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Chapter One – More Black People
Opportunity In Misery
The dust had barely settled on the scandalous revelation that senior-level politicians had been involved in the orchestration of the assault on teenager Damon Adebola, and the subsequent riots led by pan-African organisation, African Descent. Pressure for a General Election had been steadily growing across all political parties.
“I’d like to ask the Right Honourable Gentleman, how can we trust those in power to govern with integrity after all that has transpired? The people need to have their voices heard,” called a senior Opposition politician.
Jonathan ducked and weaved as he tried to make his way through the crowd of protestors that had congregated outside of the Tube station. “No justice, no peace!” shouted someone with a megaphone. “We need change, we need change!” called the crowd in response. He was unaware why there was so much uproar and commotion. He just wanted to get to his gran’s and was already late. By the time he arrived she was sitting comfortably sipping on a tea and looking at a newspaper.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he leaned in for a kiss. “There were all these protestors outside the station from the Damon Adebola inquest. They’ve caused delays on the Tube, too.”
“Mi know, mi know, it in the paper, too. All dis stress and summin over the African Descent ting. The riots and protest is dangerous. People fi get hurt.”
“I know. I don’t get it, if I’m honest. Sometimes I feel like I should be closer to this stuff,” Jonathan admitted.
“You need to stay away from trouble. It don’t concern you, ya hear?”
Jonathan wanted to challenge, but accepted the tone, a tone he was used to hearing growing up, a tone that said this was not a discussion. “How are you, Gran?” he said, changing the topic.
“You know, mi good,” she replied with a small cough.
“Good. As long as they’re looking after my favourite person. So we getting the cards out, some Black Jack?”
“You want a beating so early?” she laughed. “But wait, tell mi first, you find someone yet?”
“Gran, you know I work hard. There isn’t much time for that stuff.”
“How you mean ‘that stuff’? Love? Love is life. It is why we are here, not those games and cartoons.”
“Gran,” he pleaded, hoping for a reprieve, but he knew she was right: what was more important than love? The truth was he had been trying, a bit at least. Jonathan was self-aware enough to know he wasn’t the archetypal attractive male. His qualities were more subtle and nuanced. He wasn’t the type to be in the bar on a Friday night, but the digital approach wasn’t bearing much fruit either. After some coercion, he’d downloaded pretty much all the apps, uploaded his best pics, but failed to generate much interest. It seemed the Jourdan Dunns of the world didn’t have much interest or time for a man of his disposition. “So, Black Jack time?”
“Ok, get di cards dem.”
***
The results from the Inertia internal survey were in and, to Deborah’s relief, they were marginally better than the previous year. She had her tea ready, calendar blocked and was ready to interrogate the findings. The annual anonymous questionnaire gave staff the opportunity to share their thoughts and feelings about the company’s environment and performance. Were people clear about and happy with the strategic direction of the organisation? Did they feel heard and valued? Did they believe they had appropriate opportunities for development and career fulfilment? And did the company provide a culturally progressive environment? Most of the questions were on a scale of 1 to 10, but there were a few which had free text options for more detailed feedback. The real reason Deborah was so happy with the results was because she would be able to share the outcome with the executive committee and hopefully use it as leverage for her own promotion to the committee. She played around with the Power Point, trying to figure out the best way to present the findings. Do I need to highlight the year-on-year improvement? As she fiddled, she took a look at some of the more detailed feedback provided. She noticed a couple of comments that she had not registered in prior years: “It would be good to see more diversity throughout the organisation. We need to recognise and educate on issues of D&I.” What is D&I?. She sipped her tea.
***
“Sir, we have the report for you.”
“Just leave it on the desk,” he said as he scrolled through the evening news updates. The growing public discontent and political in-fighting was becoming more vehement. He opened the report and flicked through the detailed profiles, each accompanied by a photo. He read and re-read the profiles before stopping on one for closer inspection. He studied this image. There was a level of charisma that could be detected from the photo alone; his academics were stellar, upbringing well-suited and choice of partner perfect. “This is our man,” he said to himself, rewarding himself with a sip of whisky.
More Black People – Kyle Powell
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