Chapter three: When the cheers fades
668 Words
Two months passed like a summer breeze—quick, warm, and slightly surreal. The morning sun had just pierced through the clouds, casting its gentle glow over Blantyre. Dumisani stood at the front of the Chikondi District Hospital, his white coat crisp, a stethoscope around his neck, and pride swelling in his chest. It was his first official day as Head of Diagnostics, a position granted by the Ministry not just because of his degree, but because of his groundbreaking thesis on zoonotic virus resistance. The world was noticing him.
“Doc, the boardroom’s ready,” said a soft voice behind him.
It was Lanwell Mseteka, his best friend since childhood and now a junior physician under Dumisani’s department. They’d walked the journey together, through textbooks, lab work, and heartbreaks. He had a sense of humor that could brighten even the darkest diagnosis. Today, however, his voice carried a weight of caution.
“You sure you want to jump into all this so quickly?” Lanwell asked as they walked in.
“I was born ready. This isn’t just a job, Lanwell. This is my beginning,” Dumisani responded, eyes lit with ambition.
Inside the boardroom, Dr. Yobe Chakondwa, Dumisani’s other closest friend, presented a report on rising flu variants in southern Malawi. He was the calm one, calculating and methodical, the one who always double-checked their work and believed in data more than instinct.
Deborah sat in the corner, reviewing files for a small outreach project she was leading in nearby villages. Her presence grounded Dumisani, and with her subtle smiles and affirming nods, he felt capable of anything.
The meeting concluded with light applause and a feeling of momentum.
But in the parking lot, across the street, Trevor Moyo watched from the tinted window of his car. He wore a sharp suit and had a smirk playing on his lips. He sipped slowly from his coffee flask.
"My little brother," he whispered, “You’re really flying now.”
Then he made a call. “Yes, I’ll need the files from the Chikondi lab transferred to Lilongwe. Say it’s for review. Keep it subtle. Don’t raise flags.”
His assistant on the other end hesitated. “But sir, that’s Dumisani’s new department.”
Trevor’s smile didn’t falter. “Exactly. Let’s help him shine brighter.”
---
Later that week, Dumisani’s department was chosen to trial a new set of vaccines meant for rural populations. He was ecstatic, and the team celebrated with a late lunch at Zikomo Café. Yobe raised a toast with a chilled glass of juice.
“To Dumisani Gondwe—the future of Malawi’s health sector.”
Laughter and cheers followed. Trevor joined them later, carrying a bottle of South African wine.
“Cheers to my younger brother,” Trevor said, wrapping an arm around Dumisani’s shoulders. “From walking barefoot in Mbayani to running a hospital wing. I’m proud of you.”
Everyone clapped, and Dumisani blushed modestly.
Deborah leaned close and whispered, “He really seems happy for you.”
Dumisani nodded. “He’s changed. I think he’s finally letting go of the rivalry.”
But Trevor’s eyes, as he sipped his wine, drifted too long toward the window. Watching. Calculating.
---
Later that night, Dumisani reviewed patient data at home. He was charting patterns that could predict immunity gaps in remote villages. Deborah brought him tea.
“You’re working too much,” she teased. “Even superheroes sleep.”
He laughed. “It’s not heroism. It’s responsibility.”
“And what if someone tries to steal your thunder?” she asked, half-joking.
He shrugged. “Let them try. As long as I know the truth, I can’t lose.”
Outside, rain began to fall—soft, consistent.
Trevor, back at his apartment, placed a vial into a refrigerated container. On the vial was a label with Dumisani’s initials. A twisted smile formed on his lips.
“This will be your greatest achievement,” he muttered, “and your biggest fall.”
- Writer
