Tunu and Hamadi reached the service centre on the morning of the eighteenth day. Tunu carried a green folder filled with new dividers. Hamadi carried the household-reserve notebook, not the envelope with money. Lulu was at school; they had told her they would explain everything that evening after reading the entire decision letter.
Bi. Salma led them to the decision desk. An envelope sealed with the service centre’s stamp lay on the counter. Tunu placed the case receipt in front of her.
“Before you sign the collection receipt,” Salma said, “read the conditions. Do not assume that the word ‘approved’ removes every requirement.”
Tunu opened the envelope. The letter said that Duka la Kesho’s trader registration had been corrected through the transfer accepted by Pili, with the supplier settlement continuing in instalments, and that temporary continuation had become a permit with a review period. There were conditions to keep the current address, renew before the deadline, preserve technical inspection records and show proof of the staged settlement until it was fully paid.
“This says the registration is corrected,” Tunu said.
“Yes.”
“And here it says the supplier settlement is still outstanding.”
“Yes.”
“So the permit exists, but the debt has not disappeared.”
“That is why the letter requires proof of the instalments.”
Hamadi read the renewal section. “Is this date within a year?”
Salma pointed to it. “Do not wait for the final week. The system will need the current lease and the property code again.”
Tunu felt a small laugh coming, but it did not escape. “Will the plot number return?”
“It may be asked for at every renewal if the property records change.”
“Then I will keep the mapping with the lease.”
Salma put her finger on the technical-inspection condition. “The wiring repair is closed with a receipt, but future changes must be recorded. This is not a paper saying you will never be inspected again.”
“No. It is a paper telling me what I will be inspected for.”
Tunu read the section on temporary operation. It contained no words giving her immunity from complaints. Faraji’s complaint was marked reviewed, with no finding that he had put up the sticker. The service centre wrote that private closure actions were not part of the process. Tunu did not search the letter for an apology from Faraji.
In the decision appendix was a table showing which documents had been verified and which were marked for follow-up. Tunu read the category names, then checked Salma’s and the clerk’s initials. Wiring was marked *corrected and receipt attached*. Prior trader was *acknowledged by departing co-owner*. Supplier balance was *staged settlement, proof due on dates*. Address was *cross-reference accepted*. There was no line saying the rumor was true or that Faraji had been confirmed as the person who made the sticker.
“This is the part I can show the landlord,” Tunu said.
“Show only what concerns him,” Hamadi replied. “Do not carry the entire appendix into the corridor.”
Tunu took out a copy of the address cross-reference and the registration correction. In the shop index she wrote where the full decision was stored, but she did not display it publicly. She knew that transparency had a boundary; showing every paper to everyone could turn protection into exposure.
Salma asked her to write the date of the next instalment on the calendar. Tunu set two alarms, one for the supplier and another for the renewal. Then she asked whether the service centre could send a reminder. Salma said a reminder was not a guarantee, so the owner had to follow up personally. Tunu replied, “I will set my reminder before I wait for yours.”
Hamadi looked at her. “That costs the price of a pen, not a lawyer.”
“But it prevents another day of running.”
“And the sticker?” Hamadi asked.
“It is attached as an incident note. No person is named.”
Salma said, “The evidence helped show that the sticker did not come from our desk. It did not identify who put it there.”
Tunu initialled every page of the decision. She asked for a copy of the final checklist, the address-correction receipt, Pili’s acknowledgement and the supplier settlement. Salma gave her a packet with the case number and told her to keep two copies: one at the shop and one at home.
“Do not keep everything at the shop,” Hamadi said.
“And not everything at home,” Tunu answered. “I will keep the index in both places.”
They sat on a service-centre bench to count the amount of the first surplus. Tunu wanted to buy a new shelf and chargers to show that the shop had won. Hamadi reminded her about the **HOME** envelope and Lulu’s payment, which had still not been made for a whole month.
“If we restore the reserve first,” Hamadi said, “we will not walk in fear every week.”
“The shop will look as if it has shrunk.”
“The shop survived. It does not have to look as if it grew.”
Tunu wrote a plan: part of the surplus would go to the household reserve, part to the supplier instalment and part would remain for repair parts. No celebration meal went into the cashbook. They bought only two cups of tea with money Hamadi had in his pocket.
When they returned to the desk, Salma asked whether Tunu was ready to accept the conditions with her signature. Tunu said she wanted to ask one question.
“If my lease changes its code again, do I start a new application?”
“Do not begin by guessing. Bring the mapping, submit a cross-reference request and protect the submission receipt. The current record shows Unit 4, formerly 4A.”
“And if I am late with the renewal?”
“You will receive a notice according to the date. Follow that date, not corridor talk.”
Tunu signed that she had received the decision and conditions. Salma signed as the issuing officer. Hamadi put down his notebook and watched Tunu receive the paper without asking for an exception.
Tunu asked Salma whether the prior trader’s record would remain visible after the transfer. Salma said the history would not be erased; it would remain as a trail showing that the change had happened, along with dates and signatures. Tunu preferred that answer to the idea of cleaning everything as if the past had never happened.
“Will Pili still see her name in the history?”
“If she requests the record concerning her and follows the access procedure, yes. The current trader field is yours.”
Tunu wrote to Pili that the decision had come out and the transfer had been accepted. She did not send a screenshot of the whole letter. Pili replied with a waving-hand emoji, then wrote, *This is a written exit. Thank you.* Tunu saved the message in the transfer folder, not on the customer board.
“Will you put her picture on the board?” Hamadi asked.
“I will put the registration status and the next-renewal date. I will not put Pili’s information or the debt amount.”
Salma gave her the collection receipt. Tunu held the paper and looked at the name and business line. On the new receipt, the trader’s name appeared only once: **TUNU SENGO — DUKA LA KESHO.**
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