never be surprised

One of the Harare 'kids' (in his early twenties) that I had gotten to know after passing his 'spot' on the walk into work came to visit me in my office one day. After having a chat about life and love he saw a book on my desk. It was a new book and I had only had the chance to flick through the pages a few times. He asked if he could borrow it and I, trying to avoid an awkward moment, and quite surprised at his request, said yes. We shared customary shona greetings when one takes leave, and he was gone. After just moments I already regretted my decision. The book had been a gift and was worth a good few zim dollars (back in the day when zimbabwe dollars had some value!) - in other words I knew I would never see the book again. I kicked myself and ran out of the building trying to find the kid while at the same time trying to come up with a reason why I needed the book back. But he was gone, blending well into city streets that had their fair share of similar kids.

These kids, not surprisingly, had a reputation for opportunism - thay haggled, schemed, worked systems from a whole range of angles in order to gain some benefit. Over time you learned to see through some of the scams, but they were always five steps ahead of that game. Still, the walk to work each morning had allowed me to develop - or rather they to develop, frequent opportunities for wee chats.

A few weeks later, sitting in my office, trying with a colleague to cook some bacon without anyone noticing (right!) there was a knock on the door. My colleague grabbed the pan and tried to hide it under the table - just in case anyone found out what we'd been doing (I never figured out if it was a crime to cook bacon in one's office). As I opened the door, there was this kid, book in hand. He walked into my office, put the book down on the table and thanked me for lending it to me. He said he would love to read some more if I had any other books to spare. And then he walked out with a nod of his head. My colleague berated me for lending a book to the kid in the first place, knowing full well he'd sell it. 'But the book's here' I said, with a tone of surprise. 'Fair point', he said, shrugging his shoulders. 'Just don't do it again. Fancy some bacon?'