Mangled Shoes

CHAPTER 7

It took the market lady about two minutes to dish out the pap and bring it to them.

"One for the babalas," Rivaldo said.

His friends laughed even though they were too hungry and lazy to talk. They had had much to drink the night before. Back at the house, Deborah was getting ready to leave. She did not want to make anyone feel uncomfortable, especially not in their own home. Besides, she was a misfit.

The sixteen-year-old creeped out, stressing. She could not find it within herself to master this carefree life. Deborah was always worried about something. Always looking over her shoulders.

She was heading out to do some code-calling or job hunting right now. In order to get freedom, this had to be the first step. She would have to buy food and other necessities if she planned to stay here for an extended period of time.

Even if having a one-bedroom apartment in the backyard would be ideal for her, until she felt ready to go back to her chaotic family, she would make it home. Should the need ever arise,

Deborah ambled across the Central Business District streets. lacking any supporting documentation and without typing a curriculum vitae. She knocked on people's doors. Speaking with one boss, then the next. She pulled her chest out and extended her shoulders. exhibiting elegance and confidence when greeting each prospective employer

"Good afternoon, Madam or Sir. Deborah is my name. I've come in to see if there are any positions available for temporary workers."

This was dubbed "code-calling." When employers have the opportunity to politely dismiss someone with a kind and honorable reply,

"Sorry, we are not hiring."

But she could not hold them responsible. She had come in here without any supporting paperwork. Deborah didn't look like a teen, more like a preteen. Employers were forced to respond by defending their commercial interests as a result.

That didn't stop her from trying again.

She looked sad, crushed at her own failure.

Her eyes were wider than her tummy at times. Deborah unexpectedly discovered the Kalahari Coffee and Jazz Cafe, a coffee shop. A coffee shop featuring artwork, picture windows, and hanging baskets The time zones of the various African nations were displayed on wall-mounted clocks.

Deborah stood in front of the glass pane, staring inside to see if anything was going on. Deborah pushed the door open and entered after noticing the note on it that said, "door closed due to cold; come in; we are open."

The light from the skylight filled the top of the building. Dozens of photos were included. pictures of dunes, haphazard street art, and Ovahimba women and their infants The place where the cabinets are stocked with coffee is not too far away! Premuim Arabica coffee, not just any coffee.

The packages underwent meticulous handpicking, roasting, or grinding. All brimming with a crisp, subtle, yet potent scent of coffee.