The Bar
By
Terry Minett
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Copyright 2014 Terry Minett
Cover design by
Obusa
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This ebook must not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopied, recorded without the written permission of the Author
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All characters in this book are fictitious, any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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INDEX
Chapter 1 - Just Another Day
Chapter 2 - Joseph's Story
Chapter 3 - Brenda's Story
Chapter 4 - Another Drink
Chapter 5 - Peace's Story
Chapter 6 - The Heat of the Day
Chapter 7 - George's Story
Chapter 8 - Return to the Pit
Chapter 9 - Barbara's Story
Chapter 10 - Jenny's Story
Chapter 11 - The Boss is Back
Chapter 12 - Bobo's Story
Chapter 13 - Sam's Story
Chapter 14 - Afternoon Dream
Chapter 15 - Godfrey's Story
Chapter 16 - Richard's Story
Chapter 17 - Claws Out
Chapter 18 - Pastor Benjamin's Story
Chapter 19 - Born Again
Chapter 20 - Patrick's Story
Chapter 21 - Fresh Air
Chapter 22 - My Nightmare
Chapter 23 - Reality Check
Chapter 24 - Wind and Rain
Chapter 25 - Cosy and Snug
Chapter 26 - Ben's Story
Chapter 27 - Surprise
Chapter 28 - United or Spurs
Chapter 29 - The Cut
Chapter 30 - The Past
Chapter 31 - Battle Commence
Chapter 32 - The Morning
About the Author
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Chapter 1
Just another day
It's 11 o'clock in the morning and here I am sat propping up the bar. It doesn't seem that long ago I was leaving to go to my bed. Maybe it wasn't, drinking this local brew is recipe for disaster.
Joseph the barman is already in place, he doesn't have much to do this time of the day. The bar will be empty until this evening. He's a nice lad, comes from a village not far from the town.
My glass is empty, I order another drink. My mind starts to wander, how did I get into this situation? I came here thirty years ago thereabouts, to teach the young kids. I enjoyed it so much; I would never have got the same pleasure teaching the little brats in England. Life was sometimes hard and difficult, especially during the days of the rebel movement the CDF, which stands for Christian Democratic Fighters. These people were not Christian or democratic but they were fighters. The people they fought most of the time were the unarmed villagers, killing men, women and children, no one was spared. When they did face the military the battle was short and they made a quick exit into the bush. In those days the only safe place to be was in the town, the rebels never attacked the town it was well protected.
I remember going to a village about 10 miles away one day and I was stopped by the rebels. I wasn't sure if I would survive, but giving them my money and a few other possessions secured my freedom. A villager would not have been so lucky.
Travelling outside the town was pretty much impossible without a military escort; even then it did not guarantee security. You could never be sure if you would reach your destination.
Joseph puts the television on, that's a requisite for any bar or restaurant here. The news, always so depressing, the world is so messed up, or maybe I am.
Another empty glass, I shout to Joseph, “refill please Joseph,” he responds quickly.
Looking around the bar it's not changed since I first came in all those years ago. A few different owners but the decor is still the same. The bar is made of solid wood boarding with a horrid glossy dye; you can see the brush marks. Stools are hand made and so tall, if you fall off you could get a nasty injury. This I have experienced, late at night full of the home brew I have hit the floor many times. The back shelves are filled with a bottle of each beer that they sell and bottles of Johnnie Walker Red and Black Label. Looking at the label it's usually duty free, collected on a trip abroad no doubt. Taking up a large area at the back of the bar are two chest freezers, Joseph is filling them up ready for the evening. Two small upright coolers, one belonging to Coca Cola and the other to a beer company called Native completes the arrangements.
The television dies, the ceiling fan too, electricity cut, that's the norm. When football is on the bar is full, everyone is enjoying the game. The electricity goes out and everyone is unhappy, but they can do nothing except wait until it returns, maybe soon, maybe tomorrow.
“Hello Ben, how are you today?” a voice shouts out behind me. I turn around to see Brenda coming through the door. Brenda works here too, usually looking after the clients sat outside. She's a lovely girl, nice temperament. In England I suppose we would call her the local bike. She seems to have slept with most men in the town. Many a time a disgruntled wife or girlfriend has come into the bar and Brenda has at to defend herself. Like a lot of women here she has two children and is the breadwinner of the family. The father of the children died a few years ago. “Good morning beautiful, how are you?” she likes to flirt. “I'm fine; did you sleep here last night?” ha-ha she's a funny girl. “No, I was in my own bed.” “Who was the lucky lady?” her face is full of mischief. “Get on with your work or I will beat you.” She runs out of the bar to the kitchen with loud laughter coming from her small frame.
I need the toilet, “Joseph fill up my glass.” I walk out into the courtyard and across to the pit, avoiding the sheets drying on the line. The courtyard is surrounded by rooms for the traveller. I think most of the time they are used for the men to bring the prostitutes back. I reach a wall with a small wooden door, the smell is terrible. I open the door and go inside what is a room with no roof. Facing me is a hole in the ground, that's the pit, a place to piss and shit. I try not to look down while I empty my bladder. This pit is used by the men and the women; how the women manage I'm not sure. Even the men must have difficulty emptying their bowels. It's also just one room, so everyone is in here together. I have seen over the years drunken people coming back into the bar covered from head to toe with excrement. They have lost their balance and fallen in, how they mange to get out I have no idea.
Back in the bar I find my glass full. Sam the owner of the bar is making his morning visit to see that everything is in order. “Hello Ben, you got home ok last night?” I don't think I was that drunk. “Yes safe and sound, slept like a baby.” “Are you in tonight, there is football?" Oh a noisy night, not into the football really but it makes for a good atmosphere. “Yes I will be in tonight Sam,” “ok see you later.” Sam moves off to do the bookkeeping with Joseph, check his takings for last night. Sam is a politician, a crook I think but most of them are. Sam is a very generous man and fair with the people working for him. People here have no working rights, they can be abused, money withheld and they can do nothing about it. A lot of employers do this.
Brenda walks back into the bar with a big smile on her face. “What are you looking so happy about?” I ask her. “I am just happy to see you Ben.” She is up to something. “Where are you going now?” I ask her. “To the market, I want to buy some meat and potatoes.” She skips away leaving me in peace to enjoy my drink.
The television comes back to life and the ceiling fan picks up speed, the electricity is back. The chest freezers start to hum; maybe we will have cold beer tonight.
I look over at Sam and Joseph; they are still scrutinizing the books. There is a pile of notes and
coins all to be counted. I'm not sure if Sam makes a great profit, but he enjoys the evenings with everyone. I think his money is made elsewhere by dubious means, that's the advantage of being a politician. He is married with children but I have never seen his wife in here. He is here every evening, at least twice a week he is in one of the rooms with a woman, whether prostitute or mistress, I'm not sure.
I notice a lizard in one corner near the ceiling. It must be a simple life, just waiting to feed on insects. There can't be many predators in here and insects are in abundance. It races to another position, amazing how it grips the surface and doesn't fall.
In to the bar come the first of the hawkers, this one is selling clothes. He has maybe fifteen pairs of denim jeans on his arm, the weight must be great. Shirts are piled neatly on top of his head; in the other arm he is carrying a few jackets. These people amaze me; they walk all day from place to place trying to sell their merchandise.
I feel a sharp pain in my back followed by laughter. Brenda has returned from the market and on route to the kitchen she prods a finger into me.
“Bye Ben, see you later,” I acknowledge with a wave of my hand, Sam is off to do whatever he does. Books added up, all in order to the delight of Joseph. Any mistakes or money short is taken from his salary, that's the norm here.
“Joseph another drink please,” Joseph takes my glass over to a big container and fills it up. He returns to the bar and gives me my drink. Now his work is complete until this evening so he joins me at the bar. He tells me about Sam, local gossip, who's sleeping with who. We are joined by Brenda; she too is finished until the evening arrives. She brings a plate of rice and vegetables that we all share. I can't remember but I think I taught Joseph and Brenda for a short time. Lots of kids get a few years education and then drop out, their parents having no money. It's very sad really because they want to learn.
I have known them for a long-time and I know their lives have not been easy. What they have gone through is heartbreak really.
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Chapter 2
Joseph's story
I was born in a small village near the town; I had 6 brothers and two sisters. My family was very poor; because of this I did not have a chance to be educated. My father and mother worked the small piece of land we had, they grew vegetables to feed us for the year and to sell on the roadside. Sometimes the rains were small and we produced little, other times we had lots and life was good. Being the youngest my first job in the morning was to go to the stream with my sister and collect water. This was a long walk of about two miles there and back. We would carry the containers on our heads, they were very heavy. We would always stop on the way back and sit under a mango tree treating ourselves to a fresh mango, they tasted so good. When we got back our mother would complain that we had taken a long-time. If she was in a bad mood she would beat us. After eating breakfast I would go to the fields to work with my mother and father. The day was long and the sun hot, it was very hard work.
Once a week a man came to the village, his name was Mr Ben. He worked has a teacher at the mission school in the big town where I had visited once with my father. He would give us free teaching, he was a very nice man. Our classroom was under a big tree in the centre of the village. We sat in the sand and listen to Mr Ben tell us so many things. He taught us some tables, once two is two, two two's are four; we would sing them out like a song. So when I say I have no education, it is not quite correct. I had some small learning thanks to Mr Ben.
The education stopped when the rebels became active in the area. It was too dangerous for Mr Ben to come to the village. The only safe place was the town; there you had the army to protect you.
The rebels were getting closer and closer every day. We had heard the stories of villages not fifteen miles away being raided. People were killed, women were raped and children were taken. We had no protection, no police, no soldiers, the only thing you could do was run if they came.
One day my mother told me that my small sister and I were going to stay in the town for safety. We would be staying with an uncle, a brother of my father. Neither of us wanted to leave the family but we had no option. My other younger brothers were going to the big city a long way away. They would also be staying with relatives. That would leave my big sister and two big brothers to stay and help my mother and father in the village.
When we arrived at my uncle's I remember the day well, the rains were falling we were both soaked through. One of my cousins met us from the car. In the house we were shown where we would sleep, the bedroom was full. There were already six children; we made the number up to eight. The room had a small window; it was dark even during the day. The room was about eight feet by ten feet; there was no space at all.
We were made to work hard; my uncle was not a nice man. He would drink a lot; often he would beat us children and his wife. I remember he came home one evening and we were all sleeping. He woke everybody because he was drunk and started to argue with my auntie. We were all too frightened to go outside and see what was happening. Next morning my aunt's face was very swollen, her eye was closed.
Walking in the town I would see Mr Ben, I don't think he remembered me from the village. There were lots of children at night sleeping on the path, they were orphans. They had come into the town, they had no family left, they had been killed by the rebels. Some but only a few were runaways; they had runaway from home because life was not good for them. They would try to do small jobs, begging and stealing, their ages ranged from five years old up to fifteen years old.
One day I did something wrong, I just dropped a cup by accident. My uncle gave me the biggest beating I had ever had, bigger and harder than my parents had ever given me. For days and days my body was hurting and I really wanted to go back to my family in the village.
We were still hearing the stories about the rebels attacking villages and villagers'; travelling outside the town was not safe. One morning my auntie sat my sister and me down and told us that mother and father were dead. I just remember holding my sister and crying, the crying went on for days and days. The attack had also killed my big sister and big brother. The other brother had disappeared, we didn't know if he had been taken by the rebels or just escaped into the bush. We would just pray that he was still alive.
Two years had passed since our family had perished at the hands of the rebels. My sister was starting to develop into a woman. One day she told me that our uncle had tried to get too close to her. She was in the house alone with him, he called her over. He grabbed her and pulled her close, he started to touch her breasts. She stood unsure of what to do, finally building up the courage to tell him to stop. He stopped and gave her a hard slap around the head. This was a big problem, if we told auntie she would blame my sister, we would be thrown out of the house. I told my sister to never be alone with him no matter what the circumstances.
Life was hard, there were children worse off than us but I felt that everything was against us. My sister was still having problems with our uncle, I needed to find a way out of this but what could I do. I tried to talk to the people from the church but they would not believe what I was saying. Then one day my sister came to me and told me that she had been raped by our uncle, she was very distraught. Worse was to come, she was pregnant. When I confided with my auntie she was very angry, but not with her husband, with my sister and I. We were thrown out of the house; with nowhere to go we approached the church. Fortunately they took my sister in because she was pregnant, but not me. I would now be sleeping on the streets with the rest of the orphans and runaways.
One morning walking around looking for a way of earning some money or food, I was called by one of the people from the church. He took me to the church grounds where I was taken into a small room. In there I was given bad news yet again. My sister had died in child birth; I think she was fourteen years old. I was devastated, I was now totally alone, all of my family gone. I started to think about how she smuggled food out of the church for me. I tho
ught about my uncle who had made her pregnant. The thoughts were a mix of good and bad. I really wanted something bad to happen to my uncle. My mind was going in every possible direction; life was never going to be the same without my little sister.
Thanks to a nice lady in the church who managed to persuade her superiors, I was allowed to stay there. No more sleeping on the path. It was here that I met Brenda who would later become my work colleague. The days were spent doing chores, cleaning, gardening. Sometimes I was allowed to sit in on some of the lessons. I would borrow books and try to educate myself in the evenings.
I was now sixteen years old, the church wanted me out. I had nothing, family, certificates of learning, nothing. Jobs were very difficult for people to find, even for those that had university diplomas. One day I was called into see Mr John, he worked for the church but was not a preacher. There was another man with him, his name was Mr Sam. Mr Sam had a local bar in the town, he wanted me to live there and do chores like washing and cleaning. This was what I had been praying for, some security in my life. My sister would be so happy for me if she was here, I did miss her so much.
Work was going well with Mr Sam. I was paid a small amount of money, I had a room which I shared with two other boys and I was fed. The work was hard but no more than the work I had done in my parent's field. Some weeks I would do the laundry, washing the bedding from the rooms. Sometimes a customer who was staying in the guesthouse would pay me to do their washing. The hardest thing to wash was the sheets, they were so big, trying to wring them out by hand was not easy. Other weeks I would clean the rooms, this I did not like. Often the customers left the rooms in a mess, used condoms littered the floors, I had to pick them up. One day I thought the room was empty; I walked in to see a man and a woman having sex, the man shouted and threw a shoe at me.
One day Mr Sam called me over, I thought the worst, he doesn't want me anymore. “Joseph, I have been watching you, you work well. I want you to work behind the bar.” I was totally surprised; working behind the bar was putting a lot of trust in me. “Oh thank you so much Mr Sam, I will not let you down.”