There will be three long queues into heaven. The first will be for children and people who refuse to grow up. The second will be for adults and the third for companies. On that day – a clear day with very blue skies – an angel with a very fastidiously groomed beard will walk down the long queues shouting “Greenlight Planet!? Greenlight Planet?!” Then from down the queue you will hear a voice saying, “Over here!” Other companies that sold sling bags and beard oils, door handles, internet, booze, will turn and crane their necks to have a look at where the voice came from.
The angel will walk up to the voice and say, “Greenlight Planet?”
“You got an ID?” The angel will ask. Later, when the story is told, people will say that he had a milky voice and that he smelled of pine.
Greenlight Planet will rummage through its kikapu for an ID because Greenlight Planet is the kind of company that carries a kikapu made from hyacinth into heaven. You know, green energy and all that jazz. The angel will check the ID and say, “God said you jump the queue. Follow me.” And then there will be some murmuring about favoritism in the queue, “Why do they get to jump the queue?” one will ask, to which the angel will say, “They gave Syombua a job!”
“Who?” a company that sells coffee will ask. The angel will roll his eyes and move on.
So yeah. Our girl from last week’s story got a job. She started training yesterday. It’s in customer service. They design and distribute solar energy for homes to mostly people in shags (they call them ‘underserved” population), who, if I get this correctly, can also pay in installments. You must have heard of Sun King? That’s their brand. They light up homes and now they have shone a light in Syombua’s life. That’s just a ticket straight to heaven. But when they get to heaven they will struggle because there is already so much light there. And because some of their products come with these cool radios, they will also not be able to use them there because, well, there are angels who play the harp there. So, they will just chill the whole day, eating grapes. Isn’t that what heaven is all about anyway?
Syombua started training yesterday. They are on The Priory, a stone’s-throw from Yaya Center. Collins Lumumba, the HR, she says, was nice. The team was young and self-assured, she said. It felt like the first day of school. At lunch [provided] she ate alone. She ate potatoes, chicken and spinach. Later in the day she was relaxed. She spoke to a young girl next to her. Told her that she should move out of her mom’s before she ever gets married if she wants to. You know, explore the world and yourself.
“She was complaining about chores at her mom’s,” she told me.
“Those are very serious problems,” I mumbled.
She called her daughter but she refused to speak to her because this was the first time she had left her home for a long stretch of time without her in a while. Children only think of themselves and their silly cartoons.
At the end of the evening she went all the way to Sarit Center to drink a Coke. “It felt so foreign,” she said, “It was getting dark and I wasn’t home. Just sitting here, listening, watching people go about their evening business. I felt like I could sit there for a long time.”
She wants me to thank you for all your overwhelming emails. Thank you for those who offered to help in one way or the other. And thank you GREENLIGHT ENERGY for coming through and being the light in her dark tunnel. May you keep thriving here and in heaven.
This is the post for this week because it’s a celebration. We are drinking punch and eating cake. Someone – ye first to comment – put on some music.
To buy ‘THURSDAYS’ or ‘DRUNK’, click here.