Three days later, it was on a sunny morning that we headed to the Okoroka public school which was stated as the place of the meeting. Our delegation comprised two vehicles, mister minister and two colleagues were the passengers in one of them with the presence of a gendarme, me and two other gendarmes were occupying my car. With three gendarmes with us, we were ready for any eventuality. Nevertheless, I still couldn’t feel secure, a somber feeling disturbed me, and I couldn’t stop fearing the horrific drama that could be if the meeting turned into a mess.
We rode slowly, coming closer to the meeting point, as the minutes were passing, anxiety was increasing in us. I could feel my heart beating fast as if it were begging me to run and prevent myself from the tension that was coming forward. When we came to the last yard preceding the school, there was an insecure silence. As I step out of my car, a strange wind touched my skin and provoked goose bumps all over my body; fortunately, my suit was large enough to hide this shame. Just as soon as we penetrated the school, ear-splitting male’s voices welcomed us with much hostility just to show us their passion and fervor. Their vocal aggression aggravated low groans in our group; I was seeing my colleagues trembling like little cats, this was disgraceful!
The more we were progressing across the courtyard, the more the tones of their voices were louder; it was as if they could feel our apprehensiveness and find motivation in it. We were moving like a convoy crossing an arid desert, checking on one another, all fearful like children except one person: mister minister was not displaying any sign of fright, he was instead looking determined. He was slowly and quietly moving forward despite the noise of the protestors. I knew that these people would have physically attacked us if the gendarmes and their huge guns were not there to frighten them. It was surely because of not being able to physically express their hostility that they put their dark excitement in their vocal cords by yelling their anger with much virulence.
A little time later, we noticed a skinny silhouette approaching us; it was an under-weight man, very tall, a pile of bones covered by a dry skin similar to those of far north people. As he came closer, he gladly introduced himself as the leader of the union before displaying a devilish smile which exposed his bad intentions. He then asked us to follow him toward one classroom at the border of the courtyard. We did as he asked, but dashed toward the classroom as boots started back louder since the protesters saw their said leader address us which much confident and defiance. Once we entered the room, we saw three men with somber looks as skinny as their leader, seated on a table with many documents. Even though their unfriendliness was really frustrating, their physical appearance was not as dangerous as I imagine; they were just simple teachers with immense spectacles. After introducing them, their leader then invited us to have a seat with a more sinister aura. From the atmosphere in the room at the beginning of the talk, we knew that this will be a harsh confrontation and that our opponent will do everything possible to have the last word. Subsequently, the group of strikers who welcomed us noisy at the courtyard came at the windows with the same hostility toward us, but this time with less noise although they were still spitting insults. They were displaying the favor of supporters of a football team, encouraging their side with vigor, hoping to enjoy the victory at the end of the encounter. The whole meeting was like a fight in a Roman arena, a gladiator battle where surge pressure and intimidation were weapons, everyone fighting to win at all cost.
Thirty minutes after the beginning of the debates, each party had doggedly to their positions. Mister Minister surprise everybody with his character, he who was known to be ordinary meek shown a different face during the talk. Even the openness to dialogue he seemed to display before our arrival to the meeting point had totally disappeared in his manners, he was defending the controversial labor law as firmly as if his position of the minister depended on it. The leaders of the protestation were as unyielding as him, but on the contrary of him, the more the time was passing the more clears signs of impatience were displayed in their attitude. Regarding our communication prior to the negotiation and the assurance they had, they were supposed to be disappointed.
“I have heard your complaints, just permit me to discuss it with the head of state and get back to you.”
It was with these words that mister minister ended hopes about finding a consensual solution to end the crisis in a little while. With this promise he had just extended the lifespan of this upsetting problem, I was deeply discontented, this answer means more stressful time in a period already to stressful. But I wasn’t as upset as the strikers, and the reason for their anger was deeper than mine: how was it possible to succeed to meet the minister, discuss with him on a table and finally end up with an unsure promise?
“We know where politician promises always end,” I heard some of them affirming.
Subsequently, the din became louder and provoked insecurity among our group. Tempers were flaring, tension had built to bursting, and people’s nerves were fraying, our bodyguard noticed the danger coming, they were now on their toes. One of them whispered something to mister minister, surely to notify him the emergency of living the place. A minute later, we all left our chair at the same time and started heading to the door hurriedly. But to our surprise, the group of strikers outside during the talk was now blocking the way out angrily. Hopefully, the gendarmes used their ferocity to free the exit. However, therefore a clash occurred; people were punching me, kicking me hard, and hurting me so bad. I was sadly witnessing what I predicted anxiously for weeks since the day my boss decided not to listen to my advice and instead follow his dangerous plan, what was the result: we got our ass whoop!! I who did everything to prevent this was now struggling to save my life and health in this rush like a trapped mouse. It took me a great effort to come out of it and none of the gendarmes came to my rescue as they were all focused on mister minister.
Despite all this violence from people, we couldn’t expect this kind of animal behavior, the entire group succeeded to return safely in our car. My clothes were clear proof of the brutality in that rush as it was torn and wrinkled almost everywhere, no need to add that I wasn’t as glamour as Caroline as me to be. I was shocked but my colleagues seemed more traumatized than me, I could see the terror on their attitude, one of them was whipping his sweating face while groaning like a maltreated puppy. None of us had done this physical effort for years, my back really hurt but compared to others, my situation was better.
Mister Minister came out of this with no scratches or damage; he was as fresh as before our arrival, elegant in his very expensive suit. Concerning him, the gendarme did a wonderful job; they protected him perfectly but what about us? We could normally take this as an injustice and started feeling a kind of jealousy but what would have been the need for this kind of feeling and conclusion? That’s how things are in our country… There was at least something to be content of, nobody died, and they shot no striker although they were enough reasons for the gendarmes to use their guns; however, many of those protesters were rudely brutalized too.
But all this would have never happened if only mister minister followed my plan, I was upset, all this was his fault! We were obviously in a weak position; we were a small group in enemy territory, this meeting should have not been held. But since he always wanted to be looked like the angel, the hero, what could we do? His obsession was risky for his workers and I had to tell him that eyes to eyes, I was too angry I needed to let it out.
It was with all this resentment that I came to his office the following day. He who considered me as his son needed to hear