The Outsider(S) Read Online Free Page B

we lived in were a luxury that few could afford. I had personally worked my way up. From sleeping out in the cold, I had moved to a cubicle made from plastic bags. From there I had quickly moved on to cartons. My movement to the tin house had happened quite suddenly. I had gone to sell water in Parklands. The woman who bought water from me happened to be Mrs. Patel.
    “Do you know how to read?” she asked, and for a moment I stood there dumbfounded.
    “Yes!” I said finally.
    “I give you a new job, salesgirl!” she said. And so I started working in her shop. But now it was all over. That had also happened quite suddenly. Mrs. Patel had gone for lunch as usual. I had remained and sat outside. And then she came back looking furious. “ Kwenda, kwenda, kwenda !” 17 she had yelled at me and Boi, the security guy. We looked at each other helplessly.
    “Madam, my wife is about to give birth; I need this job!” Boi had pleaded in tears. But she only locked the shop. I had gone back the next day. The shop was guarded by police with big guns. Boi was sitting in a corner near the shoe-shiners’ spot. His eyes were red, and when he saw me he burst out in a new bout of tears. “What will we do?” he asked me.
    The mandazi woman walked over slowly to where we were standing.
    “I have found out why Mrs. Patel fired you,” she whispered. We turned to look at her.
    “An Indian family, those ones who own the petrol station around the corner, were carjacked yesterday and killed,” she said solemnly.
    “ Uwiiii! ” Boi wailed. “But what does that have to do with me? With us?”
    “All the Indians are on some kind of a strike. They have all fired their employees.”
    For a moment we just sat there. No one said anything. “You can do anything, but just don’t sell mandazis around here!” the mandazi woman said finally in an unsympathetic voice. I walked home and had until now refused to think about the repercussions of what had happened.
    My thoughts were interrupted by a whistle. There was only one person who whistled like that.
    “Slaughter him!” I heard Tamaa Matano calling out to Kanga, and I knew that she was referring to the skinny pig.
    “I can’t. He has to put on a bit more weight,” Kanga said in a pained voice.
    “But it doesn’t make any business sense,” Tamaa Matano countered.
    I watched Kanga watching her thoughtfully. “Tamaa Matano, since when do you know about business?” he asked, his hands akimbo.
    “Believe me I know what I am talking about,” she said mischievously and walked past him towards my cubicle. I saw her raise her hand, but before she could knock on the door, I opened it.
    “I brought a packet of milk; can we make some tea? I am starving!” she said breathlessly while brushing past me into the cubicle. She was dressed in her characteristic plastic sandals. And she was dusty.
    “Where did you get maziwa ya nyayo ?” 18 I asked, feeling confused.
    “I told you about my new business idea?” she asked. I nodded, but I wasn’t sure which one. Tamaa Matano had the talent of coming up with all kinds of business ideas that always seemed to fail.
    “I decided to be sweeping the area around where Mama Mboga works. You see, everyone wants to buy their sukuma wiki in a clean place, right?” she asked, looking me in the eye intently.
    “To be honest I don’t care!” I said.
    “No, I don’t mean you. Rich people!” she said, straight-faced. I nodded. I still didn’t understand what any of that had to do with anything else.
    “She didn’t pay me,” she said slowly. “Can you believe it?” she asked, raising her voice. I could feel her getting agitated. She started pacing around the tiny cubicle. “Anyway, her daughter came from school when I was there. I snatched her bag, and then I found the packet of milk.”
    I stared at her and we both laughed.
    She walked to the corner and began fiddling with the Kimbo cooking fat that was lying on top of the omena . “Is this for