Three Decades

   12    

I’ve written about this before, however between 2005-2007 I worked for Village Market, marketing department. Good times. It’s the only time I ever weighed 92kgs. No children, no wife, I was doing little, eating more. Life was very silky. There was a colleague we worked with called Walter Agama. He was the office messenger, now referred to as Office Runners or Admin Assistant. I remember his walk as much as I remember his face; He possessed the gait of a teenage deer. He went and appeared around corners very fast. You blinked and he was a ghost. A blur of a man. Always carrying an envelope. We never really interacted much, apart from the usual office banter whenever he would bring something to my boss, a wonderful lady called Ms Priscillah Laljee.

After I left in 2007 I forgot all about him until our stars crossed again recently during the mall’s 30 year celebration and we had a startling (a tad dramatic, I will admit) conversation about things and I was impressed by his insights. I have decanted the conversation here for clarity.

Here is how that conversation went.

Walter, you don’t age—kwani, how old are you now?
I’m 54, my friend. I’ve worked at Village Market for as long as it has existed—thirty years now. I came here when I was 23 or 24 years old. I was young, buana.

God is great. But you’ve worked in one place for 30 years! I remember where you used to sit—upstairs in that tiny loft with the slanted roof that housed accounts. So, the same desk for thirty years? Not the same desk, per se. The space has since been renovated and changed—but yes, the same area.

Same round, submarine-looking window that looks out on the same side of the mall. I struggle to stay in the same room for over an hour! Now I can’t imagine working in the same place for 30 years. Weren’t you bored?
Bored? [Chuckles] You only get bored if you can’t wake up to a new character in yourself each day. You’ll never find the environment conducive if you don’t work on yourself. Boredom isn’t the result of the environment—it’s your inability to adapt your character in tune with it.

Wow, Walter… so, wait, what is your character now?
A character that is grounded. One who appreciates his cup. I have a full cup. But I’m still open to learning, to growing, to meeting people and listening to them. That’s the thing—we all want people to listen to us, but there’s no learning in that. You’ll be surprised how fast time passes when you’re eager to learn. Time just flew by because I’ve been learning.

Living is learning. You must have had many highlights in those thirty years… For starters, my role has changed. I’m no longer a messenger—I’m now an accountant. [Chuckle]

Oh yeah? Look at that.
Yeah. I also have a family now. When I started here, I was a bachelor. I got married while working here and had children.

How many children?
We don’t count children where I come from, Biko…

Like the Maasai.
[Chuckles] Yes. But I have five—three have finished university, the others are in Grade Eight and Five. But you know how it is—you also find your brother needs school fees, your sister needs school fees, and they become part of your children. We must value that. You choose your family, but God also chooses something else for you. In these thirty years, we’ve also buried people—colleagues.

I heard Mr. Ghosh died. [He was the chief accountant.]
Yes, Mr. Ghosh left us. Many colleagues have come and gone. We buried the director’s parents, my own parents died while I was working here… so many changes in thirty years.

How have you changed yourself?
Oh, that’s a heavy question. I’m not the same person, obviously. I’ve dropped old habits. You can’t live a new life while clinging to old habits. Nothing changes around you if you stay the same. That’s what I’ve learned—most people complain about their lives not changing, but they themselves refuse to change.

So, what did you have to change about yourself?
I dropped old habits, like I said. I chose a different lifestyle to raise a family. I deviated from certain paths, because if you don’t, you’ll go astray. Alcohol, for instance, and keeping bad company—those things make you lose focus.

Walter, working in one place for thirty years might be seen as dedication or loyalty, right? But it could also be seen as a lack of ambition. You know? I don’t know what you think of that… What is ambition to you?
Ambition is self-upgrade. When you look at your life and say, “This isn’t enough,” and then change things and grow—that’s ambition. When you show value at work and someone acknowledges that value and rewards it—that’s ambition. My life isn’t what it was ten years ago. I’ve upgraded. So was I not ambitious? Can’t ambition exist in one place? Or must it mean hopping from job to job?

That’s a good question. By the way, how did you end up working here?
My religion is the Bahá’í Faith. When I came to Nairobi from shags—Vihiga—in early 1993, I used to attend a Bahá’í center. That’s where I met Hamed [one of the founders of Village Market]. We used to worship together. In our faith, you’re reminded that you’re a teacher, so every weekend we would organize teaching trips. We’d travel around the country, to remote villages, teaching the Bahá’í Faith.

You guys were like missionaries…
Yes, [laughs], something like that. Though “missionary” is more of a Christian term. We just say “teacher.” I can stand before you and teach you about faith. When you accept the Bahá’í Faith, you instantly become a teacher—someone who can start meaningful, teaching conversations. That’s how I met Hamed—we bonded over that. And one thing led to another.

Why have you stayed here for so long? Thirty years! There must be something that kept you.
I stayed because they treated me with dignity. That’s what everyone wants, right? To be treated with dignity—not as a messenger, or someone with a PhD—but as a human being. You could have the highest qualifications, but if your employer doesn’t respect you, what does that mean? This hasn’t been just a job—it’s been an experience. You have to consider where you place your happiness and contentment.

That’s a good word—contentment. Glad you brought it up. What does it mean to you?
A human being has two important aspects—material and spiritual. The point where these two meet is where contentment lies, at least for me. Ignore one, and the other won’t work. It’s about finding balance.

By the way, how much was your salary when you started 30 years ago?
I was earning 1,800 shillings a month. [Laughs] Then it was raised to 3,800 after I was confirmed six months later. That 3,800 helped me build my house in Vihiga.

Really?
Yes. I built my house on a salary of 3,800. Money is a funny thing, Biko. I come from a poor background—I struggled with school fees and all that. It taught me the real value of money. When you grow up with little, you learn discipline. And money needs discipline. Your money can do a lot if you let it. But we often stand in its way—telling it things like, “You’re not enough,” “You won’t do much,” “I need more…” That’s bad money language./p>

Are you thinking of retirement?
If you go to Vihiga Boys in Vihiga Constituency—that’s where my home is. I hope to tend to my cows, to run some side hustles. I’d like to supply milk and eggs. That’s the life I’m looking forward to.