The Best Ally

The Best Ally, a short story by LJ Kundananji

My best ally is failure. Sounds austere, I know, but my experiences at its callous, brutal hands left me with the understanding that it is the one essential ingredient that maketh a full man. Lack of it is what has created the snobs and holier-than-thou nuisances in our society. Lack of it is what has led many puny souls to believe that they are invincible and better than everyone else.

At the time that this story starts, I was at my academic acme, studying medicine at the University of Zambia. I came from a long line of geniuses and most of them had trodden this land and conquered where many academic martyrs had fallen; and for proof, there was my Uncle Trevor, who had graduated with distinctions and was an Engineer for the Zambia Electricity Supply Corporation; and My Auntie Lucy, who with the same qualifications was a computer programmer for some elite company in South Africa. My immediate family was no less impressive: my father was the most reputed lawyer in the country, and my mother, a lecturer at the university. In short, none of my kin had a record of failure on their resumes. The very concept of failure was taboo to us.

On the day that my friend, Buddy and I sauntered along to check our results, the weather was lovely. There was not an ominous cloud in the sky, and bright, warm sunshine shone down on everything. The dismal, grey buildings of the campus looked less grey and gloomy, and I could have sworn they were smiling at me. But even the fine whether was not enough to calm the nerves of Buddy, who was rattling from head to toe with agitation.

“I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, mate,” he said with a wild eye.

“You always have a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach whenever the results come out,” I reminded him with a chuckle.

“This time is for real man. I couldn’t even sleep! Each time I closed my eyes, I was seeing empty spaces where my results are supposed to be.”

“Pshaw!” I said in annoyance. “Nonsense! Everything will be alright, you’ll see. In fact, afterwards, we are going to Arcades to have some fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course!”

My persistent optimism seemed to pacify him a bit. He managed a slight smile.

“In fact,” I continued, “I’ll get Denise to join us, and you can get Brenda.”

“Brenda?”

“Your fiancée.”

“Heck! How many times should I tell you that she’s not my fiancée?” with that he bounded off ahead of me. It was always his habit to get ahead of me and get a peak of the results before I did. He said it was better to get the whole thing over with in the quickest time instead of prolonging your misery. As usual, today, there was a crowd of students surrounding the windows in which the results were stuck. Buddy pushed himself through. He was a robust young man with appreciatively large biceps, so they all moved out of his way meekly. It was at this moment when I was inching sluggishly forward that I heard a shrill scream characteristic of a female in despair. I stopped dead in my tracks when I realised that it was Buddy who had screamed. He broke away from the crowd, and like a distraught woman who had just been informed of the death of her husband, flung himself at my feet. As he looked up into my face, a shudder ran through my whole frame. A cold fear gripped my heart, nearly causing it to stop, and it was not because of the tears, nor the high pitched whimpers that were emanating from his mouth. Rather, it was because in his face, I saw a clear revelation of doom—that ominous quality characteristic in a face that had beheld empty spaces….

“I’m sorry mate,” he whimpered, his eyes grey with grief.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?” I said, an uncharacteristic quiver in my voice.

“It is!” he shrieked, lifting his hands heavenwards as though he was a sinner petitioning God to forgive him. “There are two empty spaces.”

“There there,” I tried to sound as comforting as I could, for indeed the poor soul needed all the comfort he could get. “There must be a mistake. You have probably cleared all your courses.”

He suddenly went quiet and stared intently into my face, a certain blackness creeping into his eyes that sent waves of spasms through my body.

“I have cleared all my courses,” he revealed. His words nearly sent me blacking out. I goggled at him with my lips apart. The furthest possibility, which until this time had lain dead in my mind, awakened with the greatest clamour.

“I am sorry mate,” I heard him say as I staggered backward, his voice sounding far away.

“No…it can’t be true,” I gasped, suddenly jerking forward.  A stiff determination which I had inherited from my line set in and I trudged forward towards the window. With an assertiveness which I never knew I possessed, I pushed everyone aside and stood full length in front of the window. I scanned through the names, my finger guiding me.  It screeched to a dead halt against my name. My jaw fell open as I gazed upon the two empty spaces. One empty space was bad enough, but two!  That meant automatic exclusion from the next academic year! Suddenly, to the chagrin of all the onlookers, I spurn round and let out a loud laugh.

“Gentlemen, ladies,” I said with a smile. “There’s nothing of consequence here. Am afraid there’s been a mistake.”

Eyes full of incredulity and scorn met my gaze. I walked to my friend Buddy and pulled him to his feet, for he had remained in a worshipping stance, his head bowed low to the earth. The grey in his eye was worse than before, and it had appeared to spread to the rest of his being, for he was now pallid, shaken and devastated.

“How can you be so sure?” he mumbled, his whole frame shaking with each word.

“It’s impossible for me to fail.” I said confidently. “There is definitely a mistake. I am going to the principal right now to confirm it. You are coming with me?”

“Eh ye.”

A few moments later, we were standing before the principal: a beefy little man with a formidable look about him. He adjusted his thick lenses as we walked in. He looked considerably displeased at being disturbed so early in the morning. His little narrow eyes had a way of vanishing into their sockets when he was displeased so that all that was seen was the whiteness of his large, round lenses.

“What do you want?” he asked curtly, peering at us from above the paper he was reading.

“Um…” I mumbled, staring at the crown of his bald head, which seemed to wrinkle as he stared at me.

“Get out with it!” he hissed, reaching out for a steaming cup of tea and inserting it to his dry, white lips. After taking a quick sip, as the tea was wretchedly hot, he said: “I don’t have all day.”

“Um…I wanna confirm my results.” I managed at last.

“What? Pshaw! Haven’t you checked at the window?” the paper fluttered furiously in his hand.

“I have sir, but I believe there is a mistake.”

“Pshaw!” he said again. “Those results are always double-checked. There is certainly no error.”

“I am certain, sir,” I said, gaining confidence, “that there is an error. I only request that you confirm for me that there is none, after which, we will bother you no more.”

This statement seemed to appease him a little, for I could now see a bit of his eyes through the lenses.

“Pshaw! What’s your name?”

“Timothy Chibale—I’m certain you’d know me…” I said hopefully. “My mother is a lecturer here.”

He suddenly grew stiff, and once more his eyes completely vanished into his sockets. He stared at me with parted lips for a good minute. Finally, he put aside his paper, took off his glasses, and wiped away something from the edge of his eye, which I prayed was not a tear. He looked terribly queer without his glasses on, and his little eyes looked like two white marbles inserted into the blackness of his eye sockets.

“You are Timothy Chibale?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes sir.” I replied, my stomach working itself into knots at the sudden change in disposition. I could feel Buddy quivering by my side as his hand fought to find mine.

“Timothy Chibale?”

“Yes.”

“Son of Mrs. Chibale, say?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” It was a small ‘oh’, much like an ‘oh’ which signifies impending doom. With quivering hands, he typed away something on the keyboard, and with a clear foreboding look on his face, he stared at the computer screen. He clasped his hands under his chin, and after sighing about five times, he looked up at me and said:

“I am sorry, but there has been no mistake.”

“Wha…wha…wha?”

“You have definitely failed. I am sorry.”

I gaped at him in sheer disbelief, my eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. A strong silence set in and the whole world came to a stand still. I don’t know for how long I remained standing like that, gaping at the principal, but it must have been an appreciatively long time. I knew that he was saying something, for his lips where moving, but I could not hear him. Finally, I saw him get to his feet and walk to me. Taking me by the hand, and Buddy grasping me on the other, he led me to the door.

“Be a man,” I heard him say just before he walked back into the office and closed the door after him.   

“Are you alright, mate?” Buddy was saying as we walked towards the bus station. “Say something to me.”

I just stared blankly at him. When we got onto the bus, it was as though I had died. Buddy took it upon himself to conduct me home, for I was not in the frame of mind to do so by myself.

It was an interesting affair when we walked in through the gate and towards the house. My parents were sitting in the porch relaxing. They stared up at us with amiable expressions on their faces as we approached.

“Good news, I believe?” My father said, putting aside his paper and gulping down some pineapple juice.

“It is always good news,” mother said, putting aside her book. She was reading ‘School Trouble,’ the first in the series of the Adventures of Luis Jones written by some Zambian writer whose witty style captivated both young and old. But being a lecturer of English, my mother read not to be entertained, but to criticize.

“I am afraid it isn’t this time,” Buddy said in a very forlorn voice.

“What!” my parents said at the same time, starting to their feet.

“The most awful thing has happened,” he continued, his head hanging low.

“What are you saying?” My mother hissed incredulously.

“I’m afraid that...”

“Well, what?” my father impatiently demanded, staring at me with a red eye. “Let the boy speak for himself.”

“Speak, Timmy,” mother joined in, “what awful thing has occurred?”

I opened my mouth but could not force any sound out of it. I just goggled helplessly at them.                                                 

“He has not been able say a single word after he knew the results, ma’am,” Buddy said with a whimper. I knew he was going to burst into tears soon enough. “It’s like he has lost his soul.”

“Ha! Perhaps the results were too good to be true?” my father said with irrational confidence.

Buddy shook his head. At that moment, he burst into tears.

“Why are you crying, boy?” father demanded derisively. “You should not let your failure sadden my son.”

“Poor boy,” mother said with maternal sympathy. “You did fail.”

“Not me,” Buddy spat out. “Timothy did. There are two empty spaces.”

“What!” my parents echoed again.

“Rogue!” my mother hissed, “how dare you say such a thing!”

“It’s true ma’am!” he cried, blubbering louder.

“Is it true son?” father asked.

I nodded faintly.

“What!” they looked as though they were going to burst with disbelief.

“That can’t true! My son can’t fail! Chibales never fail!”

“Am afraid it’s true. We double checked with the principal ma’am.”

“That puny, little ball of meat! How dare they fail my son! Rogues! I’m going to teach them a lesson they’ll never forget!” With that she dashed off to her car, still in her casual clothes, and sped off like a mad racer. My mother had told me of a certain criteria that was used to fail students. It was called Fate. There were too many students, and some of them had to be failed, she had told me. Most of the time, the lecturers covered their eyes, and picked at random those who would be failed. It seemed as though this time, the die had fallen on me. From the look of things, my mother would have nothing of it.

“He’s terribly shaken, sir,” Buddy, who had ceased blubbering, said as he, in conjunction with my dad, led me into the house and seated me on the sofa in the living room, “and so am I.”

“I can see that, poor boy!” my father said, stroking my hair, “Struck mute by shock, say! To be failed in so unfair a manner! Everything will be alright. Wait till your mother comes back.”

I nodded my head weakly. However, my mother took longer than expected. By three in the afternoon, she was still not back. My father paced up and down in front of me with a worried expression. Buddy, who apparently could not resist the urge to blubber every three minutes, had left for home. I lay in the sofa, my eyes popping out of their sockets, and sucking viciously at my thumb. I was a total goner.

“Pray it was Fate, boy!” my father said, suddenly ceasing his pacing. At that exact moment, the door flew open and almost off its hinges. In stormed mother, a wild look on her face, her hair disheveled to the extreme. She appeared as though she had come from a war. There were sheets of paper in her hand. She beckoned to father, and he followed her into the kitchen. They talked in low voices, but sufficiently loud for me to hear.

“I double checked his results,” I heard her say in a trembling voice. “It isn’t the Fate criteria at work. The little rogue actually failed!”

“Rogue!” I heard my father say. “What disgrace to our family name! A weakness in our gene pool!”

“This has never happened before!” I heard my mom cry.

From this point, I could hear no more because, apparently, I passed out.

***

The next few days were a nightmare. From morning till sunset, my parents censured me incessantly, and rebuked me for bringing such disgrace upon the family. It was unheard of, they said, for a Chibale to fail. It was out of this world, they charged, and only happened in fictitious worlds such as the one in which Luis Jones resided. When they got tired of reproving me, they called in help. Uncle Trevor came along and continued where they had picked off. He said something along the same lines, viz., that I was a sordid little rogue. Eventually, he too got tired, and Auntie Lucy flew all the way from South Africa to continue the dreadful tirade. You can imagine the state I was in as I lay there on the sofa sucking at my thumb, which by now I had nearly sucked to the bone. I passed out a countless number of times.  With my eyes popping out, I started at the world and everyone like a person who had lost his soul, like one who had died, like a zombie.

The news that I had failed spread like a bush fire. Every day, for the next couple of days and weeks, my schoolmates and friends trickled in and out to see me, partly to express their condolences, and partly to mock me. It was a terrible state of affairs to lie there feeble, motionless, and mute like I was struck with a terrible disease. Yes, ever since I left the principle’s office that day, I had not found my voice. All I could do was nod, or smile weakly when someone uttered ingratiating remarks, or pass out when they told me what a sordid rogue I was. The saddest and hardest thing was to have before me those, whom prior to this were the least intelligent in my class, but were now flying high and mighty, and uttering disparaging remarks.

As I stated earlier, I had lost my voice, and had not spoken a single word as yet. However, one day, I did find my voice. I was lying on the couch as usual, staring at the television screen blankly like I were dead when in walked Denise, the love of my life. Instantly, I swung upright. The onlookers, who at this time happened to be my mother and Aunt Lucy, could not understand it.

“Denise,” I said in a hoarse voice, because I had not used it for quite a while. “An awful thing has happened. A despicable tragedy.”

“I know,” she grunted coldly and slumped onto the couch nearby. I had expected her to enfold me, so that I could blubber in her arms like I had seen lovers doing on television, but her nature was cold, callous, and frightening. She looked at me with a certain fire in her eyes that I had never seen before and when she spoke, I detected a certain element in her voice that made my hair stand on end.

“Denise, Denise,” I blubbered. “Denise, my love, I did miss you terribly. Your presence here has revived my soul, for I was a total goner.”

Denise sighed, then looking me squarely in the face, she said: “In the wake of your failure, I believe it is best to leave you…”

“What!” I was sent swooning back into the chair once more.

“I’ll disgrace myself don’t you think?”

“Eh?”

“What will people think of me to have a failure for a fiancé?”

“Huh?”

“Already people are laughing behind my back, some of them even blaming me for your failure! No siree! I can’t have any of that!”

“Say?”

“So I have made up my mind to leave you, sordid rogue.”

“Denise! Did you just call me a sordid rogue?” I gasped in disbelief, hoping that I had not heard quite right.

“Sordid, squalid, little rogue you are!” she barked, getting to her feet. “I never want to see you ’gain, rogue!”

With that she scurried out of the house. The impact of her words had thrown be back into my seat, and had sent me sucking my thumb once more. This time, however, I did not pass out. I had had enough of that.

“She did you good,” Aunt Lucy said.

“Very, very good.” My mother added.

***

No man can go on lying in a couch starting at the world like a total goner forever. Eventually, he finds his footing again, and starts life all over. Or at least that is what a prudent man does. That is what I did. One day, in a burst of fury, I got off the couch and found my own two feet. They did feel wobbly though, because I had not used them for quite a while. I prowled around the house like I had never done before, and explored every little corner. Eventually, I came across one of my father’s laptops. Though it was dusty and disused, it was still good. Father had tossed it aside for a newer one. At about the same time, I came across one of Aunt Lucy’s books on computer programming. Having nothing else to do I devoured its contents fervently. All the annoyance that I felt at having failed, at having been reduced to the black sheep of the family, and at having been abandoned by all my friends but Buddy, I took out on the book and the computer. Eventually, I got so good that I started designing my own computer programs. This little affair of mine could not be kept secret, because having helped him once with his project, Buddy told the whole world about it. In time people were trickling in to get help on their projects and their computer problems.

At this time in my life, things got good. I received a call from a computer firm in town offering me a job. They told me that they could put my skills to good use.

“You won’t go far,” my parents scornfully said when I told them about it. “Sooner or later, they will find out what a failure you are.”

However, contrary to my parent’s assertions, they did not find me a failure at all. I had become so good at designing programs that they elevated me to higher and higher positions. Eventually, I became the chief programmer. My, had the tables turned! My rapid ascension on the ladder of success wowed everyone. Very few could believe when I told them that I had recently dropped out of university. I could not believe it either.

Several months later, I started my own firm. Our expertise was designing software applications which we sold to a world wide market. Things were looking up, if I may put it that way.

One evening, I was returning home from work. As I entered the gate, I wondered why I was still living with my parents because I could afford to buy an apartment, a large house even. The thought had just never crossed my mind before. But now, as I walked across the porch to the front door, this thought crossed my mind, and as I pondered heartily over it, a smile spread across my face. As I entered the house however, my smile vanished, for right there in the sitting room, sprawled all over the sofas, were my parents, Uncle Trevor, and Aunt Lucy.  The two women were weeping, and the men were trying in vain to comfort them. I draw to a halt in the door way, and the only thought that crossed my mind was that someone had died. I stood still, wondering what I was going to do. My mother suddenly looked up.

“Timmy dear,” she called, stretching out her arms.
“Ma?” I said, moving forward. She got to her feet and hugged me. Her face was sopped to the extreme, and a large number of tissue were strewn all over the sofa where dad remained seated, his head bowed in a sorrowful stance

“A tragedy, son,” she whimpered.

My heart missed a beat. “What has happened, ma?” I asked, loosing myself.

“A terrible thing!”

“Sit down, ma,” I led her back to her seat. She slumped down and blubbered with greater gusto. In between her sobs, she said:

“Remember the course I was taking?”

“Yeah,” I replied with a frown. “You were studying for a Master’s in English.”

“Well, the results came out.”

“And you are crying because they are too good to be true?”

She stared into my face with such an eye that a shudder ran down my spine. With spasms gripping her body, she said:

“I failed!”

I stared at her in shock. I was not shocked at the fact that she had failed, but at the fact that it happened in my life time.

“Is that why you are crying?” I asked, my voice stiffening.

“Yessss….” With that she fell upon dad’s shoulder and cried her lungs out.

I suddenly shot to my feet, a tense excitement burning in my eyes.

“Listen all! Stop your childish blubbering!” I shouted. These words stunned them, especially because they were coming from me. For a moment, they actually did stop blubbering, and stared at me with round eyes. Presently I said:

“Failure is not the end, but just a beginning. Failure is not an enemy but a friend. Failure opens new doors before us, doors we never knew existed. Failure makes us stronger, because we know where we went wrong and so we are more cautious next time around. Look at me. I would not be where I am today if it had not been for failure.  But because I failed, I discovered computer programming, and I am far from a failure now.

“You’ve been telling me that failure is a taboo. No siree! It is just a hump on the road to success; a hump which when one trips upon, quickly jumps over, gets up and continues on his journey. Even for great people that we adore, great people like Albert Einstein, failure was part of the game. They never got it right the first time, but they never stopped trying. And look what they accomplished.

“So when you fail, it is not the end of the world. You just get up, brush off that dust of humiliation, and continue your journey. In fact, I do not believe that none of you has ever failed before.”

“He is right,” father said suddenly, a slight smile spreading across his face. “The boy is right.”

“Yes, right he is,” Uncle Trevor agreed, nodding his head.

I thought I saw a glimmer of light in my mother’s eyes. In fact she managed to smile. Said she: “Actually, Timmy is very right. I only failed one course, which course I could write again in six months. In reality I have not failed, just delayed.”

“Then why were you blubbering like it was the end of the world?”

“I just can’t stand the disgrace. People will really laugh at me.”

“People will always laugh, scorn and deride. Oftentimes, they just laugh for the fun of it, and do not really know why they are laughing, or if they should laugh. Otherwise, we must learn to laugh with them.”

Suddenly father burst into laughter. It started off as a low chuckle which progressively grew into raucous guffawing.

“Are you laughing at me, dear?” mother asked with anger in her voice.

“No! He! He! I am laughing at myself,” he gasped. “There is something which you should all know. Back at University, I actually failed twice before I finally made it.”

“You did?” I was surprised.

“Yeah…I just did not tell any of you.”

“You failed, dear?” mother felt betrayed. “You told me you’d never failed before.”

“I lied.”

“You rogue!” mother hissed, forcing a laugh.

“I also have a confession,” Uncle Trevor said slowly, his eyes dancing with laughter. “I failed my driving test twice.”

“Rogue!” mother spat out, laughing hoarsely. We all found ourselves laughing.

“I have a confession too,” Aunt Lucy finally said. “I lost my job last week, so I can’t go back to R.S.A.”

“Rogue!” This time it was Uncle Trevor.

Laugher floated around the room in a generous amount. Eventually, we were all shuddering as violent spasms gripped us.

“We are sorry, Timmy,” mother finally said, “for treating you so cruelly.”

The rest nodded in agreement.

“It’s okay, you are all forgiven.” I told them.

It was at this moment of merriment that there was a knock on the door. Uncle Trevor took it upon himself to check who it was. We remained laughing as each one revealed his failures which hitherto had remained hidden.

“Timmy, it’s for you.” Uncle Trevor said, grinning broadly, as he walked back into the room.

“Who’s it?” I asked.

“Dunno,” he shrugged.

I walked to the door, mattering to myself about how so uncouth an hour this was to call on a person. As I stepped outside into the coolness of night, I caught sight of a feminine figure in the dim porch light. She stiffened when she saw me, a distraught look on her face.  

“What do you want Denise?” I asked coldly. “What do you want with a squalid little rogue like me?”

“Listen, Timothy,” she said in a soft voice. “I need you.”

“Pshaw!” I scoffed. “Now you need me? Now you need the sordid, little rogue?”

“You are not a sordid, little rogue.” She said in a whimper. “I did not know what I was saying then. Now, I have realised that you are the only one for me. You are the only one who can understand my situation. You are the only one who can help me.”

“Oh?” I was amused. “And what situation are you talking about?”

She suddenly broke down into tears. My heart instantly melted to see her weeping. I was by nature, an affectionate person, and so my heart instantly went out to her. I felt the love with which I had once loved her coming back, with greater intensity. I spontaneously reached out for her hand and caressed it. This gesture sent her weeping more intensely.

“What situation?” I asked, my voice catching in my throat.

She hesitated, then with her face turned away in shame, she said:

“I failed my exams.”

The revelation sent a severe shudder down my frame. I reached out and with my hand under her chin, turned her to face me. She stared at me with round, apprehensive eyes, tears streaking down her beautiful face in two thick lines. I wiped them away with my fingers. Deep within, I could feel her pain.

“I’ll be there for you,” I said, my voice trembling with emotion. She fell forward and I quickly wrapped my arms around her. As she blubbered on my shoulder, the only thing that I could think of was how much I loved her, and how good an ally failure was.  

 

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