WHAT THE NANNY GOAT TOLD HER KIDS (CHAPTER 8)

CHAPTER 8

 

IN A JIFFY, MR RANSOM TRANSFORMED the appearance of his veranda.

He brought out an old table and chair and placed them at one end and then two stools before the table where two applicants could sit at the same time and fill their forms; and behind the stools, leaning on one wall was a long bench that in a situation where there was a crowd, others would warm their butts as he attended to the applicants one after the other and at first come, first served basis.

The dogs were locked up in the courtyard at the rear. They kept barking intermittently at the overwhelming presence of the intruders.

Grace noticed that a bit of bossiness had crept into Mr Ransom’s tone as he attended to the applicants of the wretched ilk who had no bank accounts or phones while there was a bit of cajoling the enlightened who came out of curiosity and remained ever sceptical.

With the assumed rich, who still thought they should partake in the freebies from the West and as no one dared to exempt them, Mr Ransom’s attitude was convivial. Daily, as viewed by Grace in the pen not too far away, the programme was in remarkable progress.

Those who feared the banks realized how important they were when their account numbers were being required. Though they borrowed and used the account numbers of others, they did not stop openly nursing the fear that if they were lucky to be chosen, the owners of the accounts might have a rethink, especially if they were not fortunate to be picked too, in releasing to them (the lucky ones) their funds. The exercise exposed the fact that only a few owners of phones could actually memorize the numbers or properly utilize the functions of their phones. They were shamelessly begging a few others to help retrieve their phone numbers.

For over two weeks, men, women and young fellows who could conjure up ideas of good projects but needed money to invest in them showed up in Mr Ransom’s veranda, filled or were guided or helped to properly fill the forms.

It was heart-warming for Mr Ransom to see how far the Western gesture would go and the number of people it would save from the verge of committing suicide.

The forms were suddenly exhausted but more people were still coming around to have them which Mr Ransom informed Mr Hanson several times on the phone and on the day he arrived to pick up the filled forms.

Mr Hanson was glad at the turnout and said though they had exhausted the forms the NGO sent down to them, he would nevertheless get across and see if more forms could be sourced for the unfortunate ones who turned out late to have them. The applicants were left in limbo for a month, though they did not stop strolling to Mr Ransom’s home to ask about the latest developments on the expected goodies.

‘Your forms, as Handsome told me, are being processed right now and those qualified would be notified,’ Mr Ransom was gladly borrowing terms from Mr Hanson to impress his audience, mixing the prominent English words with the mother tongue, ‘of where, when and manner to pick their funds. If they discover you told them lies, you would be screened out,’ (these applicants were sure candidates for suicide, Grace gleefully would ruminate, and they did not need to go far but draw close to her and borrow the rope from her neck) ‘but those chosen would go up to wherever they’re directed with their genuine documents to pick their cash.’

The idea of ‘genuine documents’ would make the applicants linger and ask more questions to clear their concerns. But Mr Ransom would gladly answer that those who added him as a guarantor (and almost all the applicants added him) did not need to worry. If the team that would dish out the cash was not satisfied with any detail, they would call him to clarify the issue.

‘If I look at you and just tell them I know you and your facts are right, that would end the matter in your favour and you’d walk away with your cash.’

That got the listeners beaming including those Grace identified as diehard sceptics.

Grace noticed too, and even Mr Ransom in a careless chit-chat confirmed that to his wife some people were going out of their way to be nice to him. Even those who slipped past without a greeting before would now stand at the frontage, shout and wave before passing to the farms, places of worship or the markets and some took the pain of walking inside the compound to seek him out (if he was not sitting behind his now prominent table) to greet and shake his hands. The most popular man in his area was now Mr Ransom himself.