CHAPTER 9 (continued)

Posted: May 19, 2014 in Uncategorized

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CHAPTER 9 (continued)

Nothing is perfect, Life is messy. Relationships are complex. Outcomes are uncertain. People are irrational. – Hugh Mackay

 

We have been having supper out on the patio everyday since we moved into the new house. The atmosphere overlooking the pool and the garden is breathtaking, and I cant imagine how I survived without such a view. I call Elizabeth to set the table while I warm the food. Yusuf’s gone upstairs with the children to supervise pyjama time before supper.

During supper Yusuf tells us about the roll out of CCTV and Biometrics devices at the stores. It is a project that he has been working very hard on as the Security Manager at the company. There have been reports of stolen goods, and he had put in special security measures as a solution. It seems that the company was losing stock and it was only discovered recently. The children eat silently listening to the story and trying to make sense of it. He tells us his solution of biometrics devices that will store employees finger prints and they will have to scan their fingers to gain access to the stock room. He goes on to tell Jameela why security is so important and she hangs on his every word. I didn’t realize how important his job was, until he explains it in children’s terms. Once everyone has eaten, Elizabeth comes to clear the table. We all remain seated still listening to Yusuf’s story. “So the computer will then keep track of their activities and we can use the CCTV footage to pin point any employee helping themselves to stock” he says. He goes on to talk about biometrics and its viability in the future. The children lose interest and go into the house and play. I mention retina scanning- something I saw in a movie, and he surprises me by telling me that the technology really exists and that it’s too expensive now but in about five years they may start using that. I am fascinated as he explains to me exactly how it works. I obviously understand the non technical version. Once he starts talking about programming and Perl versus Sequel and the merits of SAP, I decide to cut my education in security short and say to Yusuf, “ If I’m late getting the kids to school tomorrow, Apa Tasneem will send me to the principals office.”

I go in to find the kids and put them to bed. After a story and tucking them in  each in their own beds ,I hear Yusuf’s cellphone ring. It sounds like its coming from downstairs. I hear him answer and I head downstairs to ask him if he wants some tea, the Indian version of a nightcap. I think he may be in the living room downstairs and follow the sound of his voice. It begins to get muffled and I hear the door shut, just as I get downstairs. Yusuf never closes doors when he is on the phone. I find it odd. When I get to the living room, I stare at the closed door. What possible reason would he have to close the door. I reach out to open the door, and then hesitate. His voice is muffled and low. The tone of his voice is urgent and hurried. I drop my hand as I try to make out what he is saying, but I can’t hear much. I feel stupid standing outside a closed door. This is my house too, I think. I can open the door and go in if I want. I still don’t move. My ears strain to hear any discarded words that make its way through the closed door. The sounds become more distinct, “Just, give me the address” I hear him say forcefully. “I’m coming now” he confirms. I take a step back. It sounds like he is coming towards the door. Panicked I turn and dash around the corner. He opens the door slightly. I hear him say just above a whisper, “ill, think of something. I hate lying to her”. He opens the living room door slightly, then stops and goes back in. There has to be a simple explanation I think, angry at myself for my wandering thoughts. I walk to the living room and push open the slightly open door ready to put on an oscar winning performance. Before I can get a word out, Yusuf pulling on his jacket, says “Sorry Hassie, I forgot I have to pick something up from Moosa”. Moosa is a good friend of his who used to work with him, he moved here to Lenasia about a year ago. Moosa and his wife Raeesa used to come over a lot before they moved. Yusuf had invited them on Sunday, but they couldn’t make it. “Can’t it wait, till tomorrow?” I ask. “Nope”, he says as he dashes passed me to the garage. “I’ll be back as soon as I can”, he says.

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