Trafika Europe 11 - Swiss Delights

Trinité bantoue

have sprung for a taxi. That ’s what another woman did who didn’t want to wait more than five minutes. But you see, a little more than a year ago, when I was finishing my masters degree with bravado, I learned I’d lost my job. I was a traveling sales rep with Nkamba African Beauty. After five years of good and loyal service, my boss, Mr. Nkamba, thanked me. He did so without the slightest hesitation. He didn’t offer any explanation. It went like this: he was putting an end to our collaboration. Period, the end. Anyway, we didn’t have a written contract. I sold his products and he gave me my gombo. All done in silent mode. Between us. Between brothers from Bantuland. What am I saying? Nkambo only came from there. He had passed to the other side just a few months ago. He had proudly renounced his Bantu citizenship. He’d become Swiss. Swiss and nothing else. I’m a real-real native Eidgenosse!, he would say puffing out his chest. I even heard that he votes rightwing. But I couldn’t care less about all that. What ’s most important to me is work. And I don’t have any. WhenMr. Nkamba told me he didn’t need me anymore, I didn’t believe him. What did I do wrong? What problem could he possibly have with my work? I made my numbers. Very good numbers, for that matter. I never skimmed anything off the top. I never behaved badly with his clients. On the contrary, I always had

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