Apparently, he decided his use for the table was now more pressing because he came into my office during the night and took the table!
I arrived at work and found the table missing. Nothing was in its place so there was a gaping hole where the table used to be. Hussein moved it to a locked room so I couldn’t go take it back. I called him and told him this was “matitizo kubwa”—Swahili for a “big f@%*ing problem”—for me because there were materials in the drawer of that table which I needed for work now. He remained ever so polite and came to the office a few hours—and a few more phone calls—later and I found him sitting in his previously locked office where my table now holds a photocopy machine.
There is nothing particularly special about this table. Except it was mine. And we used it for work seven days a week. And it had a drawer where we kept things we need for work every day. Now it is holding a photocopier in another office I don’t have a key to. And even more insulting, the contents of the drawer are things like rubber bands and a remote control for the air conditioner. I know. I looked.
I tried to have a calm discussion about how Hussein could make things livable for both of us by shifting tables so that I have the one with a drawer since I need a safe place to keep important things like money away from drug addicts. And he needs a way to keep a photocopy machine off the floor. He responded to my comments by walking out of the office, locking the door, getting on his bicycle, and riding away.
Hours later he returned. I cornered him in another room and told him “Yesterday, you had a problem and I had no problem. Today, I have a problem and you have no problem. I want to find a way where we both have no problem. I need a table with a drawer.” He told me “you have to give me a chance. I will find the drawer.”
