Salim put the sheet of paper in his pocket before he closed the door of the house.
Nuru had already read it twice.
**1. I will make no further payments.**
**2. I am requesting a refund of my two payments.**
**3. I will not accept another stage, maintenance, protection, or completion payment.**
**4. The response about the refund must be in writing.**
“Don't add arguments just because he makes you angry,” Nuru said.
“I'll try.”
“This isn't a competition to see who has more words.”
“I know.”
“And if he says something that makes you start wondering whether maybe you should pay?”
Salim touched the pocket containing the paper.
“I'll read this.”
Nuru nodded.
Kassim was waiting for him at the arcade. He didn't open his printer shop. They took a daladala together and got off near Tunu's building.
“Do you want me to talk?” Kassim asked as they climbed the stairs.
“No. If he asks about your payments, speak for yourself. Today I start with mine.”
“And if he refuses both of us?”
“Then we'll have an answer.”
“And if he refunds you?”
Salim thought.
“Then we'll have an answer too.”
Tunu's door was open.
When he saw the two men, his expression barely changed, but his eyes stayed on Kassim a second longer.
“Kassim,” he said. “It's been a long time.”
“Yes.”
“Salim, I thought my message was clear.”
“It was.”
“Then?”
“I've come to close my matter.”
Tunu gestured toward the chairs.
Salim remained standing.
“I'll keep this short.”
He pulled out his paper.
Tunu saw it and smiled faintly.
“You've prepared a statement now?”
“I prepared it for myself.”
Salim read the first line.
“I won't pay again.”
Tunu looked at him.
“That's your decision.”
“I want a refund of my two payments.”
“For services you received?”
“For a service that kept turning into another stage every time I reached the end I'd been told about.”
“I never gave you a guarantee.”
“I know.”
“And you came voluntarily.”
“I know.”
“And after the first session you told me things had begun moving.”
“I said Juma had paid me.”
“And didn't he?”
“He paid because he received money he'd been waiting for. That doesn't prove you caused anything.”
Tunu frowned.
“How can you be sure?”
That question would have caught Salim a week earlier.
Now he said, “I'm not. And I won't pay you to sell me certainty.”
Kassim shifted his weight near the door.
Tunu looked at him.
“And you're the one who taught him this?”
Kassim said, “I'm the one who brought him here. That was my mistake.”
“Mistake?”
“Yes.”
Tunu gave a low laugh.
“You didn't call it a mistake when you got your contract.”
Kassim didn't answer immediately.
“I'd applied for that contract before I paid you,” he said. “I checked the dates.”
Tunu pushed his chair back.
“When people decide to rewrite the meaning of their lives after events happen, I can't stop them.”
Salim placed his paper on the table.
“Refund.”
“There is no refund policy after a service has been delivered.”
“Put that in writing.”
“You have a phone. You heard me.”
“I want it in writing.”
Tunu watched him for a moment.
“Why?”
“For my records.”
“Whose records?”
“Mine.”
Tunu leaned forward.
“Salim, there's a difference between being dissatisfied and starting a campaign.”
“I haven't started a campaign.”
“I've been told you're gathering people.”
“Gathering is your word.”
“Have you spoken to Saada?”
Salim hadn't expected the name.
Kassim looked at him.
Tunu saw their reaction and smiled slightly.
“You see? People talk.”
Salim asked, “How do you know about Saada?”
“She was a client.”
“How do you know she spoke to us?”
Tunu didn't answer directly.
“Bandari Kaskazini isn't a big place.”
Salim felt the urge to chase the question. Then he remembered Nuru: *don't change your objective because he makes you angry.*
“My refund,” he said again.
Tunu was silent.
Then he opened a drawer and took out a receipt book.
“The first payment was consultation. You received consultation. No refund.”
“And the second?”
“Follow-up. You received follow-up.”
“Which led me to a larger completion payment.”
“That was a recommendation, not an obligation.”
“But your message said stopping could take me back to where I started.”
“I was explaining the risk of not completing the process.”
“A process whose ending keeps moving.”
Tunu exhaled hard.
“Kassim, tell your friend this isn't accounting for bolts and screens. People have different situations.”
Kassim said, “Then why do our receipts have the same names?”
Tunu looked at him.
“Consultation and follow-up are ordinary words.”
“Completion stage?”
Tunu didn't answer.
Kassim took out a copy of his third receipt.
Salim showed a screenshot from Moses, with information Moses hadn't authorized for wider sharing hidden.
Tunu looked at them but didn't touch them.
“Two people receiving similar services isn't evidence of wrongdoing.”
“It's more than two,” Salim said.
Tunu raised his eyes.
Salim didn't give a number.
He didn't give names.
“And the messages follow the same pattern,” he said. “Pressure is a sign. Stopping is dangerous. Final stage. Then another stage.”
Tunu was silent for several seconds.
Then his voice changed. It became calmer.
“Salim, what exactly do you want?”
“I told you.”
“Both payments?”
“Yes.”
“That isn't possible.”
“Then put it in writing.”
Tunu looked at Kassim, then toward the door.
“What if I refund part of it?”
Salim's stomach tightened.
It was the first time Tunu hadn't said *no refund.*
“How much?”
Tunu named a figure.
It was close to the second payment, though not the whole amount.
Salim calculated automatically.
That money could restore a large part of the reserve.
It could help cover Mama Rahma's balance.
It could buy a small amount of stock.
Tunu added, “We finish here. I don't pursue you, you don't pursue me. No walking around with other people's screenshots.”
Salim stared at him.
“You want me silent.”
“I don't want a small matter turned into a war.”
“And Saada?”
“I don't discuss other clients.”
“Moses?”
“I don't discuss him.”
“Kassim is standing here.”
Tunu turned to him.
“Kassim can speak for himself.”
Kassim said, “I want my receipts to remain receipts, not proof that I was stupid.”
Tunu shook his head.
“Nobody said you were stupid.”
Salim said, “Your offer is a partial refund on condition that I don't share evidence?”
“Don't use legal language to make me say something I didn't say.”
“Then state the condition.”
Tunu went silent.
Salim took out a pen.
“Write it.”
Tunu laughed angrily.
“You think this is court?”
“No. That's why I want your words to be your words.”
Silence settled over the room.
Finally Tunu said, “I'm prepared to return part of your payment as a gesture of goodwill. But I don't want my name, messages, or receipts circulated with the intention of damaging my business.”
“And a formal complaint?”
“That's what I'm saying. If you accept the goodwill, we close the matter.”
“So I can't file a complaint?”
“Salim, don't force me to interpret every sentence.”
“That's our problem.”
Tunu glared at him.
Salim felt the money pulling at him.
Part of his mind began manufacturing reasons.
*Take it. Restore the reserve. Nuru will see you've brought something back. Mama Rahma gets the balance. You can decide the rest later.*
But *later* was where all the secrets had lived.
“I won't accept that condition,” he said.
Kassim looked at him, perhaps surprised.
Tunu said, “Then there's no refund.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes.”
“You're prepared to walk away from your money?”
Salim pulled his paper back from the table.
“I already walked away from it the day I paid you. What I'm deciding now is whether I also give up my right to say what happened.”
Tunu went quiet.
Salim headed for the door.
“Wait.”
He turned.
Tunu said, “Send your request on WhatsApp. I'll answer you.”
“In writing?”
“Yes.”
“I'll send it.”
They went downstairs without speaking.
When they reached the street, Kassim said, “I thought you'd take the money.”
“So did I.”
“Why didn't you?”
Salim watched the traffic.
“Because I came here to stop buying ten minutes of relief.”
---