A Very Hateful Man

It was a time when death was walking tall over the land. Everyday, scores of people were dying. A new disease called Covid 19 was raging unchecked. But it was not this disease that would take the life of John Phodo’s uncle.

Phodo first heard the news of his uncle’s death on the radio. Then came the cellphone message. After that it was all over the popular local social media-Whatsapp and Facebook. At the age of 90 his uncle was dead. The business tycoon was gone.

He had received the message that his uncle was dangerously ill with the desperate wish that he should die. And by a stroke of luck, while he was preparing to go and see him, Phodo heard the special radio broadcast announcing the death of the country’s richest business man.

But he felt no loss. As he viewed his uncle’s body for the last time, he called out that he had lived in abject poverty while this man lying in the coffin lived in filthy luxury. Sometimes he had to go without food while this man had enough to throw to the dogs. He had to endure working as a general duties clerk in some obscure firm for a mere pittance while this man could have given him a good job in one of his numerous companies.

His uncle was nothing but a miser to the full extent of the word. Even when Phodo was so desperate and went to his office for financial assistance he would be given nothing. “I did everything I could do to put you on your two feet, John. I sent you to school, you failed. After that I gave you money to start your own business, you squandered it on women and beer. I’m through with you,” his uncle would say to him.

Yes, it was true that his uncle had sent him to school and that had he failed, that he squandered the said money on women and beer. But did that mean he should be denying him further assistance? No.

It was true his uncle had been greatly disappointed with his behaviour but why couldn’t he understand that to err is human? All the same, Phodo held his peace. This was due to one reason. His uncle had never married and had no children. He was his only close relative. Therefore, it was plain that he would inherit his uncle’s property.

Of course, there was Dulani, his uncle’s distant cousin. Both he and Dulani were raised by him. But his uncle had been very fond of him, not Dulani, until he failed school due to excessive beer drinking. They fell apart completely when he squandered the money the miser had given him to start his own business.

That’s when his place was taken over by Dulani who wasn’t exactly intelligent but was very hard working. He went up to university and his uncle employed him as the general manager of his biggest company.

But the fact was that Dulani didn’t really matter. Only he, John Phodo, was the heir. His mother, her soul should rest in peace, was the evil man’s only sibling. Dulani and a few other secondary relatives might get some endowments but he would get the bulk of the estate.

Year followed year but his hateful uncle did not kick the bucket. Yes, he grew older but his health remained as excellent as it was when he was young. Tall and built like an ox, he seemed impervious to diseases.

So Phodo had to endure the poverty, waiting and waiting, as the years crawled by. He had already laid his plans as to what he would do once he inherited his uncle’s property. What remained was for his uncle to die. But then spiteful old man continued to refuse to depart this life. He seemed as if he could read Phodo’s mind, for he would visit him at least once every year just to show him that he was still alive and strong.

Phodo began to worry that he might actually be the first one to die before his uncle. He was now 50 and his uncle 90 but looked as if he was his age mate. He couldn’t help wondering what the old man did to keep himself so health and young looking.

And if the ancient miser died very old it would do him no good, for of what value would be the inheritance to him in old age after spending his best years in poverty? They say life starts at 40 and he had already wasted the first 10 years of that in poverty. He needed the wealth now so that he could enjoy it.

When the first wave of Covid 19, also known as coronavirus disease, had struck the previous year, he had been hopeful that it would destroy the man. It was said old people were at more risk than younger people. He had visited the old man several times with the hope of infecting him if by any chance he was asymptomatic and was carrying the virus. The wave ended without his uncle even contracting a mere cough. The second Corona virus wave, more virulent and deadly than the first, struck at the beginning of the year. It also failed to kill him. What finally took him was a simple heart attack.

That is exactly why he was overjoyed when he heard that his uncle had finally given up the ghost. Like Thomas in the bible, Phodo could not believe that the old man had really gone to meet his maker. Only when he saw his body in the coffin did he believe that his tormentor had passed on and now he could inherit his possessions.

A muffled sob from Dulani brought Phodo to the present. Dulani’s face was almost invisible behind the mask he wore. Due to the raging Corona virus pandemic, it was mandatory to wear a face mask in public. Phodo took one last look at the body and slowly moved away. He went through the motions of the funeral ceremony like a robot while his mind was on his uncle’s worldly goods. He was reviewing the plans he had already made many years ago concerning his uncle’s property.

To show that he was the new man at the helm of his uncle’s business empire, he would still use the office his uncle used at the top of the five-storey building housing the head office of his uncle’s group of companies.

And to show his spite he would fire all employees who had been very close to his late uncle, Dulani inclusive. He would replace them with his own friends. He would give nothing to his uncle’s secondary relatives. His uncle had already helped them when he was still alive while he had been the outcast. He would give them nothing so that they too should also have a taste of poverty.

Phodo almost smiled to himself at the idea, actually licking his lips in anticipation. But he quickly reminded himself that he was at a funeral and did his best to make his face bear some semblance of bereavement. Then he remembered that there was no need to do that since he was wearing a face mask that hid his nose and mouth.

He went outside the mansion where pallbearers and other important people had gathered, the mask concealing his contented smile. Due to Covid 19 restrictions imposed by the government, less than 50 people were gathered, all of them wearing face masks similar to the one Phodo was donning. But all the important people were there. There was the city’s mayor and other important businessmen and government officials. Again, due to Covid 19 restrictions, there was no handshaking. All he could do was hit the clenched fist of each of them, accepting their condolences and then giving his thanks.

Then his uncle’s coffin was carried to the graveyard. After a short ceremony ending with a prayer by the priest, the coffin was lowered into the grave.

As the fragments of soil fell on the coffin, thudding, Phodo felt as if the body within was tapping to be let out. He almost laughed. He had beaten his uncle at long last. He, whom he had hated, would be the one who would enjoy the money he had carefully saved.

And to show his contempt for him he would spend the money on the things that he had disliked most; beer and women. His uncle, who always hated spending money, would watch with horror from wherever he was, more likely hell, as he squandered his money. Phodo would have the satisfaction of knowing that there would be nothing the miser could do about that. It would serve the mean bastard well.

After the burial, Phodo let two days pass before raising the issue of the will with other relatives. He wanted them to be present when his uncle’s lawyer was reading the will so that those left out should not cry foul.

The will was read in the boardroom at the top of the five-storey head office complex. Apart from Phodo and Dulani, ten other relatives were also in attendance. All were wearing face masks, some correctly covering both the nose and mouth, others only covering the mouth while others wore them under the chin.

The will was a long testament and they agreed that lawyer should just give them the essence.

“You will read the whole will later,” Phodo, clad in a suit that made him look like a clown, said with an air of importance.

The notary began by mentioning small endowments to the various distant relatives. Phodo was not bothered. That was nothing. What mattered were the big bequests. “He left the estates, maize mills, chain of stores and car hire firm to Dulani,” the lawyer said.

Phodo shifted uncomfortably in his chair and pulled his neck tie.

The lawyer went on, “He gave the cloth manufacturing company to Dulani. Also the shoe company. The fertilizer company. Also the soap manufacturing company…”

“The bastard!” Phodo burst out, yanking off his face mask.

The barrister ignored him. “In short, he left the bulk of his estate to Dulani. The tobacco estates and companies. Just about everything was left to Dulani,” the lawyer wound up.

“Nonsense!” Phodo screamed, looking at the lawyer with the glazed eyes of a mad man.

“The evil man, how can he do this to me?” He got up, his body shaking with anger. “I’m going to ask him to explain this. When he was alive he treated me like dirt and now that he’s gone he has left me feeling like dirt.”

Phodo moved towards the door leading to the balcony of the room and yanked it open. Realizing that the man was mad with anger the lawyer moved towards him. “Wait a minute, Mr. Phodo. Take it easy. We’ll discuss this later,” he said putting his hand on Phodo’s shoulder, trying to placate him.

But Phodo pushed him away. “Leave me alone, fool. What is there to discuss? Don’t you know that a will is permanent like death?” He paused and let out a short insane laugh. “Only the man who writes it can change it and since its read when one is dead, it can never be changed!”

“The courts…”

“Shut up! I need to see my uncle. He cannot do this to me. He must explain why he has done this,” he screamed while climbing the cement parapet of the balcony.

The lawyer knew what would happen. Phodo was blind, blind with rage and didn’t know what he was doing. He quickly moved towards Phodo. Swaying on the narrow parapet, Phodo shook his fist at the approaching attorney. “Leave me alone! I want to see my uncle. I want him to explain why he has done this to me!”

The solicitor moved to grab Phodo but he missed him by a few inches. Phodo toppled over and plummeted out of sight.

He crashed into a terrifying heap of red pulp far below on the pavement. He had joined his uncle and perhaps the stingy hateful man would be good enough to explain the will to him.

The End