a yellow hand towel. She glances at the clock hemmed into a wooden artwork on the table. She is almost running late for her date. She places an order for the new product and shuts down the computer.

Isioma starts racing against time as she dresses up on a pink buttoned top on black knee-length skirt. She wears a light make-up, arranges her personal female effects in her bag, steps into a black pair of high heeled shoes and takes a looks at herself on the huge mirror clipped to the door. She is satisfied with what she sees. She spritz her hair with the new perfumed formula she learnt how to prepare from Winnie’s show on tv . She lets the hair fly as she rounds the edges with an elastic turban she had purchased on afrihap.

Isioma navigates her way through some bad roads, shunting off roads inundated with heavy traffic she could. She arrives the appointed venue soon after the appointed time.

Isioma steps into the restaurant with her left hand curved to keep her bag in place. She removes the sunglasses to have a clearer view of the environment. Tammy stands up from a chair at one end of the large eatery and his form caught her attention. She walks towards him, carefully choosing her steps. She radiates the confidence of a fulfilled woman. This, she was told by one of the men who came for her hand in marriage the previous year, attracted him to her – the air of self-confidence she stirs around her.

“Hello” Tammy says, extending his right hand towards her as she draws very close, he has stood up since he saw her.

“Hi” she returns, with a smile that defines a lady not bothered by a thousand gold chariots around that do not belong to her.

“You look sweet” Tammy said, almost giving away the intimidation he feels inside. He comports himself.

“Thanks” she says as he guides her to a seat. He pulls the seat backwards and adjusts it for her to ease in in comfort.

“So how has your day been?”

“Not so bad. You know how my job is. My team will pick me up later. I still have a customer to meet at Rumuosi before I head back to the office. How have you been enjoying your leave?”

“Very well. Getting tired of staying at home already. Still have three long weeks of rest”

“I envy you.” He says, looking straight into her eyes. He imagines having her as his wife. “What will you take?” Tammy holds the menu with his left hand, pointing at it with his right index finger.

Isioma peruses the menu.

“I like your hair” Tammy says as he adjusts in his chair. He shifts his eyes to her hair when she looks up from the menu. He doesn’t want their eyes to lock. She smiles.

“Thank you. I’ll like an ice cream and a fiesta.” She pauses and looks at Tammy as if she requires an approval before she proceeds. Tammy gives quick nods with eyes wider, suggesting he expects more from her.

“And a bottle of water” she says and relaxes on her chair.

Her value was shooting higher before Tammy. He has experience with ladies when it comes to outings. But here he is with a working class lady, who doesn’t care about depleting his financial resources. He beckons on the waiter, who is lurking around already.

“Get me rice and stew with peppered chicken while you get her ice cream and…” he turns to Isioma with an outstretched arm.

“fiesta!” Isioma finishes off. “And a bottle of water”. She chuckles.

“I’m sorry I didn’t remember that name. I’ll get to know what it is”. He smiles.

She lets out a laugh. “You mean you’ve never eaten fiesta?”

“No” He says, shaking his head slowly.

“I would have thought you should have seen it all”

“not for fiestas”

They both laugh.

“So tell me, who was the guy with you the day we met?” He asked, with a this-is-time-for-business deportment.

“My Pastor”

“Your Pastor?” He asks, evidently surprised.

“Sure. If he was a fiancé, I wouldn’t have given you my contact, not in his presence at least”

“I see” He says, nodding his head slowly, thoughtfully.

“It was my birthday and I had made him promise to take me out” Isioma says, in an attempt to dispel every negative thought he holds.

They are interrupted by the waiter, who carefully lays the foods on the table, placing each item where they are needed.

They chat while eating. They spend about 30minutes more after their meal, discussing their jobs.

“when will your colleagues come for you” Isioma asks.

“They are on their way already, Tayo just sent me a text”

“I should be on my way now. I have to be in church for Bible study in about 3 hours’ time. I have some chores to handle before then”

Tammy was enamored by her sense of purpose.

“it’s ok. I’ll call you on phone”

He stands up and waits for her. She picks up her bag with her right hand, holding her sun shade in her left hand.

“Thanks for the meal”

“It’s nothing”

“Take care”

“Ok”

She walks out of the place without looking back. He realizes he is still standing and moping at her after the security man closes the door behind her. He sits down, still looking at her through the tinted glass windows. She walks to a 2012 Highlander and drives off.

Tammy smiles to himself as he daydreams about Isioma being his girlfriend. He likes her, but he is afraid she may turn his proposal down. They need to know each other better. He has not told her anything, but from the little discussion they had, she wouldn’t be an easy nut to crack.
Tammy is still lost in thought when his phone rings. It is Tayo.
“How far”
“We are outside”
Tammy waves at the waiter who served them. The waiter is at a corner eyeing him. He pays the bill and walks out.

***
Tammy works with one of the new generation banks, he is a marketer. He never really knew what marketing was all about before he got the job. He studied Engineering in one of the Nigerian leading universities. He travelled all the way from Jalingo, after a successful aptitude test and first interview, to the bank’s head office in Lagos for the final interview and documentation. It dawned on him, after the Regional manager, whom he had been directed to meet, asked what job function he would like to settle for. Tammy had perceived, from his peers, that operations unit was better. When he responded that he would like to be in operations, the next question that trailed his response left him almost without an answer.

“What if there is a vacancy only in marketing unit?” the manager had asked him. They had asked him who and who he knew in the town and he had begun a roll-call of existing and non-existent ‘rich’ individuals he supposedly knew; he had been taught such for bank interview purposes.

“I’ll take it” Tammy had answered, after a long silence. The manager would have known Tammy was under pressure. Tammy was employed as a marketer thereafter.

It has been seven years since Tammy started work in the bank, he is yet to cultivate any sense of career security. Every now and then he sees his colleagues being relieved of their jobs and would always imagine when his turn would be. He had thought he would secure a better job and resign his banking job, but he has not been successful in that. Initially, when he was still fresh from NYSC and on the banking job, he would apply for most jobs adverts he sees on the internet and newspapers. He was motivated to work towards leaving the bank. But, as time passed on, it gradually dawned on him he was no longer a ‘fresh graduate’ when prospective employers would disqualify him from available jobs by his number of years of experience.

Initially, he was angered by the fact that his disqualification came from his lack of experience. But later, he would be disqualified by the same experience as most employers he sought after needed ‘fresh graduates’. He was somewhat frustrated, even though he stuck to the bank job because of the remuneration. The job gave him no satisfaction.

Tammy arrives his office early enough to meet the morning meeting, where the manager will say the same things he said the previous mornings. Drill them, curse them, encourage and challenge them: anything to make them bring in huge deposits. Each staff presents his or her call memo for review. They would have to gather again in the evening, at the manager’s time, to review their efforts for the day.

Tammy almost listened to an evil small voice within him one day, when the voice advised him to slap his manager. The manager had told him that he looked like his father, who was a failure. Tammy was so hurt that the Manager mentioned his father in his talk, even though he never knew him. When he remembered his salary that would drop into his account on the 27th of the month, he simply swallowed his saliva. He had gone to the Manager later and told him how he had felt. The manager only patted him on the back and told him it was all on the job.

The bank has a polite way of relieving one of his job, one will be ‘advised to resign’. They recently stylishly placed all staff on contract, after paying them off for their previous inputs. Tammy was paid only One Million naira, which he used to secure a piece of land in a remote location. He knows he leaves the bank with little money if he is ‘advised to resign’, and nothing at all if he resigns on his own, or dismissed. But dismissal will only come his way if he is relieved of his job due to any form of fraud.

***

Tammy steps out of the pool car and heads for the marketing hall, where he shares office with eight other marketers. Only two of them are full employees of the bank, the rest are outsourced. The thought of Isioma has been his mental preoccupation since they parted.

“How far?” he says as he waves to a security guard dressed in light-blue Khaki shirt on Black uniform who greeted him at the entrance.

He looks around the banking hall to see if any of his customers is transacting. He greets some familiar faces, shakes hands with other. He goes to the customer service officer (CSO) and drops some filled out account opening forms.

“How’s work” he asks Esther, the customer service supervisor, as he stood, his left arm clutching his tablet PC and other documents, his phones in his left hand and his right hand in his hip pocket. He waits patiently as Esther flips through each form to ensure there is no deferrals or any other irregular or incomplete customer personal information or document. Tammy hates it when his customers’ accounts are returned from the Central Processing Centre (CPC) without being opened because of incomplete documentation. He likes fixing the issues before they are sent out from the branch. He has come back with four packages, he waits for Esther patiently. Experience has taught him that most CSOs dump the packages for review at their convenience, which was out of sync with his work procedures.

He scurries to his desk as soon as Esther gives him a nod. Tammy responds to some customers’ calls for some transaction enquiries. He calls some other customers for deposits. He checks his consolidated Customers’ Account Balance (CABAL), then his key customers’ account balance for inflows. His CABAL is sure going down and he is not happy about it. Philip, his branch manager, has been on his neck since the last Monthly Performance Review (MPR) they attended. The Zonal Head had verbally shredded Philip for allowing Tammy’s CABAL go down. He even called him a weakling for not being on top of his job. Phillip, in turn, has not left Tammy any breathing space since then.

“All these fine boy wey you dey do here and your CABAL dey go down no go work o. You no go drag me down, na only you go go down” Phillip had said to Tammy the morning after the MPR. Tammy knows he has to shore up his CABAL soon or gets an advice for resignation. The job has really become a torn in his flesh. But it is a torn that pushes out milk and honey. He has made business visits to his key customers and pleaded with them to help boost his CABAL. But sincerely, the economy is also biting hard on their businesses. There seems to be little or no hope for him. He has been working on his prospects list, but his success has not added much to his CABAL.