Hard-earned Signatures

One Friday last month, I asked my school principal to certify a set of my photocopied academic certificates. I sounded as polite as possible. He flipped through the documents cursorily and put them on his table. Instead of signing the documents, he asked me to tidy up his office. I had no choice but to do his bidding. I swept the floor, put up framed certificates on walls, and rearranged books on shelves. It took me nearly thirty minutes to get all these menial jobs done. I went back to his table and reported that I had completed everything. He smiled and beckoned me to sit down. I was hoping he would sign my certificates immediately but out of the blue he took out his laptop from his bag and did some typing. My jaw almost dropped.

Just as I was about to remind him of certifying my documents, there was a knock on the door . How unbidden and untimely the interruption was! A neatly-dressed man came in and greeted the principal in a deep,booming voice. The principal stood up and asked him to sit in front of him in a gush of politeness. I had to let him take my seat and relegate myself to a chair beside a trophy stand on the left of the Principal's table. Having exchanged formalities with each other, they seemed to forget about manner and yapped about daily trifles in utter disregard of my presence. Occasionally, they burst into thunderous laughter. Men with high social standing tend to laugh like that. When the visitor brought up the subject of our school's marching band, the principal's eyes brightened and he waxed lyrical about it at length. I kept reminding myself to be patient.

I was filled with relief when the man took leave. The principal motioned me to move back to the seat in front of him. However, he gave me one more unrelated job. He handed me a newspaper and asked me to read some news aloud to him. I did it without objection again. After listening to me read five pieces of news, he nodded in satisfaction and scratched the little stubble under his chin. He finally signed the documents.

On my way out of the office, I heard the Principal singing 'What A Friend We Have In Jesus' in his guttural voice.

I hate my servitude but there was nothing I could do.