Junkyard Blues

Chapter Forty-three

179 C Chapter Forty-three erfecto,” Niba cried looking at the computer screen, a smile eating up all his face, “A junk is a junk,” he turned to Jude and said, “This is how you handle them, don’t ever say I didn’t teach you everything.” Somebody was going to pay, that was the only reason for Niba’s happiness. “I was already broke,” Niba said and exhaled noisily then leaned back in his chair, “What’s four hundred dollars in our money?” Jude calculated and said, “About one hundred and eighty thousand.” “That’s not bad,” Niba said, “I love this thing, man. When they fall into your trap don’t ever let them go, that’s the golden rule,” he smiled, “In less than a day or two that stupid old woman will be begging me to accept her money, just wait and see.” What always surprised Jude was the confidence that Niba had when he was dealing with a potential client. It was like he had a sixth sense that told him if a client was going to pay or not. A sixth sense that told him what to say to the client to turn his or her head around and turn the brains inside into a mass of useless gel. The clients seemed like feeble minds, feeble minds who could be turned into puppets and controlled to do whatever Niba wanted them to do. It was amazing to see it. “I told you, man, this thing’s like child’s play.” It looked and sounded easy when Niba was the one explaining everything to you. But Jude knew it was not a piece of cake as Niba said it was. There were issues just like with any job in this world. One of those issues was the problem of time. Sitting in a cyber café for hours upon hours and most of the time in the evening or late at night was time consuming and stressful. It was not only time consuming, but the fact that there were nights when the cyber café was not only cold but chilly was another thing to note. It was a difficult job physically even if it sounded like it was a piece of cake. And it was a difficult job mentally too, because there was need for a brain that was always inventive, a brain that could bring up new things even when there were no possibilities, a brain that could manipulate another brain into totally “P 180 believing a lie and accepting to buy that lie. And that mental aspect was more challenging even more than the physical aspect of the job… “You’ve to sound totally convincing, man,” Niba had explained to him, “If you’re the CEO of a company you’ve to talk like one; if you’re a doctor you’ve to talk like one. You must learn to sound like anyone you like.” “But how?” “Don’t worry, with time you’ll see how easy all these things are.” But how was it possible to sound convincing to someone who was miles away, someone who was probably more educated and more knowledgeable than you? To assume you were something you were not, someone you were not? “Don’t worry about that,” Niba had said, “When I started I had that problem too, I could not understand how that was possible, but now it’s easy.” Jude could not see how all that was possible and worse easy. He could not even understand how a picture on a website could even catch the interest of anybody; worse still the picture of a silly looking puppy. What did Europeans and Americans want with the stupid dogs anyway?... “Who cares?” Niba laughed, “The junks want their puppies and their monkeys and all the stupid things, that’s all that’s necessary. And the good thing is they want them strong enough to pay for them when you tell them to without too much argument.” And that was the soul of the business, selling imaginary stuff online, mostly puppies. It was funny when he thought about it, the fact that he was in Cameroon and telling a white man somewhere in Europe or America that he had a big farm that reared all sort of exotic dogs and puppies and he or she believes. Or the fact that people were posing online as honest to God business people who were selling ugly looking sculptures and traditional...