Just a Cleaner

By Hogande Kiafuli

The tiled floor was still wet, as it has just been mopped. It was the corridor along the Radiology department of Port Moresby General Hospital, which is also used as waiting room by the patients waiting to get x-rays and ultrasound scans. At one end of the corridor was a yellow portable signboard, placed on the floor. On it was written, ‘Wet Floor: Do Not Step!’ The floor was half-mopped to allow people to walk on the other half which was dry, and yet to be mopped.

   At the opposite end of the corridor, an elderly man stood watching (Let’s call him Mopa for now). The handle of the mop in his hand extended past his short stature. He rested his chin on his hand that was firmly clutched to the mop handle. He was waiting for the wet part of the floor to dry first before he can continue mopping the other half. It was simple logic. The wet floor will become dirty again if someone steps on it!

   As Mopa watched, a man from Tari, about a decade younger than him, walked in through the other end. He looked down on the yellow signboard, and walked straight onto the wet floor. It was as if he was water-blind, and cannot see anything that is wet! Three, four, and five dirty shoeprints were left behind on the floor. And it would have continued had he not heard a loud “HEY! Are you blind and cannot see that the floor is wet?” He stepped away from the wet floor and onto the dry part, with no word or gesture of apology. “Take it easy,” he shouted back.

   A few minutes later, a newly graduated consultant (specialist medical officer) in Medicine appeared. He wore a clean white shirt that was neatly tucked into his wrinkle-less trousers, and a Littman stethoscope was placed around his neck, resting nicely on the shoulders. He walked in and straight onto the wet floor, though he noticed that the floor was wet. Mopa watched in silence as the doctor walked past him, without even recognizing his presence. “Em bikpla man tumas na mi hat lo tokim em lo wokabaut lo narapla sait ya,” He muttered to himself as he bowed his head. “I’m probably invisible!” he wondered.

   Then he realized that somebody was standing behind him. He turned around and saw a very senior consultant gazing into the corridor. He stood there silently, as if waiting for something. “Are you waiting for someone, boss?” asked the cleaner in Pidgin.

   “No, Mopa. I’m just waiting for the floor to dry before I go across,” replied the doctor.

   “It’s ok, you can go across. It’s almost dry now.’ There was a tone of respect in his voice. Here was a senior, well respected doctor who called him by his name.

   “No, not yet,” said the doctor. “If I were you, I will be furiously mad to see people walking ignorantly on a floor I just mopped. Also, if this was my house, I would wait for it to dry first before I walk across!”

“He not only called me by my name, but placed himself in my shoe,” Mopa thought as he retired to his changing room when the hours neared 4:06 pm. He took out the uniform he was wearing, changed into his own clothes and walked out. After he shared a cigarette with a junior doctor, he headed for the bus stop.

   Bus was scarce, but he managed to catch a Bus 10 to Sabama, where his crude shanty home is located. As he placed his billum around his neck, he thought of the doctor with his stethoscope around his neck who paid no attention to him. He compared him to the senior consultant who knew his name, and noticed the marked difference in their attitude towards him. “I was told that the stethoscope is a symbol of his noble profession,” he mumbled to himself.  “Well, maybe he should start putting his stethoscope around his foot, so he can get into my shoes!”

   Every day I sweep dusty offices so my boss can sit in a clean environment, he let his thought flow. I try to make sure that everyone who comes to see my boss will have a good impression of a neat and tidy workplace. I sweep and mop dirty corridors so people can enjoy walking on. I dump stinky rubbish bins and mop floors stained with blood, urine, and buai so workers can enjoy working.

   Na tenkyu ya, see what I get in return! His thoughts continued. My bosses act as if I don’t exist or am invisible. Other workers in my workplace know me by the name ‘cleaner’. People who come to see my boss, whether they are patients or friends, seem to be ignorant of my effort to keep the place clean. When I try to remind them of something that is simple logic, they tell me that “Em wok blo yu ya, passim maus na wokim tasol.”Oh my goodness! If only people can recognize and appreciate me, and my efforts.

   “Maybe they are right,” he sighed as he stepped off the bus. “After all, I’m just a cleaner…”