Quiet minds cannot be perplexed or frightened, but go on in fortune or in misfortune at their own private pace like the ticking of a clock during a thunderstorm.
-R.L. Stevenson
EDITED.
Ikeja, Lagos, 2023.
1:30 PM.
Humming her favourite song from the north, Yaayi swayed gently to its beat in the silent kitchen, amidst the clatter of pots, pans, and spoons.
Working with the Yomi family was one of the blessings of her year, Yaayi thought. Reflecting on her past life in Dansa, Nasarawa, and the devastating war that separated her from her family, being a maid in this wealthy household felt like a hidden blessing.
Though the madam's character left much to be desired. Always summoning her for the slightest tasks, Yaayi couldn't complain, as the pay put food on her table.
Deciding to change out of her soiled dress after a warm bath, Yaayi hastened her chores.
Shouts echoed from the living room, likely the Madam urging the solar installer to hurry for her son's arrival from the U.S.
Despite the Madam's flaws, her love for her son was evident. Yaayi couldn't help but smile at the thought of Mr. Perfect that her boss has decribed her son of being. Probably with his jelly curls, an image that almost made her giggle.
"Mr. Charles, well done o!" she greeted the gateman on her way to dispose of the trash.
"Ah. Yaayi, good afternoon. I hope Madam no tire you? You better remind her about that waste collector's phone number wey she wan collect. How dem go con dey stress fine girl like you like this" Mr. Charles replied.
Mr. Charles, a beacon of kindness among the Yomi staff, always made Yaayi blush. Lagos was a land of opportunity for many like Mr Charles including Yaayi, who dreamt of escaping poverty despite her limited education.
Returning from her daydream, Yaayi noticed Mr. Charles tinkering with the generator. Promising herself to bring him a meal later, she hurried away to take her bath.
...
"Yaayi! Where has this silly girl gone now?" Mrs. Yomi muttered to herself, frustration evident on her face. Knocking loudly on Yaayi's door, she awaited a response.
"Yes? Hold on!" Yaayi called out, hurriedly sliding her dress past her hips while opening the door to her scowling madam.
"Have you cleaned all those rooms? What have you been up to? I've been shouting for the past two hours!" Mrs. Yomi exclaimed.
"Two hours? Madam must be mistaken," Yaayi thought to herself.
"What did you say?" Mrs. Yomi demanded.
"I said I'm sorry, ma'am," Yaayi replied.
"That's better!" Mrs. Yomi scoffed. "Remember my son is coming for a visit. Please ensure his room sparkles."
"Alright," Yaayi replied, surprised by the use of "please."
"That'll be all. And please set the table," Mrs. Yomi added.
"Another 'please'?" Yaayi thought, amused. "It'll surely rain today."
"Did you say something?
"No...ma'm"
"Hang on...I'm watching you. You've been acting strange lately," Mrs. Yomi accused, before criticizing Yaayi's dress and storming off.
Fifteen minutes later, after everyone had been fed and the solar installer had left, Yaayi collapsed on her bed with a sigh of relief.
"Not a bad way to end the day," she thought, remembering her madam's reaction to her dress.
"Maybe I'll use it to tease her about her son. As if he'd ever look twice at a maid like me."
With a tired sigh, Yaayi drifted off to sleep, hoping for a peaceful day ahead, free from her boss's rants.
P.S. Mr. Charles's dialogue is written in pidgin English, commonly used in Nigeria.
Translation: "Ah, Yaayi, good afternoon. I hope Madam hasn't tired you out? Remind them about the waste collector's number they wanted. They shouldn't stress a fine girl like you"
