The Hyena's Grasp

My tiny office groans at me as I clock in for my shift. From the creaking door to the squeaking lockers, it cries of exhaustion and disgust. We had a good relationship when I was youthful and had the tingles of a first job; when it was pristine and smelled of fresh paint and new furniture. Now we are just two bored companions trying to fight into another day. Gone are the days when I used to arrive an hour earlier to clean my desk, which has now become one with the brown dust that seeks more room in my lungs. The windows have formed a tint that extends into the room and forces out tears from my eyes every other day. I can not pinpoint the exact moment when my work ceased to bring me joy, but I know that a significant part of it was undoubtedly due to the actions of my stingy, sadistic boss.

As I move closer to my desk, I am forced to withstand the stale smell of the rotting sealing board. I wearily settle into my worn-out office chair, feeling its wobbly structure struggle to support me. Years of Mama Nene's delectable food cart offerings have left me with more flesh than the chair can handle. I can't help but wonder when its bolts will finally give out, taking me down with it. Surprisingly, I find myself unfazed by the prospect. In fact, I view it as the much-needed push to finally commit to the gym. Despite my numerous requests, a better chair has eluded me for years. Meanwhile, I've watched as new furniture, coffee machines, pen holders, MacBooks, and unnecessary gadgets find their way into Matthew's office. Sadly, there never seems to be a budget for replacing my trusty, albeit rugged, chair.

As I power up my laptop to start the day, I see him barreling toward my office and I begin preparing myself for what promises to be an excruciatingly long day. He almost tears the door off its hinges as he storms in, sporting his typical gorilla-like appearance with a scowling expression. Without a word, he slams a file onto my desk and launches into his usual tirade. I've grown accustomed to his complete lack of discipline and respect, so I simply take a seat and prepare to endure his onslaught.

"What is this!" he roars. "three times I have disapproved of this piece. Three times! yet you still find a way to sneak it to me. I won't say it again, Mia; get rid of it, or I will be forced to get rid of you!" his voice echoes through the room.

"I will not get rid of it," I retort, my voice trembling but determined. 

"What?" he says, his eyes narrowing in disbelief.

"I said I will not scrap it. It's a perfect story and if I have to go down trying to get it published, I will," I contest.

"Do not provoke me more than I am willing to take," he concludes then paces back to his office.

I remain seated, staring at the file folder and contemplating how to handle the situation. The folder seems to be urging me to take action. The words on the front page convey a sense of urgency, warning me that I must act or face further mistreatment from my inhuman boss. It's as if they are haunting me with their boldness.

THE TIME TO LOOSEN THE HYENA'S GRASP IS UPON US

The reason why Matthew is adamant about not printing the article is crystal clear to me, and he knows that I am aware of his reasons. As the Editor-in-Chief, his biases have always been apparent, and this time, the article hits too close to home for him. It appears more like an exposé than a random fictional piece, therefore sparking a personal reaction. In my opinion, the article is compelling and flawless not only because it champions the idea that everyone's contribution to the growth of a society should be equally recognized, which is the central theme, but also because it offers a fresh perspective on the perils of granting excessive power to egotistical individuals. As a qualified journalist with a Master's degree in Journalism and Mass Communication, who has devoted a decade of my best years to this company without ever receiving a promotion, the article resonates with me and many others. Karani Publishers was once a thriving company with nationwide recognition, but that was now in the past. Mismanagement led to dwindling profits and the reluctance to adapt to new media, caused us to fall behind as up-and-coming media houses surged ahead. Despite ten years of dedication, I have only received a meager twenty percent raise, while individuals like Matthew have seen their incomes tripled.

I feel utterly drained as I survey the office, and Matthew's constant presence only exacerbates the situation. The lack of janitorial services is noticeable, a result of insufficient funds to hire additional staff. My stagnation appears to be long-term, with no sign of improvement on the horizon. My mind feels clouded and burdened so I decide to leave the office. Stepping into the smoking zone, I offer a feeble wave to Mama Nene and her daughter Nene as they set up their food cart. I've witnessed Nene's growth from a carefree nine-year-old to a young adult who now addresses me by name without adding the "Aunty" prefix. I feel ashamed to smoke in her presence, so I simply sit and soak in the sunlight. She reminds me of my daughter Amy, who shares the same strong personality and is of similar age. Oh, Amy! I wish things were going better for her. It's been challenging to witness her grieve her father's passing, and the added hardship of her being denied a visa to attend his funeral in the USA has only compounded the situation.

I wish I had chosen a better father for her though. She deserved a father who could wrap his arms around her and give her warm hugs, not one who sent tiny emojis once a year on her birthday after she texted him about it. She deserved to sit on his lap and find comfort on his shoulders when she was struggling with her fears, not just see his face on her phone for a brief video call and then be told to call back later. She deserved more time with him, a father who was truly present, not one who left without leaving behind any tangible memories. She deserved to have the chance to meet him, even if it would have been just once, to see him in person, say her goodbyes, but I couldn't give her that. The embassy denied her that opportunity, and the universe denied her so much more.

The mere thought of Amy brings a flood of emotions, causing tears to well up in my eyes. It's hard to discern whether it's the unfulfilled longing she carries to meet her father, or the growing distance between us that pains me the most. My attempts to mend our fractured relationship have been dishearteningly futile. It's as if we're speaking different languages now, and my own life fails to ignite any passion in her. How can I bring solace to a daughter who has spent her entire life yearning for a father who will never return? How do I begin to tend to wounds that have remained unhealed for nineteen long years? Her very skin serves as a constant reminder of her dual heritage, neither of which has ever fully embraced her and I can't help but think that I have failed as a mother.

Our conversations have dwindled to brief exchanges, almost as if Adam's passing eroded the foundation of our bond. I've tried to coax her back home, but she seems to prefer distancing herself from what she perceives as a lost cause. Despite most of my calls going unanswered, I still persist in reaching out to her every day. I do not understand what she says sometimes but when she received my call this morning with a relentless sob and said to me that she no longer feels my vibe and that my lifestyle is sus, I knew I had to fix myself.

I'm in dire need for a smoke from all the thinking but then Nene's presence and the reminder that my smoking habit is one of the reasons why Amy is withdrawing from me, ruins that comfort. Maybe I'll have a puff or two after work then start working on a permanent cleanliness and hope that each day away from a cigarette, brings Amy closer back home.

I feel a stirring inside me that assures me it's time to do myself a favour and make that bold decision I've been hesitant about for far too long. My heart speaks to me in a different frequency and I am reminded of my capabilities. I am confident in my decision to resign from Karani Publishers and embark on a journey of self-discovery. I am reminded of the networks and connections I have built over the years, and I am gaining the courage to seriously consider establishing my own publishing house – a place where I will find solace in uncovering all the truths and create a serene environment for myself and others like me, a place of freedom and balance.

My way back to the office seems unusually long, and even as I rush to type my resignation letter, I still feel like I am not fast enough. I am having doubts about acting on impulse and the conviction that Matthew will not receive my resignation kindly is not helping the situation. Moments later, after receiving my resignation letter, he steps into my office looking agitated and then starts hurling insults and saying that I would not be paid because I have breached the contract by not providing a 3-week notice. He then orders security to throw me and my belongings out, but I step forward and give him a piece of my mind. 

"I have put up with your ego and immaturity for so long that I have formed a wall against your insults. You are not a boss, Matthew, you will never be. You are just an arrogant blowhard people put up with, and I hope everybody else under your leadership gains the courage to stand up to you someday. Goodbye, hope to see you never!"

I had formed a lasting bond with the guards so instead of obeying his orders to throw me out, Leshan and Symoh, the two security guards on duty, with whom we had shared cigarettes before and I had tipped every other morning for guiding me to a parking space, help me with my belongings and accompany me out with praises and admiration.

I drive away knowing that without me and with the zeal to right all wrongs done to me, the downfall of Karani Publishers is imminent. I am ready to begin anew and when I reach home, I text Amy and let her know what I have done and how I plan to fix my life. After a few minutes, my phone lets out a ding:

You're the GOAT, mum! Also, I have missed your chapos, I hope to find them when I come home. See you soon.