set in Libreville, Gabon
It wasn’t that Father was planning to announce that he was ready to retire so quickly. But he was in the canteen, and someone who worked for the administration baited him into the conversation. Father was in line trying to scoop plantains and fufu onto his tray when this man cut the line in front of him. He was the son of the CEO of the Gabon Oil Company and had practically been given the job because of that. He had the habit of cutting the line all the time, just as he was in the habit of driving a rotation of fancy cars to the hospital and revving the wheels for fun. Father usually let him cut in front of him out of resignation, but something was different today, as it had been for the last few weeks: Father was accepting the possibility of no longer working for this hospital, and the more he thought about it, the more he came to like that idea.
And so, unlike the other times when Father would ignore it, he said quite curtly: « I am sure I will not miss working here. »
He had said it as a knee-jerk response, with no thought or consideration given to his words.
Unfortunately, he had chosen the worst person to react to. The person from the administration office said: « What do you mean? » and when Father struggled to find an answer, he became like a tree snake detecting a sumptuous meal.
He was going to poke and prod Father until all of the blood in Father’s body bled out.
« What do you mean? So, you are leaving the hospital? You have not told anyone that you are leaving. So, what is it? Are you leaving? If you are quitting, you must inform us. And remember that you are choosing to quit. We do not recompense people who quit. So, what is it? What are you planning to do? Are you going to tell me? »
Father chuckled awkwardly. Confrontation troubled him. He noticed suddenly that his neckline was feeling wet with sweat. He knew that any word that he said would be used against him, so he stayed silent. He found a seat on the other side of the room where no one would be within earshot of any conversation, put down his tray, and just ignored the man. He looked only at the food in front of him, despite knowing that the person from administration was hovering in the foreground, staring at him, waiting for him to say something.
Luckily, the person from the administration didn’t come and sit with Father. He had shown off his importance and was probably satisfied. But someone else did come up. It was that youngish woman who had taken out her braids and grown out an afro, who loved to gamble and swear, and who spent her free time unwinding with a man as conservative as Father. It was Awa, one of his best friends at the hospital.
« Bonjour » she said. She gave a polite smile, one that asked Father if he was in the mood to interact with another person.
« Bonjour » Father said back. He approved of her presence with a gesture he made with his eyebrows, pointing them towards the empty seat. She sat there but didn’t immediately dig into her food. She was looking surprisingly contemplative.
Then she asked, « So, you are planning to retire? »
Father looked at his tray, not sure what he should be eating first. He ultimately snapped one of the beignets in half, took the knife, and put bush butter on top of it.
He asked: « How do you know? »
« I was right behind you in line. I heard everything. »
« You were in line? I did not see you. You could have said hi. And he was being quite loud. He wanted to be loud, to humiliate me. »
« That is all true. I agree. However, you are not answering the question. Are you retiring? »
Father munched on his beignets, getting the powdered sugar over his lips. It was stupid. He really ought to have eaten his meal first rather than dessert, as his fish was still steaming, and the cassava-and-greens mix was going to lose its flavour if it cooled down. But the question Awa was asking also put everything in his mind out of order. He felt like having something sweet on his tongue to restore some coolness to his thoughts.
He waited for logic to return to him. He said: « It is not an easy thing to decide. »
This felt right. Awa was one of the first people he should have told.
Awa responded: « There is not a thing that is easy to decide. It is hard to decide what car to buy. It is hard to decide whether or not to migrate. I think about a lot of things, too. Life in France looks like it would be much easier than life here, and I have a cousin there. Perhaps I should go… »
« Sorry I did not tell you. »
« It is normal. We do not have to tell anything to each other. We work together. That is all. I will leave to France next week, and you will not know. That will be my secret. You will have yours, and I will have mine… »
« Je suis vraiment désolé… »
Father meant it. Awa wasn’t family, but they had known each other for over a decade, and she was one of the few people who wished him on his birthday, or went out of the way to make small talk with him, or who would respond if he ever needed help outside of a professional setting.
Awa was still sitting, but she held her tray, clenching it in her hands. She pushed her chair outwards to stand, but then as her body lifted upwards, she sat it back down again. She took a deep breath, and she said: « I thought we were friends. »
Father smiled. « We are. I am actually touched that you are this affected. I did not even have any expectation that the news of my retirement would be important to you. You are so much younger than me. You have so many other friends at the hospital. I never thought you would miss me. »
« These people are all my friends? » Awa’s eyes snapped open. « They are all looking out for themselves. I know that, and you know that. I talk to them because I want to survive. We get paid little for the work we do. Life is hard. » She inverted her arm to show Father the other side. Where the wrist connected to the arm was a new tattoo, of a woman who mildly resembled Awa, with a big afro and sunglasses, naked, but covering her private parts with her folded legs and arms. « You know that we live in a conservative country. I know what the other men and women say about me. They are around my age, but still they pass their comments on me. You are different from them and I am different from them, and though it is for different reasons, we are very similar. Of course I will miss you. How could I not? »
Awa’s voice was breaking as she spoke. Hearing the emotion in her voice and the veracity of her thoughts, Father could not help but be moved. They exchanged a knowing smile, and they ate together in silence for a while. Father broke the fufu with his hands and put the creamy cassava fluff into the sauce around the fish. The food was a little too salty today, but it was well absorbed by the fufu. Father chewed slowly. He made it a point to savour the meal. It was simple cooking from the canteen, but it had a different flavour from the food of his home or village.
It wasn’t that he was going to miss the canteen food, but he had to appreciate its texture and the fact that once he left his job, he would no longer have access to the things or people from work that he took for granted.
Father said, « I have known you for over fourteen years now. I remember how we started to talk. It was around the time my son was going to college. You had recently graduated. I saw how young you looked, and I missed my son. I couldn’t help but talk to you. I told you to remove your tattoos. I told you to get married. I told you to work seriously and hard. You were annoyed with me, and I am sorry for how much I offended you. I said those things because I wanted to be friends with you. And now look. You are fond of me. I would have never predicted this. You can be soft. You can be considerate. You are loving. You are a great friend. And I will miss you and it is the truth. »
Awa’s food was no longer steaming. She continued to eat, first picking apart the fish and putting the pieces into her mouth. With each word that Father said, her face moved to make another expression. Sometimes a wide smile or loud laugh was there, joyful at the memories he was bringing up. Other times she tugged her eyebrows together like she wanted to furiously argue with Father, just like how they used to when they were first getting to know each other. But her mouth remained shut. It was only after Father finished speaking and they had both had some time to fill their bellies that she spoke.
« How is your mother? »
« She is good. Well, her health is very bad. It remains bad and is getting worse. I thought I could handle her care and my work both. I now have to pick one. »
« Family is very important. You told me that. I always found it hard to understand. My parents and I come from the same city, we speak the same language, we live in the same house, and yet we spend most of our time arguing. I really wanted to move out. That was why I kept hanging out with foreigners, or trying to make money by playing card games. I did a lot of things I’m not proud of, but I wanted to earn enough to leave or find someone who could take me away from here. Sadly, nothing in my life has changed that much. I have to remember that Gabon is Gabon, and there’s little opportunity for people to move upwards. »
Father protested: « That is anywhere. People struggle to become successful in every country. And a lot of people are successful. I came from a village, and now I am here. I had to struggle. »
« Ninety percent of the population struggle. There are successes. I understand. But it takes a lot of luck to achieve success. Hard work is important, but luck is also important. »
« You reduce everything to luck. You are also a lady of luck. I know where your parents come from. I know how they struggled. They did everything for you. »
« And this is your point? This is the point you are trying to lead me to? »
« The point…the reason…actually, I don’t know… »
Awa responded with a loud and long laugh. Father tried to think about what he was actually trying to say. « The point is that for myself or your parents, we say what we say because we care. Your parents want what is best for you. Their intention is good. You had a goal to leave Gabon. A lot of the younger generation do. My son did. But it is not your fault you were not able to leave. You did your best, and it is normal to struggle. We are trying to give you advice that will make it easier for you… »
Awa scraped the sauce underneath her fish bones and pushed it to a corner of the plate. She mixed it with the rice but didn’t put it into her mouth.
Awa said: « I thought you should have retired when your mother came back home. I don’t remember if I told you this or not. »
« I cannot remember myself. But yes, that is the truth. That is what I should have done. You gave good advice. I just didn’t listen to it. »
« So, the young aren’t always wrong? »
« I never said that. I don’t know why that is something you would think. »
Awa laughed again, this time fondly. She finished her rice-and-sauce mix. She asked: « Have you told any of the other doctors that you want to retire? »
« I will have to start telling them soon. Who do you think I should mention it to? »
« I think you should mention it to no one. None of them are your friends. You will leave, and they will not notice. »
« That is the truth » Father said. His heart sank for a moment, thinking about how many decades he had been here, and how hard he had worked, and how little it had paid off for him socially. Then he looked up and locked his gaze with Awa’s. The natural result was to smile.
Awa asked: «What? »
« It’s nothing. »
Awa asked again, smiling naughtily like a little girl: « What? »
Father looked down. He let his smile leave him. His hands were so wrinkled with age that they almost looked pruned. He hated seeing all the lines around them, as well as the dark spots on his hands that had never been there before.
He had lived so much of his life at this hospital, and while it was good for the people around him and good for his financial situation, there were a lot of other things his hands could have done, and he was sure he would have found a way to be proud of those works, too.
He said: « I have finished my meal. You have finished your meal. I should see my next patient. »
Awa said: « I understand. And when will I see you again? »
Father said: « I have your number. Have you ever met my mother? »
Awa said: « No, I have not even met your wife. I have never been to your house. »
« Then come to our place at the end of the month. I will have more free time after I retire. I will show you around our garden. »
« You have a garden? You must be a rich man to afford all that space. »
Father picked up his tray, Awa joined him. As they threw away their waste, he said: « Yes, I’m rich. There’s also a lot of richness in the life that I lead outside of the hospital. Even I forget how beautiful that life is. It will be great to show it to you. You know me as a doctor and I know you as a nurse, but that doesn’t need to be how we treat each other in the future. I want to invite you to my home, and I want my family to know you. »
Awa said: « I would like that. »
Father said: « I would like that, too. »
They waved and left. Father had said that he was going to see his next patient, but he was actually lying. He was going to the administration to formally announce that he was leaving the hospital. He hadn’t known when would have been the right time, but something about interacting with Awa had given him a confidence and courage, and he was going to take advantage of it before this audacity that never came naturally to him withered and puckered out.
