Igwe Orizu is distracted by staffing problems in his company. (Slow start).
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Joseph Okuru sat nervously across from Igwe Orizu as his boss perused the folders he had presented to him. Joseph worked in the personnel department of Orizu Building. One of many companies that Igwe owned. It was a very busy department. Four hundred Africans worked for the company, a mix of men and women. The problem for Joseph was the workforce turnover. It was not because people left the company for another company. The problem was simple and stark. Death was the biggest cause of turnover. He had carefully studied the figures himself. In the last two years over 100 staff had died from illness, variously described as flu, cold, fever. None stated the true reason.
Aids.
According to the country's President there was no such illness, and so it never appeared on Death Certificates. Finding replacement staff was not so difficult, but since half the population of the country were under 15 years of age, skill and experienced workers were hard to come by.
Fortunately for Orizu Building the government had set pay levels for all categories of employees. Good for business if not for employees! So an experienced and skilled older work could not leave his company for a better paid job elsewhere. Since all the pay rates in all Zimbabwe Company's were exactly the same switching from one employer to another led to suspicion of incompetence, or worse misdeeds. So Africans rarely changed jobs. That still left Joseph very busy man finding replacements for the staff and organising whip-arounds for grieving widows and children.
Not the folders Igwe was perusing related to African staff and workers.
The folders Igwe was reading comprised the latest CV's and backgrounds on UK professionals being suggested by International Recruit. Joseph suspected that the company would grind to a halt without the input of the white engineers, quantity surveyors, project managers and accountants like David Burton.
White expats did not die of aids. They came for two years and usually left after that. In those two years they brought modern management skills. A desire to work hard, a notion Joseph struggled to understand, and a drive and energy that sometimes alarmed the African staff.
Igwe was an intimidating and powerful African. Joseph knew well his history in the war of liberation that they had fought and lost against the whites. Igwe's friendship with the new African rulers meant that he now sat in the Chair of one the biggest developing new construction firms. Joseph could not really comprehend the wealth Igwe was reported to own. That wealth and his contacts drove the business development. He could afford to employ the white expats that made his business profitable.
He was also ruthless, and Joseph believed the rumours that at least some of the disappeared staff had been fed to the local crocodiles inhabiting the water holes at the golf course.
Certainly the tax inspectors that Igwe had taken for a game of golf had never been seen again. Tax inspectors had not visited Igwe's business since.
Igwe's thoughts as he perused the folders in front of him could not be further from his own. He held in his hand the picture of Diana Windsor. She was a blond bombshell with a cascade of yellow hair that perfectly set off her blue eyes. He could sense the spark in those eyes. He suspected fire and passion smouldered behind those eyes. He turned the photo over and scanned her statistics. She was 26 years old. Her figure had been discreetly written noted on the sideline 36-28-34. He shivered at the fought of getting his around the waist of this lovely creature and then exploring the fuller curves. Yes, she was just what he required from the wives of a potential employee.
Having satisfied himself with the important issue he picked up the file of her husband, Paul Windsor. He was a Contracts Manager. Twenty years experience. A quick scan revealed that he had owned his own business up until 9 months ago. Then the recession that was doing so much damage in the UK had closed his business.
Igwe liked recessions in Europe and America. It guaranteed desperate professionals running from the taxman and in need of work and an escape from debts.
Looking through the papers it seemed Mr Windsor had all the competence to be a skilled Contracts Manager. He turned over the photo and was surprised to see in the notes that he was 19 years old and had a figure of 34-26-30!
Igwe looked across at Joseph. He had little time for incompetents. He could see Joseph quail under his gaze. He liked that in an employee! He continued to stare at Joseph, who squirmed in his seat.
Joseph was struggling to overcome his sudden fear. His boss had missed something but if Joseph mentioned it he might be accused of suggesting Igwe had made a mistake. Making such a suggestion to his boss filled Joseph with terror. So her squirmed under Igwe's gaze and dithered.
Igwe stared.
Joseph realised inaction was going to get him into more trouble than he was in already. He coughed and gestured towards the photo.
Igwe stared at him. Hiding his amusement.
Joseph edged forward and took the photo from Igwe's hand he carefully peeled the two photo's apart. Photographs did not travel well in the steamy African heat. He handed the photo's back looking apologetic and embarrassed.
Igwe took the two photographs. His interest was not so much in Paul Windsor as the 19yo with the figure. He looked down at the pretty face of young woman.
"That's Lauren. She is Mr Windsor's oldest daughter."
"Oldest daughter?"
"Yes he has two daughter's...there should be another photograph."
Igwe shuffled through the papers and found another photograph. He pulled it out and looked it over. Sweet sixteen and never been kissed.
"16?"
"No, she is 18 years old. She just looks younger. Her name is Rebecca."
Igwe smiled.
Joseph relaxed.
He turned over Paul's photo and saw that he was 42 years old.
"His first wife died and he re-married," Joseph explained.
Igwe pondered these facts for a few moments. A 42 year old man with, no doubt, a demanding younger 26 year old wife, and two nicely developed teenage daughters who had become young women in their own rights. He would imagine there would be a few tensions in this family. No doubt Paul was struggling to keep his new pretty wife happy, and two daughters clashing with the new wife would add to the tension of his company going bust. Yes Paul Windsor was looking for an escape route.
"Hire him."
He opened the next folder. He glanced over the features of a young white man, then glanced down his details. They described a recently qualified engineer of 26 years, single. He frowned. He did not employ single white men!
"Joseph?"
Joseph, who had been relaxing and his thoughts drifting, was startled back to attention. He immediately saw the folder spread across Igwe's desk, and realised Igwe's concern.
"If I may...Sir?..."
Igwe leaned back allowing Joseph to shuffle through the file.
"Here," he handed over a hand written blue coloured letter. There was a paper clip attaching a photo of a very pretty young woman, with long dark brown hair.
"His fiancé," Joseph explained. "If he is offered the job they will marry and have their honeymoon on the way here. She is a Sunday School teacher."
Igwe's interest picked up at that last point. A Sunday School teacher! That would be an interesting challenge, and fresh from her honeymoon! There would be a few high level bets on how quick she could be introduced to a black cock in those sircumstances!
"Hire."
Igwe shuffled the papers together, and pushed them aside.
