She sat by the table, her legs stretched out and her feet out of her shoes. Once in a while, she unconsciously lifted them up in an attempt to place them on the table- a bad habit she had acquired in college. Fortunately, there were seven other people in the room to remind her she was not alone. This reminder ensured her legs stayed where they were.
Six members of the committee, including herself sat around the huge table that stood right in the middle of the conference room. The seventh member, the chairman, was busy giving a long, incomprehensive speech. He stood at the extreme end of the room with a marker in hand, facing the white board that was a few inches behind him. His well-tailored black suit provided a sharp contrast to the white blinds that covered the glass window behind him. He spoke haltingly and had a certain hesitation about him that cast a slow spell on everyone. Occasionally, he stopped to wipe the beads of sweat that dripped from his baldhead onto his stern face.
The time was 1:35 pm and the rays from the burning African sun were competing with the old air conditioner in the room. The rays were winning without much effort as one of the younger committee members at the far end of the table had already started loosening his tie.
Right across him, Amanda, one of her colleagues was fanning her face not only to keep cool, but also to lessen the musk of black polished leather emanating from the chairs. Even though the acrid smell was familiar with that room, it was worse today because the heat accentuated it with every passing minute.
She had been sitting there for about forty-five minutes and nothing had changed. The chairman was still talking and even though it was clear he was headed nowhere, he went on and on. Here he was now inviting contributions on an issue that was not even on the agenda.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, the floor is now open…’ he said, looking intently into everybody’s face.
‘Floor is open for what?’ she whispered to Aba, the front office executive who was sitting beside her. Aba merely shrugged and leaned back in her chair. She looked round, no one stirred so she did the same; she leaned back in her chair and looked up. Little beads of sweat began to form on her forehead; she dabbed them gently with her handkerchief and remained in the same position. Her wandering eyes came to settle on the notepad she had put on the conference table in front of her. Somehow she had forgotten it was there. She leaned forward and grabbed it; as she did so, one of her male colleagues turned to look at her. Their eyes met briefly and she forced a smile.
She opened her notepad; maybe she could try writing something to keep her focused for a while. But a desperate attempt to write proved daunting, she knew she just wasn’t ready so she leaned back again and raised her eyes. The big ceiling above her met her gaze and she began to observe it carefully. It was white all round and the wooden frames that had been fixed under the cement covering looked very exotic. The designs were definitely not African, she thought. They looked Italian, she concluded. That impressed her. Unfortunately, the near-rusty ceiling fans did a great disservice to the majestic ceiling. It was like patching a brand new dress with a tattered cloth. The blades of the ceiling fan were rotating rather speedily above her and they made an occasional squeak. Looking at them for long made her feel dizzy. She already started imagining how the thin metallic hooks holding them up could break loose from the ceiling and fall on her, slicing her to a thousand pieces. She shuddered at the thought and started thinking about changing her sitting position.
But then, she hadn’t felt that way until now. The fans had always been there. From the start of the meeting until then, their blades were rotating and making that occasional squeaky sound that now terrified her. Why didn’t she feel that way from the beginning, why didn’t it cross her mind that they could actually come crashing down on her? Maybe her sudden concentration on those lofty spinning devices was the cause of her anxiety. She looked round and decided she would not change her sitting position. She was right; as soon as she dropped the thought, her anxiety ceased.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She felt a little uneasy; she removed her overcoat slowly and disengaged the first button on her shirt. The meeting was still going on; she could not believe it. How she wished it were all over. She felt desperate and frustrated. She wanted to jump out of her skin but she couldn’t. She wanted to lie down but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. Everything was dragging slowly around her and she felt giddy. She looked at her watch; it was as if the minute hand had gone to sleep and the second hand was painfully slow. What was happening to her? She wondered. Was she having a nightmare or was it really happening? She yawned loudly and as she did this, she looked round shyly; she wanted to check if anyone was looking. Nobody looked her way so she stretched and moaned; her heavy eyes closing in the event. She leaned back again and began to doze…
Soon she was gone but not for long. Aba nudged her back into reality sending a sharp pain through her. She opened her eyes to find everyone staring at her; ‘Do you care to share your dream with us Sompa?’ the Chairman asked...
