There’s always a story behind a face

Some mornings she smiles at me when I pass by her at the gate of my workplace. On other days, I never see her face because I’m rushing, my mind focused on not losing a second because I must get to my desk on time.
I think during those times, I have missed her greetings. In the evenings though, we exchange pleasantries. This is when I notice her hair style or the white teeth under her smile. Typical of women, we take a minute or two to compliment each other and exchange pleasantries.

For all the four months or so that I have seen this face and a few others, I only learnt her name last week- Comfort. Who gives their children these kind of names! And no, she is not from western Uganda!
Like many security guards at our work places or other venues we go to, she could be invisible due to the nature of her trade. I can bet you that many of you do not know the names or anything else about those who protect you in the various places.

I definitely would not want to know the names of those annoying guards at some shopping malls or hang outs who persistently stand at my window coercing me into giving them a tip. “Soda”, “Chai” or whatever they can call it, just sounds very irritating when asked for. I’m always willing to leave a tip behind, but what irks me is the demand for one.

Comfort believes such people paint her line of trade badly. “I usually just talk politely to clients and greet them. Most times someone just decides to leave you something small. It helps, however, small but I can never force someone to give me something,” she shared her thoughts. While she does most of her jobs at different locations during the day thanks to her company’s policy of assigning women day jobs, for the last six months she has had to take on night assignments. “I study during the day, so I have to work night shifts. Right now, I have a show to keep watch over at Lugogo.” Comfort is learning to be a tailor at a small institute around town. With five months under her sleeve, she confidently tells me she can make me a nice outfit.

From my driving mirror I can see how animated her face is as she speaks about what she believes will catapult her to a bright future. The enthusiasm in her voice made our ride interesting. I was glad I accepted to give her a lift to one of the trading centres along my route home when she asked.

While she never told me her age, I place her at about 25. She has been a guard for four years, having left her village in Soroti right after her O-Level. Are you married? Any children? “Not yet,” was her surprising answer given the high rate of child marriages in eastern Uganda. She dreads an incident happening while she is on watch because then, she, would have to pay a portion of the costs as per policy.
Hers is a story you will never know each morning you pass by her, but hers is a story like many of us. A story of seeking your fortune, building your dreams and hoping for the best.