Lightness of Being…

The door swung open startling Zach from his light doze. He looked up too fast and winced in pain. Two men walked in looking grim. Both were wearing business shirts, matching khaki pants, and carrying identical black briefcases. One was a short, upright, skinny Black man with a thin angular face. The other was a tall, burly white man with a round face proudly sporting an oversized reddish mustache.  

Zack looked up at them with mingled hope, dread, and distress.

At least one of them is Black.

"So, are you ready to talk now?" the white man asked aggressively. 

"About what?" Zack was clearly confused. 

"I see, he is still playing his I'm innocent role'" 

The black man came forward, knelt on the ground next to Zack and started speaking in low tones 

"Look man, I don't think you know who you are messing with. See this guy is my boss, and I am scared like hell of him. Outside this door we have three armed men, waiting to do his bidding. Not a single soul knows you are here. I like you. I want to help you, but you gotta help us out, okay? Tell us what you know and we will let you go…aight?" 

Zack looked at him in pure bewilderment. He racked his brain for something, what is it that they want him to tell them? He tried to jog up his memory, but his head hurt too much. The thirst was making him feel weak and woozy. He couldn't concentrate to save his life, literally. 

"Can I have some water please?" Zack pleaded, his eyes started watering, but he braced himself against the tears. These men would have a field day with him if he started crying. 

The white man laughed "See what I'm talking about Joe," He turned to the Black man "this sand nigger here, is gonna keep us up all night, I don't have time for this shit". 

Joe didn't respond. He simply walked out and came back with a dirty plastic cup of water. It was really small; the upside down cone type, and half of it was already spilled.  

He took it to Zach's mouth, who accepted it with desperate gratitude. The dribble of water did nothing to alleviate his thirst, but it at least wet his lips and his tongue was cooled somewhat. His throat was on fire though.  

"Who are you guys? The Feds?" Zack tentatively asked. 

Joe nodded. 

"Why am I here?"  

The white man laughed again.  

"You mean to tell me you don't know?" 

"I really don't! I swear to God! I don't" 

"Well, you leave me no choice; let me ask my buddies outside to come help jog up your memory."

Joe looked up in alarm. "Chris, there's no need for that man. Not yet. Give him a chance to at least tell us something" 

Zack's heart was hammering. He needed to do something, say something fast! 

"Look, I really want to help, I will use everything I have to assist you and your honorable organization the FBI. But if you just tell me what you want me to say. It will really help" Zack pleaded trying to keep the note of hysteria off his voice. 

Chris cursed. "I need a smoke, I'll be right back. Looks like we'll be here a while." He walked out looking livid.  

Zack felt an inexplicable wave of relief wash over him as he watched Chris walk out. Maybe this brother can help me now! 

Joe opened his briefcase and took out his laptop. He fired it up, and while waiting pulled a file from the side zipper.  

He started flipping through it.  

"Do you know Khalid Al Amoody?"  

"Yes, Yes, he is my uncle!" Zack answered eagerly; glad to finally be able to answer a concrete question. 

"He is on the top 25 list for most wanted Terrorists by the US"  

Zack slumped and his heart fell. This can't be true. 

"It can't be true" he mumbled almost to himself "my uncle?!" 

"Yes, he is suspected to have been the main financier of Al Qaeda's sleeper cell in Mombasa. Some of his people were behind the Nairobi Embassy bombing." 

"Who told you this? It can't be true, he would never…never…" Zack trailed off, his head exploding with flickers of doubt, unbidden thoughts and a low persistent thudding pain. 

Chris opened the door with a loud kick. 

"Did he say anything?" He looked at Joe. 

"Not yet." 

"So how is that sweet daughter of yours huh? She's such a darling aint she Joe" Chris asked a leer on his face. Joe was holding Hannah's photograph. Her purely radiant smile tortured Zack's heart.  

"Hannah? Is she okay" Zack was on the verge of a breakdown.  

Chris just laughed.  

"She'll be fine, as long as you agree to help us out." 

"Anything! Just say it. I'll do it."  

{-} 

Information Technology.  

It wasn't hard for Zachary Moody to pick his major. Computers were the wave of the future, and he had to be on very edge. He toyed with Computer Science or Computer Engineering but they were both hopelessly too technical. He wanted to posit himself as the CEO of a company and CEOs did not waste time painstakingly erasing out comas and semi colons from lines and lines of code. 

He took business classes, accounting, Networking, and enough of the Social Sciences to enable him to graduate with an abundance of superficial knowledge (and high flown rhetorical opinions) on every conceivable topic, but not a single deep or original thought was nurtured out of him in his academic years.  

He had to stay in school because of his student visa status and thus dubbed himself the "Professional Student" title. While working on his undergraduate degree, he was able to find various odd jobs to pay for his outrageous tuition (almost triple the rates for International Students). His substandard living conditions with nearly ten other international students crammed in a two bedroom apartment, enabled him to keep his other expenses low. 

By the time he got to Graduate school, he found a company to sponsor him for his H1 visa and pay for his tuition. 15 years ago, anyone with an IT degree (or anything remotely close) was a much sought after commodity. Companies came to campuses enticing students with four week vacation packages, exorbitant entry level rates, and sweet benefit packages. That was before they had the incredibly genius idea of outsourcing jobs. Why pay an American at least $50,000 plus benefits when someone in India could do a much better job for a fraction of that rate? The double edged sword of globalization had not cut in too deep into the American lifestyle (and psyche) at the time of Zack's graduation. That is to say, China and India were not looming largely in the shadows as threatening economic competitors- yet.

Before he even graduated, Zack was already toying around with multiple offers idling on which one he wanted. Today, Career fairs still do occur on campuses, largely as a matter of rituals, but the tables have irrevocably turned. It is the students who come in primed, desperately clutching their resumes and wondering if they will get employed even for a nominal salary rate.  

He maintained a 4.0 GPA with relative ease throughout both undergraduate and graduate school. He was well trained in the art of memorization, butt kissing (they called in Brown nosing in Kenya), and playing the educational system to achieve the results he needed.  

The school system in Kenya was an obsolete tyrannical model that was supposed to pattern after the British but had effectively failed. The famous 8-4-4 system exerted so much pressure on its students that those who didn't drop out had to develop wills of steel to actually succeed. The end of high school was marked by an entrance Exam for the highly competitive university spots called KCSE (no one remembers what those initials mean). KCSE encompassed everything a student had learned from the beginning of high school to the end. The average class load each student had to take included Math, English, Kiswahili, Biology, Chemistry, Physics, Religious Studies, and an optional category (like Art, Woodwork, etc).  

For each of those classes, a student had to memorize four years' worth of material in order to pass the exam. Some of the highest achievers would breakdown at the very end. No one who passed the system remained unscathed. The only positive thing that could be said about it, is that the system had turned into a sort of intellectual boot camp. Where someone who actually goes through it, would turn into a hardened soldier able to survive in the scarcest of intellectual resources, toughest scenarios, and still promptly memorize and regurgitate everything that has been force fed into them.  

Zack, was a true product of the 8-4-4. He studied in a windowless building, with a leaking thatched roof on a dusty compound. He read from tattered books and spent long nights studying with an oil lantern. He had understood from a very young age that only education could get him out of that village. His lot was to run his father's store, and he decided to challenge fate and make his own way. His was the type of story, grandpa's boast to their grandchildren about. But his was actually true. 

When he finished his KCSE, his mother had secretly prayed he would fail. They did not have the money to send him to university, his father was getting old, and they needed help at home. She did not want to lose her baby in those big universities in Nairobi. Nairobi was so far! 

When he scored an A- average on his exam, he astounded everyone, even himself a little. His extended family stepped up, and held conferences. That boy is too bright to be left in that village. His uncle proposed his passage to the US. A big fundraising dinner was held in the Village, and a lot of people from Mombasa came. The neighbors' outpouring of generosity brought his mom to tears. Everyone brought something, an old golden bracelet inherited from a long dead grandparent,  meager savings hidden in various nooks around the house, and even little pennies lying under their mattresses.

He was a boy raised by his village, and they were sure he would do them proud one day. 

{-}

When he met Jenna he knew his life was finally complete. A stunning blonde, with smoldering green golden eyes to match,  and a petite frame who was assigned to work with him on a project, immediately enflamed his heart and set his imagination soaring.

This has to be his destiny to come thousands of miles away simply to lay eyes on this Divine work of art.

She briskly told him about her Department’s needs and they discussed what kind of application would work for them. She ran a tight ship on the Records Department of a major Governmental organization. Her Files and Folders were clearly demarcated, double- hole punched, labeled and filed. She had boxes to send to offsite shipping, packed and ready to go everyday promptly at noon. She spoke with the authority of a drill sergeant. Her floor had the surgical air and cleanliness of a hospital ward.

He was amused by her passionate zeal of paperwork. She was the Lord of bureaucrats and she ruled with an iron fist. He even thought her detail oriented nature was the perfect antidote to his laidback ways. His sweet, perfect Jannah (a paradise she was surely).

It took her a while to open up to him. He courted with the chivalry of a gentlemen and the patience of a saint. She was Catholic born and bred, and raised by a strict military father. He was shocked that she was still a virgin at 27, weren’t Western girls supposed to be promiscuous? When she affirmed that she was saving herself for marriage, Zack promptly proposed. This was clearly the woman that was meant for him.

He wasn’t bad looking himself; a tall, muscular, brown skinned man with jet black eyes and hair. He had high cheek bones, a wide sparkling smile, and full lips.

His humble mannerisms and the insistence on formally asking her dad for her hand; won over even her skeptic father. Her mother loved him too. He reminded her of her darling nephew (from her smutty cousin’s side).

He is such a darling young man.

{to be continued}