Where is My Tuna?
The English teacher told us a storekeeper is someone who owns a store. He does stock taking regularly, to make sure he has enough sugar, condensed milk, flour, salt, tea and other ‘civilized’ goods the British brought to Africa.
Storekeepers are extinct. We have store managers now and they don’t do mundane tasks like stock taking. The computer does it for them. I take the peanut butter to the cashier. She scans it. The computer tells her the price. It also sends the transaction to the warehouse, which is keeping tabs on how many jars of peanut butter have been sold. How many left, 20? The warehouse prepares another order for the store. How do you know it’s 20? Guesswork, because peanut butter stays longer, not like cereal that flies off the shelf.
That is how I lost my tuna. I was confident that the store at Hargrave Market will re-stock it digitally. It’s been more than six months, which means the warehouse doesn’t have it. Maybe fishermen are on strike or something. I’ll never buy another tuna again because I don’t like it, too dry. This was special tuna because it had olive oil. I tried it reluctantly. It was so good it became a staple. It was great with whole wheat bread and guess what? Pasta.
By: Nonqaba waka Msimang.
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