The custodian from Ethiopia

I only met him a few times. He cleans the laundry room in my apartment complex, usually when I’m there. We say hi, and only recently our conversations are more fleshed out. He likes me, I can tell from the way he looks at me. However, he’s leaving soon, for another job, tomorrow is his last day, I found out from today’s conversation.

He’s nice, he’s kind and I found out, that he’s married? I wasn’t sure if the picture he showed me of a woman and him from the '80’s was his wife. Under the mask, his thick accent, and the rumbling of the washing machines, it was genuinely hard to understand what he was saying. I just listened as best as I could. A tabletop separating us.

I learned that he’s from Ethiopia, and I immediately jumped in and said I’m from South Africa. He was so surprised and immediately complimented me on how beautiful he thought I was, thinking that I was from India - like the majority of people I meet for the first time. I corrected him and enlightened him saying, that way back in the day, Indians from India settled on the east coast of South Africa and today there is a huge Indian population there. That’s where my parents are from, Durban, South Africa. You can hear it in their voices. In their accents.

He listened, with wide eyes and told me how beautiful he thought I was and that he would never get in the way of my relationship with my ‘husband’, as he refers to my boyfriend as such. I’m pretty sure I had told him at an earlier time, that it’s not my ‘husband’, but I guess he didn’t catch it. He just maybe had a paradigm, that two people who are romantically involved and live together, are married, and there is nothing wrong with that, but it’s not always the case.

I find also find it interesting how I tend to connect to ‘colored people’, just automatically. We’ve understood each other, from generations before us. We understand the history, the struggles, the freedoms that somehow we’re still fighting for today. There’s just an underlying connection and mutual understanding.

So the guy who cleans the laundry room.

One time I was doing laundry, and hopped onto the elevators, with my heavy ass laundry cart and detergent, going down, when it stopped at floor 9 (my lucky number).

No one was getting on, but I saw him vacuuming the carpets on that floor, and we greeted each other casually, and no one was getting on the elevator, as both of us confirmed it. However, as soon as the elevator closed to head down, it opened again on the same floor, and again I thought someone was getting on this time, but he made a statement saying that he wanted to come and clean the carpets in the elevator. And so I held the door open or at least attempted to, when he said he was joking, definitely in a flirtatious manner. And then he attempted to playfully touch my arm, but I retracted fast enough to hit the close door button, and down I went.

Oh no my brotha, I thought. In that moment, I just for whatever reason had the voice of DJ Jazzy Jeff from “Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” say it like he’s disappointed in another brother for trying to get a girl who already has a man.

You hear it, right? It’s not just me. With his vacation shirt and dark shades, and a slight frown. I guess you had to be there.

Besides, I do have a man, and I’m not about to fuck it up.

So this morning, we chat and I learn he’s from Ethiopia. We bond I guess over how it's dangerous and not safe to live there - it’s truly been a while since I’ve connected with someone who understood that. I have many friends from back home, and people who are from the continent of Africa.

So we chat, and I get caught up in the moment because I’m genuinely enjoying it. This connection. He soon attends to continue mopping, and I’m putting my clothes in the washing machines. After I’m done, I start to head out, and tell him I hope everything goes well with your new job, nice to meet you…have a good day. He tells me the same, and I make my way to the elevators. I’d be heading back down again soon to put my load in the dryers. I rode the elevator like a barn owl, cool, calm, collected. But planning and thinking and questioning my interactions.

Why haven’t I quit my job yet? I thought. It’s been 5 years. Nearly. I’m not doing 5 years at a job I hate. Well, dislike.

I even wondered what his life was like outside of this 'janitor' job that he had and then him getting a new one soon. I also now remember that he said he got his full driver's license. He looked like he was in his 30's. I guess it's never too late to start doing anything you desire.

As I entered my apartment, I truly couldn’t remember if I used 3 washing machines for my clothes or 4. We’re only allowed 3 at once, but I truly couldn’t remember.

All I could think about was am I going after the things I truly desire?