A Five-Part Series on Decisions, Beliefs and the Architecture of Revenge
No one at the office really knew Joseph’s background. They knew the quiet young man who stayed late, but they did not know the boy who had learned very early that survival sometimes required silence.
Joseph’s father had once been a hardworking and successful man. By the time Joseph knew him well, however, almost everything was gone. After an accident left his father incapacitated, Joseph gave up a scholarship to a national school so he could school near home.
He woke early. He cooked mandazis and buns. He delivered them to a shop whose owner had taken a liking to him and supported him whenever she could. Then he rushed to day school.
In the afternoon, he checked on his father. At night, he studied by candlelight. During those evenings, his father told him stories about a life Joseph could barely imagine. “Son, in a past life I was very successful. I accumulated great wealth, then lost it in an instant of stupidity.”
Joseph had heard fragments of the story. Laced with many gems of wisdom. That evening, his father told him everything. “I married another woman before your mother. One night, I caught her in bed with another man.” He stopped. “I killed them.” Joseph stared at him.
His father continued, quietly.
“She was the daughter of a powerful man. I tried bribing the police. I tried everything. Nothing worked. I went to prison. Her family destroyed my business. When I finally came out, the world had changed.” He looked at his son.
“The thing I regret most is not taking a moment.”
“A moment?”
“A moment to notice.”
Joseph listened.
“I saw them, and pressure built inside me. My body changed. Anger turned my blood red. My animal nature took over. I drew my gun and shot both of them.” He shook his head.
“The decision probably took seconds. The consequences lasted decades.”
This was one of the first lessons Joseph learned about decisions. The event does not always destroy you. Sometimes it is the meaning you give the event. Then the emotion. Then the rules.
She must not disrespect me.
He must pay.
I cannot allow this.
Once the ego has created enough musts and shoulds, behavior can begin to feel inevitable. His father leaned closer.
“You are smart. I can see it in you. But learn how to hold the anger that lies close to your heart.”
“I am not angry, Father.”
His father smiled.
“I know you are.”
Joseph looked away.
“I have heard you crying when you look at your mother’s picture.”
Joseph sighed.
His mother had abandoned them for another man.
“I also know you hide your emotions,” his father continued. “But do not let them dictate how you function in the world.” He paused. “A wise man once told me that we feel and think from the beliefs we carry. Then our ego creates rules about what must, should or may happen.”
He took Joseph’s hand.
“If you can, I beseech you, my son — drop the hate, anger and malice. Look to your future and make it better.”
About a year later, Joseph’s father disappeared. Joseph was sixteen. That morning, his father had been home. By afternoon, he was gone. Neighbors said three strange men had arrived at their shanty, claiming they were taking him to the hospital.
Two days later his body was found in a forest. The death forced Joseph into contact with relatives he barely knew. Most wanted little to do with him. One family took him in.
From them, Joseph began piecing together the history his father had only partly revealed. “Your father was gifted,” one relative explained. “Brash. Intelligent. A natural leader. In his twenties he was already a millionaire.”
Then came the family. A wealthy, powerful family had supported his rise. Their daughter married him. For years everything prospered. Until the night she died.
“When your father killed her and her lover, that family never forgave him.”
“But he went to prison.”
“Yes.”
“And lost everything.”
“Yes.”
“So why kill him years later?”
The relative looked at Joseph for a long time.
“Some families remember.”
Joseph said nothing. He asked for names. Dates. Relationships. Businesses. Who had ordered what. Who had benefited. Who had survived. And slowly, a family tree began to take shape in his mind.
At the center of it was an old man who had allegedly given the final instructions regarding his father. The old man had sons. One of them was building a growing paint business in Nairobi. His name was Michael. Joseph stared at the name, then closed the notebook.
Years later, when Joseph walked into Michael’s company to ask for his first job, Michael thought a quiet, spineless graduate had arrived at his doorstep by coincidence.
He could not possibly have known the truth.
Joseph had applied to that company for one reason.
CONTINUED: PART THREE — THE COWARD WHO CHOSE HIS BOSS
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