GLORIA’s son failed to enter high school last week. The simple reason was that there were inadequate funds for his school fees.
It wasn’t that they did not try to raise the money; it was the making of some unreliable, inconsiderate and downright untrustworthy fellow Papua New Guineans.
It had been a giant effort on her part to ensure he made it into the next phase of his education; two years in fact.
The early years had been okay simply because the primary school fees were not as high as that of high schools, and she was able, through the informal sector, to cater for her son’s education at that level and service the needs of her family as best as she could from her earnings.
She had gone into the money market business utilising the funds from her street sales. This was the only option that was open to her to be able to raise adequate funds for his son’s high school fees.
And the path to this end was not without its challenges and heartaches.
A few months ago, she was really troubled by the failure of a Samarai man to honour his commitment. He had promised her in good faith that he would repay her and add “a little extra on top of his loan”. He had sounded genuinely sincere.
The neighbour, Freddie, also from Samarai who had introduced him, was well acquainted with her family. They all lived on the same street at Hohola. Freddie had vouched for his wantok in all sincerity.
“He’s one of the senior officers with the provincial government,” he had told her. But she had held back, unsure of his real character.
“Look, I’ll be back on fortnight Friday to settle the matter, don’t worry,” the stranger had assured her. “There’ll be a substantial extra on top,” he had said with a reassuring and confident smile.
She was still very reluctant to succumb. The guys reeked of grog and it wasn’t hard to guess what they intended to do with her resources if she gave it to them. And she had reservations about lending money to people who drank and gambled.
But the street guy, obviously under the influence of his partner’s persuasion and his own inkling to carry on the binge, had convinced her that this guy was true to his word. Reluctantly, she succumbed.
A month ago, she was standing outside the provincial government office feeling rather paranoid. But she had made up her mind that morning to go and claim what was rightfully hers; he son’s education depended on it. She was disgusted with the guys but she had hardened enough in the business over the short time she had been in the business, to take it on the chin.
But with the thought of her son’s education and the pressing needs of her family, she had been on edge since that Friday when the Samarai failed to honour his word. Besides the shortfall was affecting her business.
She had thought about all the options. She was going to march to the government office on this guy’s payday, locate him and demand her dues.
She really wanted also to give the guy a piece of her mind but felt it was out of order for the simple reason that the ruckus around the office block might give the onlookers the wrong impression.
She summoned up enough courage to ask the receptionist if the guy was in. She could detect a hint of suspicion in the girl’s face and she did have a face, which readily told her she was the type who had a big mouth when it came to gossips in the office.
“What’s it about?” she had asked.
“It’s about my money,” she said, just restraining herself from screaming it out.
“Is he paying maintenance or something?” she asked.
That did it. She blew her top.
Moments later, when she had regained her breath and a bit of her sanity, she was able to look around at the curious office workers around her.
“What’s going on here,” the authoritative voice bellowed from the stairs.
The receptionist sidled up to him and whispered something in his ears. After a moment, the man, who was obviously the boss, spoke: “The person you are after is under indefinite suspension pending a court case. He hasn’t been to work for the past two months.”
She felt very tired after that revelation. What a wasted effort, she thought. “Why is he under suspension, anyway?” she asked curiously.
“Alleged misappropriation of public funds,” the boss muttered as he ushered her out.
She got the picture. In her mind’s eye, there was a picture of her K150 sprouting wings and flying away.
She had been in the business of lending out her hard-earned cash to earn extra income for the sake of making ends meet and saving some of it for her son’s school fees.
All that time, depending on her husband’s meager unskilled worker’s pay, has never lessened the hunger pangs in the pit of her family’s stomach.
The price of things were going up all the time and the simple wages of the simple people have stayed frozen, as if the government had tied a noose around their necks and never eased back on the pressure.
Besides, her husband’s pay often disappeared the moment he broke open the pay packet and whatever small change that he brought home was only adequate for a one-man meal.
She had begun her ‘money market’ with the sale of buais and stick tobacco. As the demand grew, so did her business.
As the money rolled in from the betelnuts, she had expanded to include credit facilities for the people on the street, especially for the mothers who really needed the cash to buy necessities for the children and housekeeping.
It was a breeze until her soldier in-law came home with a three of his comrades and they went through her till, promising to return together the next fortnight and pay her back.
She had expected them on their payday but when they never turned up, she made inquiries and found out that two had transferred out and one had quit the army.
Then there were a couple of her husband’s work mates who kept telling her that they’ll take care of their arrears on the next payday and the next payday somehow was never coming.
Excuses started cropping up…“We’ve got a death in the family” … “the cheque’s not ready…”; “the cheque needs another signature and the boss is on leave…”; “there’s been a sudden increase in this fortnight’s deductions …”; “I got pick-pocketed … “; etc, etc, etc.
Then there’s “tomorrow”, and for the first time, she realised the true meaning of the phrase ‘tomorrow never comes’.
Occasionally, there were settlements but these turned out to be only part of the original loan, all of it without the interest, or just the interest with a promise of “consider the original loan as a new loan”… and the cycle continued in the same trend.
She has since made it a point to wait for her money at the borrowers’ work place on paydays and it never ceases to amaze her how some make themselves disappear into thin air on those very occasions.
Other than some of the excuses already mentioned above, new ones crop up while still others make a show of going to change money and disappearing for the whole weekend to contemplate what excuse they should come up with.
No amount of tirade showered on the culprits had yielded any positive response. She had done her simple arithmetic and found that the amount outstanding was quite substantial. Question was how could she recoup them in one go?
She had thought about going to the police and lodging complaints, taking out summons, generally going through the legal procedures to recoup her money but her simple mind could not fathom the lengthy court proceedings and legal.
Had she the money, she certainly would have hired the local thugs to act as debt collectors for her.
For now, she wonders why it got so crazy. Perhaps, she’s better of sticking with what she’s got – the good old buai market.
When her son was not able to enroll, she wept bitterly and cursed those who caused her into this situation.
She had been generous in her heart, but she lacked to aggression to get it back. And those hawks had preyed on her goodness.
She wonders how these people will live their lives in the knowledge that they have an outstanding debt and that they’ve gone and spoilt a young life with the sky at his feet.
She wonders too about how the family will react to meeting those so-called friends who came to benefit from the kindness of her soul and yet are not making any real effort to repay their debts.
Gloria is a fighter, a struggler who would never say die and she would persist to put her son through school.
She just feels sorry for her debtors because she knows what the Wise Counsellor says of them: “The man or woman who has no inner life is slave to his or her surrounding …”

 

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