The colonel put three spoons of sugar into each cup and pushed one towards Amie, who did not take sugar in her tea, but did not like to mention it. Maybe at a later meeting she would find the courage.
“We need you to make a movie about our excellent electricity services, and show how we have connected many of our people to a regular and reliable supply of power thus enabling them to build up small industries within their own homes.”
Amie hoped these small industries had a more reliable electric supply than she had in her own home. Most days they lost power for a good couple of hours.
“These are just the start of the projects we want you to record. There are of course, many more, but these will do to begin with.”
Amie took a sip of the very sickly tea. “And your target audience is …?” she asked.
Colonel Mbanzi looked puzzled.
“Who do you want to show these projects to?” she simplified the question.
The colonel waved his arms expansively. “Why, to everyone of course! Our people, overseas visitors and we plan to exhibit them in other countries as well.”
“And do you have a timeframe for production?”
“We are holding an International Trade Fair here in the capital in two months’ time and we would expect them by then.”
“All of them!” Amie failed to mask her horror. “Two months is a very short time to produce six programmes!” she exclaimed.
“You can’t accomplish it in time?”
Again, she recognized the underlying threat in his words. This was a man not used to being questioned about his orders.
Taking a deep breath Amie stood her ground. “I will certainly do my best, but there is a lot of work in making even one programme: research, scripting, shooting,” she saw his face and added quickly; “by that I mean filming, then logging the scenes to be used and editing them in the right order, together with the voice over and the music which all has to be in sync. It all takes time.” Hopefully, I can blind him with my in-house speak, she thought, but the colonel seemed quite unfazed.
“They don’t have to be so long,” he replied missing the point entirely. “Perhaps an hour each should be quite adequate.”
“I think that would be far too long,” replied Amie. “Research has shown adult concentration begins to diminish after twenty minutes, so I would suggest, with the benefit of my experience, fifteen minutes for each of these would suit your purpose much better. They would have more impact and thus further retention.” Goodness she thought, I’m beginning to speak like the colonel now! She continued. “You are hiring me for my expertise, so along with my ability to make videos for you, I can bring extra knowledge about the running time of the finished product. I do know what I’m talking about.”
The colonel looked totally unconvinced and more than a little annoyed, but he shrugged his shoulders and said, “Well, if that is all you can manage in the time, I suppose it will have to do.”
Amie bit back the sharp retort. She may have won her point but he had twisted it to make it her failing, her being unable to do a good enough job. It he was inferring she was short-changing him.
“As you have indicated you will be under so much pressure,” he continued, again emphasizing his words, “we will of course assign a student to help you, and, if necessary, translate for you.”
“Thank you,” said Amie. “And language, do you want ...?”
“English, of course.” The colonel didn’t wait for her to finish speaking. “It will be more beneficial for the overseas market and potential investors. So, you will start tomorrow morning and maybe choose the Shova Shova project. I will send a car for you at eight.” The colonel stood before continuing, “I hope you will make yourself available and not keep your driver and assistant waiting.”
Amie was so tempted to say she had been on standby all day – it wasn’t her fault – and, had she been given an address and used her own transport, she would have been knocking on his office door precisely on time. She thought better of it, bit her lip and said nothing.
The colonel put out his hand and shook hers with yet another insincere smile, and waved towards the door to indicate the meeting was over.
If she had hoped to make a graceful exit, Amie was out of luck. By the time she had picked up the camera and other bits of equipment, Colonel Mbanzi was already on the phone barking orders to some hapless underling. But she could feel his eyes on her as she struggled with the door knob and made an undignified retreat.
She was wondering how she was going to get home, when the same driver materialized from an office half way along the corridor, and with a sweep of his head, indicated she was to follow him. This time, he did not offer to help her carry the camera gear.
It was almost dark by the time Amie got home. When she was dropped off at her gate, she was offered no help with the equipment and she was grateful when Pretty appeared to carry some of it inside. She felt exhausted from the tension of the meeting and the uncertainty of what was behind her new career, if you could call it that. She found Colonel Mbanzi unnerving, and she had to admit, more than a little scary. If he hadn’t the power to make their lives difficult, if not impossible, and even destroy Jonathon’s career, she could have shaken the whole thing off and simply refused to co-operate. She had no idea how high up in government he was, but she was going to do her damnedest to find out.
Amie would have preferred to kick off her shoes and spend a quiet night at home, but as luck would have it, there was another dinner at the Club, one of Jonathon’s bosses was over for just two days. Briefly, she wondered if he was enjoying the hospitality in one of Togodo’s new bed and breakfasts run by a highly trained and efficient team. Somehow, she doubted it.
It was a lot easier to entertain at the Club than at home, though Amie had hoped to throw the occasional dinner party in their own house. But although she’d improved the kitchen facilities by buying a few gadgets, she still didn’t have sufficient crockery or cutlery or even serving dishes to entertain just yet. Pretty was just terrified of the food mixer and ran screaming out of the kitchen the first time Amie turned it on. It took a lot of persuading to entice her back and show her how it worked. What was more, Pretty didn’t seem to grasp the point of having a food mixer at all, and every time there were ingredients to mix together, Pretty made it obvious she preferred to use a fork or a whisk. She was never going to change Pretty’s mind, so Amie gave up and let her get on with it.
Amie had met Brian Ford once before at a company function in Castle Bridge, but when she met him again that evening, she was amazed to see a role reversal. True, he was Jonathon’s boss, but he was out of his comfort zone and not at all relaxed. It dawned on Amie that while they’d become quite familiar with the conditions, behaviour and atmosphere in Togodo, to Brian it was all new and strange. She realised how much she’d adapted to her new way of life.
Brian was jumpy and ill at ease, although a couple of beers before dinner, and a couple of glasses of wine during dinner, helped him relax. Jonathon had been dreading the visit, he knew he was weeks behind schedule and his boss had come over to see why they’d not kept to the timetable.
Since Richard was seated at their table, Jonathon relied on him to perhaps explain how things were done, or rather not done here in Togodo. Coming from an expatriate with years of living in Africa would carry a lot more weight.
“I think Jonathon has done remarkably well,” said Richard as the waiter brought their first course. “People in England have no idea how difficult it can be working in a place like this.”
“I can appreciate there must be some differences,” replied Brian. “The heat alone …”
“The practical things are easier to handle,” continued Richard, “it’s the people. When they sign the contract, they promise the earth, but they’re already calculating how much more they can get out of the deal, especially on a personal level. Take your offices for example. When Jonathon arrived, he was given to understand they’d already been reser
ved for Drenton.”
“Yes, that was part of the agreement right up front,” replied Brian.
“But what do you say when they simply shrug their shoulders, tell you there was a misunderstanding and they’ve found a piece of ground where you can build brand new offices?”
“That was a tricky one to get around,” put in Jonathon. “It took days and days to change their minds and move in to suitable premises.”
“But we never agreed to building offices, that was never part of the plan!” exclaimed Brian.
“You know that, Jonathon knows that, but how do you convince the African officials? Remember they have their family and cousins on standby to erect yet another unnecessary building, with everyone getting a cut along the way. They can’t wait to inflate your budget and their back pockets at the same time!”
“I can see this is going to take a lot longer than we’d anticipated, probably double the time frame,” said Brian.
Amie listened with interest. She had been hesitant about chatting to Jonathon about his work. If he wasn’t tired, then he was in a foul mood when he got home most nights, so she tried to wait patiently until he was ready to talk. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen very often.
“I’m happy the office is up and running now, but then there was this big debate about where to site the plant. I understood they were worried the construction noise would disturb the president his palace is only a kilometre away so they wanted it built further up the coast.” Sounding exasperated Brian continued. “They don’t seem to think it matters where it goes.”
“How much does it matter?” asked Diana.
“It’s probably not that critical,” replied Jonathon, “but of course, once they tentatively agreed on the new site we suggested, we had to survey the land to ensure the specs won’t change for the safety of the building, the foundations and such, and also the geology of the land. But so far everything looks fine and we’ve started laying the foundations and the pipe work is underway.”
“I see, and all the time your company is pouring more and more money into the Togodian economy, which has to be good for them.” Diana looked thoughtful. “Believe me, we’ve been in enough third world countries to know just how far and how fast you can push these governments and officials. Richard is constantly frustrated with missed deadlines and broken promises.”
“I am indeed,” agreed her husband, “but in the end you learn to take life more slowly, refuse to let your blood pressure rise too high, and just do the best you can. And that’s what I keep telling Jonathon.” He patted Jonathon on the shoulder.
It’s amazing how we all stick together, thought Amie. Our little group here are more in tune than we are with colleagues from our own companies back home. She reminded herself to thank both Richard and Diana for their loyal support. She was not sure Brian was wholly convinced about African business ethics, but if this visit helped to take the pressure off Jonathon, even a little bit, that would be very welcome.
After dinner Diana asked Amie to come and keep her company while she had a cigarette out on the veranda. Even here in Togodo, you were not allowed to smoke inside a restaurant.
“I don’t know what we would do without the Club,” said Amie as they settled down on one of the large sofas. “I’ve never entertained any of Jonathon’s bosses before, and I might have made a terrible hash of it.”
Diana laughed. “I certainly did the first time I tried! I was so nervous, and we’d not been married all that long either. I’d never learned to cook, my mother loathed cooking, so all I could do was heat and assemble from tins and packets. I knew how to prepare all the ready-made foods by heart and I never had to read the instructions.”
“So, what went wrong on your first dinner party?” asked Amie.
“We were in Tanzania, not in the suburbs, but a little way out in the bush. I’d raced into town to buy meat, but I forgot about the heat, and by the time I got home, the pork was reeking to high heaven.”
Amie laughed.
“Well I can laugh about it now too but at the time I was frantic! No one had told me to take a cooler box with ice blocks in it when I went shopping. So, I tried my hand at nut cutlets, which were not very successful, and for dessert, I had to make custard for the first time from scratch, before I had always poured it straight out of the carton. It was a total disaster sadly, but everyone was very polite and Richard went overboard explaining how difficult and different things were in the African bush. Not at all like back home; no Sainsbury’s just down the road.”
“I was a little surprised and maybe upset, but Jonathon didn’t seem keen for Brian to come to our place even for drinks.”
“I think he was wise. Your husband is a lot more perceptive than you give him credit for.”
“Whatever do you mean?” asked Amie.
“Well, you heard them earlier, saying how behind schedule everything is,” said Diana.
“Yes.”
“Well, if you look at the houses we have here, even bosses in England seldom have anything quite so grand, unless they’re multi-millionaires of course.”
Amie looked puzzled. “But what does that have to do with anything?” she asked.
Diana smiled. “Jealousy, my dear. Seeing someone a lot further down the totem pole living in such grandeur, along with household staff, and projects behind schedule – it’s all about perception. See what I mean?”
“Oh! They might think Jonathon is dragging his heels and extending his time here because we’re living in the lap of luxury with everything paid for – ah, yes I see now.”
“It doesn’t matter where in the world you are, the basic human emotions are the same. We know Jonathon is working all hours ...”
“Yes,” agreed Amie. “He hardly has a chance to enjoy our mansion, which was the smallest on offer at the time. Oh dear, life is a bigger minefield than I thought.”
“Make that mind-field,” laughed Diana. “There are lots of good things about living overseas, but there is also the down side. We don’t enjoy the same cosy, comfortable, safe life you find in most Western countries these days.”
“I think I’m beginning to enjoy the challenges,” said Amie surprising herself, it was something she had only just realised.
“You’ll do,” said Diana. “Welcome to the world of the expatriate.”
Since they were both very tired when they returned from the Club that night, Amie did not tell Jonathon much about the meeting with Colonel Mbanzi. But she did find time to show him how she’d converted the luggage trolley to carry most of the camera gear. It did not look very professional, but it was much easier to pull it behind her than try and carry the camera, the small bag of lights, the tripod, the script, and any other bits and pieces.
When she turned the light out Amie wondered what the next day would bring.
Up early, Amie was ready by seven thirty, and this time she was pleasantly surprised when a jeep drove up to the gate only ten minutes late. Much to her relief, there was a different driver, a slightly older, thick set man who smiled as she opened the gate. He was closely followed by a young man wearing jeans and a T-shirt with ‘Guns and Roses’ on the front.
The driver introduced himself as Themba, while the younger one said his name was Ben. Amie wondered if this was really his given name or he was using a Western one.
Ben took charge of the trolley, leaving Amie free to carry her clipboard and the log sheets. As they climbed into the jeep, Amie asked if they knew where to go. Yes, they assured her, one of the schools on the outskirts of town. Amie was relieved to see Themba was quite a careful driver, and apart from shouting insults at the other road users, he kept to a steady and reasonable speed.
It never failed to amaze Amie that although she didn’t think of Apatu as a large place, nearly every time she went out, she saw different areas and even more shanty towns.
“We need to get general footage as well,” she mentioned to them and they nodded their heads in agreement. She hoped their command of Eng
lish was good, and they would understand at least most of what she said.
About half an hour later they stopped at the main gates to a school. It was a good deal smarter than the orphanage school, but there was still a gatekeeper, who at first, seemed reluctant to let them in. There was quite a heated discussion with Themba before very slowly, the gates were opened, just wide enough for the jeep to scrape through.
“We go to see the Headmaster first,” announced Ben.
“That is exactly what I was thinking,” replied Amie glancing around. The buildings extended upwards by three floors round a central square, the usual bare sandy area with not a blade of grass in sight. She noticed several broken windows, and decided to keep those out of shot if possible. There was the usual litter on the ground and the sounds of pupils chanting wafted out on the still, clear air.
Leaving the jeep close to the main door, Amie asked Themba if he would mind looking after the equipment while she and Ben went inside. He seemed quite happy to do this and immediately settled down in his seat and closed his eyes. Amie hoped he wouldn’t fall sleep, he was supposed to be guarding valuable camera gear.
Inside the main doors, there was no reception area, and no secretary, so they wandered down the corridor hoping to find someone to ask. It was not long before a teacher came hurtling towards them. He paused briefly as Ben asked where they could find the Headmaster. The teacher pointed to one of the doors and scuttled off.
“Goodness, I’ve never seen a staff member running in a school before!” exclaimed Amie in surprise.
“He was not a teacher!” said Ben, “this is a high school.”
“But he looked at least twenty years old,” replied Amie.
“That is quite possible,” replied Ben. “If you fail to pass your exams at the end of a year in school, then you stay behind and repeat that year. Some of the children fail many, many times and it takes them a long time to finish school.”
Amie in Africa Box Set 1 Page 17
