You can see friend, a rooster is none of those things you can consider put in print, particularly if you are one whose reputation you earnestly value. And worse if the rooster is nothing more than a word the wind carries. I shouldn't have dared, but thinking of the day itself, I daresay it was a so-so but highly exceptional and worth a record. And with you friend, why worry? I feel so delighted to give this piece out.

It so happened that the rooster was borrowed from my neighborhood. An old man, who was a widower, had stated that he would have it for two weeks. Mama Chiota had twothe duo that had turned her yard to a boxing ring. Always they wrestled like never before in chicken history. And for that matter only, she was put in position of giving it out. You see, the man had two hens, and his plan was to provide them with an Adam for two weeks. Two weeks friend, was a year, I mean to the man, because within a week we heard the rooster was no more. To this day, I still don't get it why he had to go for a fellow's chicken just to satisfy his lust for meat.

The issue could have been peacefully solved had it not been of the old man's loose mouth.

"It really amazes me how a black person gets mad over tiny matters. A grown up waking up so early to ask of a mere rooster. Was it a bull or a rooster that I borrowed from you? Now I see why they say we arent very different from animals."

Mama Chiota's face went red, I noticed, but she knew better than violence. She asked for the two hens, said they would cover the debt. The old man refused, said that was all he possessed. At that point, Mama Chiota could have peacefully traced her way back home, had it not been of her two sonsanother duo of hers that had made her home an inferno. They could have easily kicked the hell out of the man, only if his son was not around. Now the son, a qualified boxer and ten years older than the older of the two, was present.

The fight, oh yes, I saw it firsthand. I should confess friend, that being fond of watching violence is the worst trait of mine that nature itself had gifted me withespecially when I'm sober. Give me beerI mind my own business; I enjoy my own companyfor the gap is automatically bridged. Now I sound like I soak my brains in alcohol every second. Ah! Friend. I only drink on special occasions, like workdays, and even on such rare occasions, I polish off at most four bottles of whisky.

The scene was supercharged, the exchange of blows was being carried out really well. Just until some strong devils came up and seized up all the three and ceased the fight, much to my positive annoyance. The scene went super boringso boring that I eventually remembered my existence and that of my schedule. Friend, I should tell you, I almost broke my lower limbs the time I consulted my watch.

Time was no longer a friend of mine. I hurried back and forth inside my house till I was ready to depart. Outside, May was playing the devil's game. The sky had turned dark rapidly, and the temperature was dropping accordingly.

Just as I was locking the door, I saw a tall figure standing stupidly at the gate. So thin and tall, you could think a gush of wind would drive him out of way. From his shoulders, hung loosely a light-blue apron: Census man! You know what friend? I was like, "Oh God no! Not today." He waved with a smile, I think that was part of their training, because his face...no friend you wouldn't expect a smile from the kind.

"Hello brother! I'm Wilson, Wilson White! I live alone here, no one else to count! You can give me the sticker; I'll stick it to my door!" I cried over my shoulder still wrestling to lock the door. "I have a birth certificate and a national ID too!"

The idea was to walk as fast as I could and meet him at the gate, so he wouldn't enter. But my own door betrayed me.

"Okay sir but I want to ask a few questions." The guy was stubborn, he had somehow sensed my intention and walked up to meet me exactly at my doorstep.

"But I'm already late for work," I complained, speaking to a stone. The guy had already found himself a sit on the flower bed.

"So, what's your address...oh there it is, 1536." He punched his tablet-like device for an additional moment then looked up to me. "Sit down man, we can make this quick."

I was beginning to reply when the rooster fighting scene was back, only that it was happening right there in front of my gate. Three police officers were dragging the two Mama Chiota's sons. The old man's son was there calm and already been cuffed.

"I wish I could give these young people a piece of advice." Observed the census man.

"But I'm afraid it would be worse than useless. They need knowledge."

"Exactly," agreed the man, "you are talking sense. I see, they lack schooling. But huh, I don't get it, how lack of education makes people stupid."

"Maybe because education is broad." Replied I.

"Yeah, but take for instance the most important one, academic education. It's just natural that one who has attended classroom is way better at reasoning than one who hasn't."

"That's in most cases true," agreed I. "I just doubt if academic education still the most important these days and in this country. I think it's time they must teach students not to trust it, because as much as life is concerned, the right education matters. I would agree that most life challenges are caused by the wrongly educated minds. You can easily grasp the idea with an example: suppose you intend to become a doctor, but you opt for farming lessons. Whenever I think the matter out, I daresay we are stupid at some level. Because it remains a fact that about five percent of our country's entire population is formally employed, yet it's no doubt that we get as much academically educated as we can, so we can stand in queue for the few available jobs. Crazy it sounds, and even crazier when you find out that always our country finds itself sitting in the top five of Africa's most educated countries."

"I get it what you are saying boy," rejoined the census man. "You know as much as I do, that there is nothing worse in this world than illiteracy. I cannot imagine a world without academic education."

"Yes brother, that world would be of pinheads," I replied. "My point is education is like a tool you will always need to interact better with your environment. Without it you are worse than a dummy. For example, a hammer is a tool. It is neither a right tool nor a wrong tool until you start using it to dig a pit. I would frankly say, the academic education of Zimbabwe is in many cases a trap. A trap that you would stay in for a lifetime unless you realize it in time. No wonder the most complain is, 'we need more jobs,' rather than, 'we need more companies, ' merely because our schools make us smart servants. If we really want a change, we will obviously need to shift our focus. We will realize then that what we need is more than academic education.

"Personally, I believe there is more to learn from life itself," I resumed. "I happened to be one of the most worthless people you can ever imagine. I would be guilty of lying if I tell you that I own any certificate, save for the birth certificate. The year was 2016 when it happened. It had happened that, by some twist of fate, I had inherited an old Huawei Y220 phone. As a matter of clarity, the phone was actually dumped into my hands, after the owner who happened to be a friend, was fully satisfied that it was no longer worthy calling useful. The device was a soul sucker, I could remember. Many at times it misbehaved, operating itself and touching everywhere on its screen. That was indeed positive annoyance to my side.

"Well, I should admit that I wasn't illiterate at all. I had ended my academic education at grade 7, second term, and had from then on spent quality time reading English novels. My parents had passed away before I could sit for a ZIMSEC paper, so my grandma was sent to live with me here at my parents' home. So, when I got the phone in 2016, my life became a little bearable.

"It so happened one day, while I was on Facebook, that I came across a certain post by Strive Masiyiwa. So short and precise, yet so hard to consider practical. He simply put it, 'Nothing must be added to a man that he can use and become successful. Instead, he already has the thing.' He further emphasized his point with a Bible verse, Exodus 4 vs 2: God could have easily given Moses something special to present to Pharaoh, but he rather let him go with the rod he already have.

"In my own case I needed no pen and paper to list my possessions, because to my name was entitled a single possession: The phone. The only list I could possibly make was of all the possible ways I could use it with, to earn dollars. Well, that wasn't an easy task to the empty brains of mine, but I tried anyway, only to come up with nothing in ink. Two days later, I somehow decided to join various Facebook business groups, then created my own WhatsApp business group, which I then advertised in the Facebook groups. It was another heck of a job, because WhatsApp hadn't yet constructed the join by link feature, people would drop their phone numbers in the comment section. Worse that I had never heard of copy and paste feature. Three A4 pages were filled in blue inked phone numbers that day. After that I saved them one by one to the last one. But you don't worry for me, I actually enjoyed it, for I had never done anything so much response awarding. And better yet, WhatsApp groups could only carry hundred participants. Mine was full in a day.

"Instantly, the group became active. I couldn't sleep that day. If you were in my shoes, you could get how it feels to administrate ninety-nine grown-ups. It didn't, however, take me two days to realize my blunder. I needed something that puts a dime in my pocket not something that does a great job draining my battery. A new list had to be made with immediate effect; A list of all possible ways to earn with it. Okay, I got two ideas. The first was to make every participant pay a dollar every month. But then, I realized that it wasn't the sort of idea to entertain at any minute. The second was to help the participants advertise their goods and get a cut at every successful sale. But I had my doubts, I didn't try.

"Tell you what brother? Something happened the following day. Somebody from the group sent a message. 'Hello Mr. Admin, would you please help me advertise my car.' That was the first message, then below it, was another with the car's details and pictures. The car was a Nissan Tiida hatchback.
"Crazy how I posted the pictures on Facebook. I tagged my ex-girlfriend each time I posted, so she could be notified of my new life. That was until another message was sent by the same guy. 'Thank you admin, the car is gone.' Okay he had find the buyer himself. I should have been discouraged if I hadn't thought the matter out. I created another WhatsApp group, specifically for car dealers. I had already created a Facebook page for the cars. I would then inbox every dealer and ask if they would want me to advertise their cars. All of which agreed and sent all their cars.

"Then a problem emerged. The phone began to crash and freeze more frequently than ever before and sometimes overheated to extreme temperatures. I would temporarily remove the battery and place the phone on floor. It became a big threat to my newly founded business. I had to buy a new bigger phone, for the near outcome was as vivid as a rock, the phone would someday die. What then? The business had to buy the asset. I set the date to the thirtieth day of April. Type brother? Well, I didn't know exactly but a tablet would do. I wrote the goal on a small piece of paper, which I would read every morning and night.

"Tirelessly I worked day and night. Baths were skipped, meals were at times forgotten and sleep was deprived of. To my grandma, I became a lazy piece of shit. For three weeks, I worked like so. On twenty-nine April I gave up. No response no what? I had to quit. But in the evening, on the same day, while I was in the kitchen with my grandma, the phone rang. Ah, it was a new number.

'Hello, is it Mr. Wilson?' Came the strange voice. To tell the truth, I was never an English speaker, even to this very day. My English was that I had learned from reading.

'Ye..yes sir, how are you?' The words slipped from my mouth unawares.

'I'm fine boss, is your BMW X5 still available?'

'Yes sir.'

'Okay is it diesel or petrol?'

'No, it's petrol.'

'Oh okay, I want a diesel, thanks though.'

'No worry, sir, I can get you exactly the one you want, is your number on WhatsApp?'

'Yes boss, send whatever you get.'

"Immediately after the phone call, I met my grandma's eyes. Her mouth was open in disbelief. Never had she anticipated that English could ever escape out of a shithead's mouth. She hadn't obviously understood what the conversation was all about, but her sixth sense had informed her it wasn't ordinary. At least she didn't notice how shaking was my body after the call. Ignoring her, I rushed to my room and sat for WhatsApp. I requested the car to all my groups. Thank goodness I got more than ten responses. Thank goodness also that Econet wasn't yet limiting its WhatsApp bundles. I forwarded the pictures and details to my client.

'None of these is a facelift, I prefer a facelift.'

I went back to my groups and requested for it. No response, I tried Facebook, no response.

'I'm sorry sir, I couldn't find it. How about if we try another type, did you only want a BMW?'

'Yeah, but if you can find an E Class Benz, it would be fine.'

I went back to the groups. Great! I got tremendous response. I forwarded the photos. He was interested in one, so he asked for its details and got them.

'I'm in Bulawayo, I will drive the whole night to Harare. Let's meet in CBD at seven thirty.'

"Now brother you feel happy for me, don't you? You should be told that I had no bus fare. My grandma said she hadn't sold a thing at her stall. Time was around ten and I had to find the money, or I would commit suicide. In a minute, I was knocking on brother Joe's door, you see that house over there. Glad, he was still up. The purpose of my visit was explained, and Joe had replied that all he had was a $5 note and nowhere to get change at that hour. He was persuaded and eventually gave it all.

"It is laughable that before daylight, the following day, I find myself already walking down Jason Moyo. I opted for the Sunshine City Park to rest myself waiting for the uncertain day to present itself. I could have died that morning from cold. You know it brother when you own plenty of jerseys but none of which fit for outgoing. Seven-thirty came, eight o'clock, eight-thirty. I sent a WhatsApp message, which never delivered that morning. I was beginning to fear when the awaited call finally came.

'Morning boss, I was called at ZITF. I have a few things to fix so we can push our deal to tomorrow.' Said he, not having a clue of what I was going through. Alas! I had already anticipated it; it could have been a surprise if the deal had succeeded. You know how things go when you are certain that your life was cursed before your birth. But then, a second thought clicks in my mind while the handset was still against my ear. Surely, this could not at all be a mere coincidence.

'No problem at all sir, your car is waiting for you. We can do the deal when you are done there, at what time do you think you will be done?' I told you brother I was and still none of an English speaker, but my mouth seemed to know better.

'At half-eleven, I will be done boss.' He said and cut the line. Then there was another problem. My phone battery was hanging on five percent threating a shutdown. I knew as well that sooner or later my stomach would be casting such a threat. The car dealer called a little later and received the update. There, I sat till my buttocks couldn't bear my weight. I rose and rambled in the streets but was back in minutes. Half-eleven came, twelve, twelve-thirty, no call. I had to risk another dollar from the four dollars left. So, I did and bought a recharge card. I was beginning to dial his number when the phone rang.

'Done boss where can we meet?' Came his voice, somewhat excited. Where else friend? I only knew Joina City.

'At Joina City sir.'

'Okay almost there.'

"I had never participated in any sporting activity since my childhood but on that day, my lower limbs surprised me. I was in third street and had to walk down Jason Moyo to Julius Nyerere. I raced like a mad man and evoked most car hooters in the streets. I was there at Joina when the phone rang.

'Couldn't find parking at Joina boss, I'm now at Robert Mubage and Angwa. I'm in a red Mazda Demio.' No problem, I was almost there in a second. When I saw the car, I paused to catch my breath and adjusted my clothing to be at least presentable. I gathered courage then walked towards it. I knocked on its right-wing window, which at that instance, slipped down to expose a strange dark face.

'Yes,' said the face with a questioning look. He must had mistakened the seventeen-year-old before him to a beggar. And I could have shrinked to a pea size if it was possible, for I had never been that shy. I stood there starring at my shoes as if they had turned to cups.

'I'm Wilson sir, for the car deal.' I managed to say. He could have laughed to death but was beyond that. I prayed he couldn't at one second think I was a thief.

'You mean you are the one I was all this time talking to?'

'Yes sir,' replied I, and that's when he laughed, I guess he had never laughed like that before. All I could manage was grinning idiotically. Finally, he motioned me to get inside.

'Where is the car?' Enquired him, still in disbelief. I called the car guy, said was coming, in fifteen he would be in CBD.

'Fifteen minutes? Fifteen minutes is a lot of time, let's find something to do my guy. Where is the nearest carsale from here?'

'These guys were geniuses my guy,' said he, raising the UB40 track on radio. The nearest carsale was in Kenneth Kaunda near Julius Nyerere. We parked our car outside and walked right in. My client interest was drawn to a certain Mercedes-Benz E Class.

'This car is beautiful Wilson,' he commented. To tell you the truth brother, I felt a pit being dug in my heart. Surely this guy couldn't be serious.

'Oh, my guy, it has a dent!'

'Oh God the dent makes it look bad,' replied I. Did I have any idea what a dent was? That's another story. My phone rang from my pocket. The car guy was in CBD.

'I'm parking at Bata, that one in Kaguvi, ah is it Kaguvi or Ambuya Nehanda? But you know the one I mean, right?'

"We were there within a few minutes. I should tell you how relieved I was when the two parties met. Imagine if my battery had gone flat before they did. Little did I know that Benz has a lot of these and those inside and outside. We took a great deal of inspections on it; in fact, I wasn't inspecting a thing but rather following the two. Satisfied with it, my client asked for its book. Well, the book was in Mbare. So, we left CBD with the new beast. The carsale was and is still located at corner Simon Mazorodze and Remembrance, opposite ZBC. When we arrived the car guy left us for a second then returned a little later.

'I'm sorry guys the book was left in Kuwadzana, I sent the boys to collect it. They will be here in a few minutes.'

'Who?'

'These boys of mine, I sent them to collect the book in Kuwadzana. We forgot it there.'

'Ah! It's in Kuwadzana? Be serious guys, you know I spent the whole night driving and had not eaten a thing since last night.'

'Sorry it was indeed a mistake, sorry sorry mudhara.'

'Okay my guy Wilson, come let's find something to eat, I'm hungry I can eat a skunk.' If you know the place so well brother, there is a parking lot just next to the carsale and a Baker's Inn shop. Anyways, we walked past the mentioned shop and also past Chicken Inn then into Nandos. It was recorded for the first time in world history that I had just landed in Nandos.

'What do you eat, Wilson?' Another question, Lord. At least, my brains computed an answer before I knew it.

'Anything sir, anything.'

"The food we paid for was called Hungerbuster. The name was too promising but was, however, right for the two of us with empty stomachs. We find unoccupied seats amid the room and waited for the waiter. Well, it was a waitress who attended to us. You can be tempted brother, to think I was happy with the food. Yeah, the food was great, but to my horror there was a fork and knife part of it. I knew at once that the expedition was never going to be enjoyable. But I was a little smart, I pretended to be busy on my phone while observing how the man handled the two tools. That wasn't an easy task, considering how my stomach pushed me. Anyway, I mastered the basics in a minute then jumped into food.

Soon after the stomachs were filled, we returned to the carsale. Luckily, the book was already brought, so we got down to business. The money was counted, and the agreement of sale was signed, with me as the first witness. Left, was the commissioner of oaths' stamp. The Benz carried us back to CBD for the commissioner. Soon after, the car guy called me aside.

'Here you are, thanks for the service. Hope to see you again.' Said him, smiling all the way to a point behind his ears. He handed me a hundred dollar note which I grabbed instantly, folded it and shoved it into my back pocket as if it was nothing to me. If you were observing brother, you could have possibly made a mistake of thinking that I possessed a calm mindset. Yeah, my body was calm, but my mind was running to and fro, shouting Hallelujah!!! I could jump out of my skin.

Now seated in the new beast, the two achievers.

'I still don't believe my eyes; I think I learnt a lesson today. Wilson, you are a soldier. I'm going to tell my wife, oh! What if... Okay we can make it this way, we go to my house in Bulawayo. You drive the Demio; I'll pay you don't worry.'

You see, how opportunities present themselves, but let's stop there brother, for I wasn't ready for it.

'I...I really like the offer but hey...I don't have a driver's license.'

'You don't? Oh, okay let me call my young brother. I want someone to drive the car.' He did and the young brother said will be there after an hour.

'So where do you live?' He enquired. I should inform you brother that I had learned from experience that it had its consequences to tell someone that you live in Epworth. Perhaps because, the ghetto was believed to be a home of the most professional thieves. He would probably think I was a smart one.

'I live in Kambuzuma 2 sir.'

'Okay I'll give you a ride, you know I can't just wait for an hour here.'

You worry for me brother, right? Sure, you must, because I was in a tight squeeze. Nobody of mine did live in Kambuzuma. I could immediately see the guy fumbling for his new car keys on the dashboard.

'That will be great sir, thank you. But I will have to see my dad first. His office is just back there, just a second.' I said already exiting the car, for I knew he would probably offer to take me there.

'Don't worry, Wilson. I will be here.'

Outside, the morning scenario was back in action. My body was now running parallel to my mind. I sprinted madly towards Gulf complex.

'Sorry we are closed,' announced a security guard on the gate.

'Sorry it's emergency.' I pushed him aside and took the stairs up. Few shops were still open. I went right into one of them and placed my hundred dollars note on the counter and pointed at a white tablet on the shelf. I don't remember counting the change, I just shoved it into my pocket and left. Outside, it was beginning to get dark. Rezende street was crazy with shouts. 'Overspill Epworth! Overspill Epworth!' I opted for the most expensive omnibus and luckily find myself the front seat unoccupied. Now, I had to call my client and deliver my newly cooked up excuse. But before the phone went through the battery saw death. Just then, I heard some noise outside. I let my ears absorb the situation.

'The bus and everyone inside is arrested. Who told you there is a rank here?'"

What interrupted the two of us was rain. We were so lost in the story that we couldn't see what May had to offer that day. And you know it friend, we had also completely forgotten our jobs. Not a big problem though, at least to my side, I would throw up an excuse to Till, my supervisor.

But at least now, friend, you know how I came to lose my job.