The Wretched of the Earth
Our story begins with a pair of shoes, worn by a man in search of something. I shall not answer the question of whether these shoes are new or old, shiny or dusty nor will I tell if they have acquired the smell associated with sweaty feet.
What I can tell you is that they are presently engaged in vigorous movements. A shaking knee that belongs to the body of an anxious man waiting in the reception with peeling walls. Walls yellowed from cream to an unpleasant shade of human urine. Staring at the ceiling gives him no respite as it seems that human waste was the common design element in the room.
A few ceiling boards are missing, leaving his mind to run wild about the probability of rodent falling out of one of the spaces. The other ceiling boards that have stubbornly clung on to their places have among them a few that are marked by wide brown patches. Irregularly shaped, they look like someone spent time aiming urine at the ceiling till it yielded and changed color to its present unpleasant hue.
His shoes are in motion. They shuffle between anxiety and uncertainty. Along with his feet, the soles receive slaps of anxiety against the floor. It is not loud enough to make a sound, but it is disturbing enough to the eyes of the secretary. She turns away from her conversation about the price of beans in the market to glance at him in irritation from time to time. After her eyes have heard enough, she tells the owners of the shoes to stop making the incessant noise with his feet which was an irritant to her eye. The shoes find rest at that moment and thank her.
They begin their unthankful work a few minutes later when they and the man are ushered into the office through a door that they have sat staring at for the last one hour. The sign that reads, “DIRECTOR” in black letters engraved in gold outlay that looks like it was scratched on a regular basis for fun. The man and the pair of shoes regard the sign with different gazes. His mind travels far, moving away from unsettled thoughts that have introduced insects into his belly to trying on the title “DIRECTOR”.
He plans his route to acquiring the position. His qualifications would get him a job about 5 levels beneath the coveted chair. After a few years of excelling at his job, winning over his superiors and licking many bottoms, he would be crowned “DIRECTOR” and be addressed as “Oga” by the mouth of the woman that had barely looked at him when he arrived. He would organize a coup if he had to, oust the present boss or anyone that stood in his way.
The man looks down at his feet and a new pair of shoes materializes. The scuffed leather peeling away revealing grey material underneath disappears with his unemployment. The creases on the front end smoothen out. It is replaced by a pair of Brogues, brown leather and hand-stitched in Aba. He decides to replace it with a pair of oxblood Oxfords. He keeps trying on new pairs of shoes until the older pair on his feet let out some of the odorous smell within its worn interior to remind their owner of their existence and their betrayal.
It is not the first time that their master would be unfaithful, thinking about other shoes other than them. They who had kept his feet protected. They who had borne the suffering of traversing across the earth in search of sustenance. They who had never left him after being hurriedly picked from underneath his bed when the smoke choked him awake from sleep: even after the loss of his home, watching as the fire consumed his bed, licking up the furniture in his parents’ house along with their screams for help while the man’s tears dried on his pair of shoes. The tears formed the basis of their pact. Of reliance. Of dependability. Of care.
The threat of new shoes is always near, but they earnestly pray to God and hoped that the man would never come into the type of fortune that would let him abandon them. They had merged with his feet, becoming one flesh. They knew every curve and had stretched accordingly to accommodate his needs. This interview had to be like the others. With a sad disappointing end and an assurance for a continued future with their lover.
Sometimes the loudest prayers are from inanimate things. The ones that watch and say prayers with uncertain tongues behind closed lips. Maybe that is why God looked down at the shoes that knew the wretchedness of the earth. He must have seen they had become it and decided to reward their faithfulness.
……………..
The man begins his journey into the sun. Away from the urine-stained ceiling. Away from the secretary with the eyebrows drawn with a magenta eye pencil and her askew wig. Away from the man behind the door that sat on a faded black chair with tears that looked like a child had picked at the small tears until they widened into large spaces. Away from his fat sweaty hands that flipped through the documents carefully handed over to him. Away from the sound of his gravelly voice offering 14,000 naira a month for an 8–5 job that involved doing the work of three people. Away from the sinking feeling of his heart almost hitting the hot tar only saved by his shoes. Away into the world, searching for hope. On his feet, his shoe smile, mouth opening, toes for teeth as they offer thanks to God for being able to keep their owner.
