Fame of Shame

By Peter Lumba

Ziporah's dream is to eradicate poverty in her village. But after rejecting a prestigious job to focus on her dream, she soon realizes that the ignorance and the poverty she wants to eradicate is prized assets to the local elite and the politicians. To succeed, she must first navigate through the hurdles placed before her by those who want to keep the villagers ignorant and on the breadline.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peter Lumba
• Release date: Mar 5, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476025872

Peter Lumba

The author runs a Public Benefit Organization (PBO) for disadvantaged children. Has special interest in youth development, especially teenagers.

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Author’s Note

As the mushrooming Third World Community Based Organizations with little experience in social affairs scramble for donor funds from First World Nations and Non-Governmental Organizations, they could be forgiven for assuming that all they need to implement their planned community projects is only the funds. Little do they know that after getting these funds they are bound to encounter other local factors that militate against the initiation of any project that is presumed to change the lives of the poor masses within their communities. There are those elites within the same communities who see poverty as an asset and fight to maintain the community’s social and economic status quo. Among this group are the local and the political elites who are overenthusiastic to nurture elitism through corruption and the exploitation of the gullible poor masses, who apart from being brainwashed by these elites, are also enslaved by their own retrogressive cultural beliefs and attitudes. Their poverty, lined with the dependence on these archaic beliefs and attitudes, makes them subjects of manipulation by the elite. The reality of how this incapacitating elitism is promoted is depicted in the following story based on a Third World model village.

Fame of Shame

Published by Peter Lumba at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Peter Lumba

License Notes

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CHAPTER 1

The morning promised to be bright. Ziporah knew what she wanted and she was now ready to take the next step in order to attain it. At some point she had to break free and take off towards her destiny. She waited in uneasy patience until her parents had finished eating breakfast. She looked through the window panes from the dining room and noticed a sudden change in the skies. The beautiful bright morning was soon turning into something else. The sky outside the dining room window had now grayed and darkened, and quickly at that. She looked down at her hands by her now empty cup of tea for a while, looked up across the table at her parents, hesitated for just a breath and then said, Mom and Dad, there is something I want to tell you.

Yes, Ziporah, her mother said promptly looking across the table, holding her breath as she tried not to give away her hunch, you are free to speak your mind. We are listening.

Since the day Ziporah had gone to the village to visit her grandmother, Maria had waited for her return with growing unease. This was because she suspected there was something untoward in Ziporah’s mind that she was not telling them. Even so, she never guessed it was the unpleasant surprise she was about to hear from her.

There is no easy way to say this except I’m truly sorry if I’m going to hurt your feelings, she finally said, apparently ruining her mother’s mood. Ziporah loved her mother and though at times she pushed her into situations she disagreed with, she never wanted to put herself in a position where she would disrespect her.

Oh come on! her mother exclaimed.

I have decided not to take up the job with the Basuto Airways, Ziporah said in breathless anticipation.

Maria was not certain whether her ears were not playing her tricks, the reason why she preferred to remain silent.

Ziporah’s father, not a man to bury his head in the sand, was somewhat baffled by this new development. Have you found a better job, Ziporah? he inquired.

I want to take a teaching job at Amua Girls’ High School, Ziporah said bluntly.

The silence that followed was peculiarly alarming. The ticking of the beautiful and meticulously polished brass wall clock that no body ever noticed was now the only audible sound in the room. Everything seemed to have gone silent, as if the room had simply emptied, or as if everybody in it had suddenly frozen in place, holding their breath.

After all I am not dreaming, thought Maria. She tried in vain to make sense of what her daughter had said. Was their daughter actually normal?

Sorry, her father eventually said in disbelief. What did you say, Ziporah? I must have heard you wrongly.

No, she said. You heard me just fine. I said I want to take a teaching job at Amua Girls’ High School, she said unmistakably.

"Impossible! Go get a life, her mother finally shrieked. You already know we cannot agree to such absurdity. Have they bewitched you in the village or are you going crazy?"

I am alright, mum, remarked Ziporah. Having already sensed her mother’s determined resistance to her decision, she braced herself for a protracted battle of words with her. Up to this date her mother wanted to dictate to her everything she did and she hated it. Her future had already been drafted for her. She hated how her mother always dropped hints about the plans she had for her future. Everything with her from eating meals to holidays was planned in detail and this really annoyed her; for it lacked any kind of excitement.

Ziporah, I think you are getting advice from dubious sources, her father said calmly.

That is not true, dad. I just want to be in that school because I want to help the people in our village. Those people are suffering a lot because of poverty and the situation there is getting worse and worse by each day that passed. Something drastic needs to be done. That is why I want to be near them to see what I can do to reverse the situation.

I don’t get you, Ziporah, remarked her mother irately. What does it matter to you whether those people are poor or not? Those villagers are poor because they are an indolent lot. Now stop giving us unnecessary bothers.

I don’t agree with you, mum, Ziporah replied, with poise. What I see there is a vicious circle of poverty. It is not easy for those people to break out of that circle without some help. As both of you know very well, poverty propagates itself.

Her mother stared at her ominously, her face a mask of anger she tried to compose. Where did you get that nonsense from?

That is not nonsense, mum, she disputed. It is reality.

Her father was observing her keenly. Ziporah, how can you help them? he asked, noticeably bothered about their daughter.

That is what I want us to talk about, Ziporah replied without flinching.

Did you get that annoying idea from your cousin when you went to the village? her mother asked indignantly.

No, it is my own decision.

What do you have in mind? her father inquired.

All those villagers have their own dreams which seem to be dying very fast. At present, there is a suffocating shroud of despondency over Mirada village. The children’s state of affairs is a grief to contemplate. When you look at them you can hardly hold your tears. The men and women fare no better. It is evident to everyone that the prevailing poverty has crushed most of their hopes. I want to embark on the task of helping them to re-create their aspirations. That is only possible when I am staying close to them. It is the only way I can understand their needs, their fears, their pains, their weaknesses and their strengths, upon which I will base my strategic plan. There is no way you can be effective in helping people when you are living away from them. You can neither understand their problems nor their feelings.

You are polluting my ears, Ziporah, with that garbage you are mouthing, her mother said irritably. You will never go anywhere with such behavior. Listen to me if you want to become somebody in life.

I know this is not going to be easy for both of you, but I’m afraid it is a decision I have already made, Ziporah said with certainty. I know it is not easy for you to empathise with those who are suffering because your riches have numbed your sense of empathy. Your hearts have become hard and cold like a stone. You only think of yourselves.

You are not going to bring such a disgrace to this family, Ziporah, her father said, in the verge of getting angry.

Dad, you don’t have to say that because we are already leaving in disgrace. For as you keep on using your riches on unnecessary luxuries, somewhere a pitiable child is starving. And it is not his or her fault. I know you can’t feed the whole world, but you can at least make a difference in someone’s life.

We are where we are because of hard work, Ziporah, her father said. We have made many sacrifices to reach where we are and even to educate you and your brothers.

I don’t deny that, Ziporah said. You know as well as I do that some of those people starving in the village toil day and night to earn their living. It is not merely a question of working hard. In fact, just say that you are just fortunate that things happened to go well with you. And those people are just unfortunate because nothing turn up for them.

"So what do you have in mind for those unfortunate people as you call them?" asked her father.

There are ten needy girls from the village who cannot afford to take up their places in Form One, said Ziporah. My cousin Christine and I counted fifteen girls from Mirada village who have already received their calling letters to join high school. Out of the fifteen, only five will be able to take up their places in Form One. The others will forfeit their places because of lack of school fees. To be a day scholar at Amua Girls’ High School a student needs only 60 dollars for the first term. I have already decided that two thirds of the 200 dollars the school board has agreed to pay me will be going to the payment of their school fees. I will be giving out 130 dollars every month for their school fees. But I want you to help me pay their first term fees in Form One. They need a total of 600 dollars. Just pay that and leave the rest to me. Ziporah knew she wasn’t asking for the unattainable especially with the life they lived.

Truly, you have been bewitched, Ziporah. her mother whispered edgily. Maria was almost shaking with rage. Did we educate you to disappoint us in the end?

I have made my decision, mum, Ziporah insisted. Life is all about making choices, appreciating them and of course obtaining serenity from it all. I am peaceful with the decision I have made. Don’t forget the world has millions of volunteers who are even better educated than I am and others who are far less well up than I am. All selfless people who are only interested in the welfare of others. What is special with me? I went to school to be educated to serve the society, but not to promote my provincial interests. So it is either the teaching job or no job at all. I have already made up my mind. In fact, by ignoring the poor today, you are building a future generation that will be the undoing of people like you. The future generations will not be as patient as we are today. They will see these injustices and they will determinedly fight them. You should know poverty is a time bomb that explodes when least expected. It is actually the primary cause of revolutions.

What are you telling us now? You have your priorities upside down, you ridiculous girl, her mother said impatiently. You are either taking that appointment at the Basuto Airways or you are going to leave our home for good, period. We will see who the boss is in this house.

Mum! Ziporah exclaimed.

It’s simple, all you have to do is choose between taking that job and leaving our home, her mother said.

‘Hey that’s not fair, mum,’ Ziporah said.

Suit yourself. That’s about the only compromise we are ready to make. Sort out your messed up priorities if you still want to be our daughter. We all have problems of our own you know without you having to add to them

Ziporah just looked at her mother in disbelief.

You are going to stay in this house so long as you take up that appointment, her mother said conclusively. You are not going to blackmail anyone here.

Reading her mother’s mood and determined to defend her decision, Ziporah shrieked angrily, I am making a conscious decision, muum!

Don’t scream at me! her mother barked and swallowed heavily.

Calm down everyone, Kefa interposed. He was looking at his daughter thoughtfully. Between his wife and his daughter, he had no doubt who the winner would finally be. This was not their first passionate disagreement. His daughter was notorious for having it her way or no way. How many girls are you talking about, Ziporah?

Ten girls, she said with tears flowing down her cheeks. The ten of them will need 600 dollars to join Form One as day scholars, Ziporah said between sobs. What is wro… wrong with sa… sacrificing a little of my comfort for the … for the sake of those desperate girls?

Her mother closed her eyes and unleashed a frustrated sigh.

Look Ziporah, her father said soothingly. I will pay the full amount for your friends to join Amua Girls’ High School as day scholars, but you are still going to take up the appointment at the Basuto Airways. Are you satisfied now?

No, dad! she protested, shaking her head indomitably. I need to be close to those girls to monitor their studies. Besides, I want to find a solution to the water problem in the village. Only education and water can bring a meaningful change in our village. Imagine what those people can do if they had the water to irrigate their farms. There are no clear opportunities in that village and that is why you think the people are lazy. Give them water to irrigate their farms and you will not believe they are same people. Even so, we have a good number of well up people who have enough resources to change the fortunes of the people if they want to, but they are as mean as they come.

How will you provide them with water? her father asked in amazement.

There is already a stalled water project in the village. I will try to find a way of raising funds for the revival of the project. she replied confidently.

In spite of everything, her father laughed uproariously. My daughter, you are very green in these things. I am not sure you know what you are talking about. Leave community projects to politicians and their lot.

She stared at her father inquisitively. "If that is the responsibility of the politicians, then why haven’t they given us water for the last fifty years? Can you show me a single operational project in our entire division, which is as a result of direct effort of any politician or any of their lot as you put it? The problem with your generation is that you have closed minds and yet you pretend to know everything. It is now obvious that if it is your generation that is going to develop this country, we are going to be in trouble for a very very long time. And while we are still on the subject, I do not hesitate to say that the work of most Third World politicians is to keep the masses entertained with their diversionary tactics while they surreptitiously siphon off the taxpayers’ money into their bank accounts."

Let us not be judgmental, Ziporah, her father said tentatively. Please note that it will not be easy for you to organize any noteworthy fundraising.

Something needs to be done all the same, Ziporah said. Fifty years is a very long time without any visible positive change in our village. We have all been thinking with our stomachs. Someone needs to come forward to give our minds a little jog and break the culture of back to front conservatism. Get out of the way and allow the youth with unadulterated minds to apply their ideas and you will be surprised what they can do. The minds of your generation are already clogged up with corruption and nepotism.

If that is what you went to learn in school then I fear for you, young woman, her mother told her.

Kefa breathed in deeply and released a heavy sigh. Okay, now tell us about your plan.

"I will begin by talking to the villagers and mobilizing them to form a project committee which will determine the budget for what we exactly want to do. I am not thinking of only the water project. You know as well as I do that those farms have seen better days, so their rehabilitation would be necessary. Excavation of farm drainages and planting of trees along the gullies and other strategic places would be necessary to protect the soil from running rain water. After that, we will provide the people with manure, fertilizer and planting seeds. In addition, we will level and gravel all the access roads leading to the village to avoid the muddy conditions during the rain seasons and rid them of the annoying potholes. Doing all this will definitely cost a lot of money. So we are going to organize a fundraising and collect what we can. And that is the only thing I want you to assist us in. At least try to assist us in organizing the fundraising.

Maria did not like what she was hearing. I am not going to be part of this madness. I am now convinced you need to see a doctor. What you are saying doesn’t make an iota of sense.

Mother, do you have an idea how desperate those people are? Ziporah asked pleadingly.

I am not a fan of folly and I don’t suffer fools gladly, Maria fumed. Please, stop trying my patience, Ziporah. As I said, you are going to take that appointment or you will go to do your things elsewhere.

Her father was at a loss. Ziporah, do you realize the dishonour you would be bringing to this family by your peculiar decision? How can you forgo a monthly salary of 1,200 dollars with many other privileges to go and work for mere 200 dollars? Can you show me the logic in your reasoning?

I wish you could understand me, dad, Ziporah said restraining tears. If I take that job I will be too occupied to do anything in the village. My presence there is more important than the money. There are the villagers’ attitudes and perceptions that need to be changed first and that cannot be done by money or by someone who is living far away from the village. I told you I only want you to pay the first term school fees for the ten girls and do nothing else, except helping us to organize a fundraising. In other words, at the moment I am making a request for only 600 dollars from you.

Who told you we are in the business of frittering money away?" her mother asked impatiently.

Ziporah lost patience with her mother and screamed hysterically. Can you keep quiet, mum!

Maria stared at Ziporah in incredulously. Her temper got out of control and gave Ziporah a hard slap on her cheek.

Ziporah was traumatized. Her mother had never laid a hand on her for the last ten years or so! Mother! she cried in disbelief.

She made to storm out of the room but her father swiftly grabbed her hand. Maria was now wiping her eyes as she sobbed uncontrollably. Still holding her daughter’s hand, Kefa pulled his wife closer, put his hand round her neck and let her head lie on one side of his chest where she continued to cry inconsolably.

He too pulled his daughter closer to him letting her head lie on the other side of his chest. He stroked their heads as they sobbed. "I will discuss your request with your mother, Ziporah, but as for the water project, I believe that is an over ambitious