THE IRONY OF LIFE (4) 😔😔

THE IRONY OF LIFE (4)😔😔

Duration: 4mins

All of a sudden,  dizziness swept over me I felt like collapsing already. Mounted up to the roof were countless rows of barricaded crates of Liquor. Our job duration was from 9pm-6am every weekdays, during which we would dismount and move the crates into three trucks parked nearby. We were to get $2 over each crate we are able to move. Everyone must go on a compulsory one hour break from 12midnight to 1.

To imagine I have always wanted smart work instead of hard.

How many nights of toilsome labor will I spend before I am able to pay $3500 debt and start sending money home?

“Note!” Thaddy’s deep-throated voice jerked me out of my thoughts. “Each bottle is worth double your fixed wage per crate moved. You don’t want to break any. Your time starts now!” 

I was almost knocked down as people launched forward as though their lives depended on it. Of course, our lives…

Three girls had broken down before the break. About that  midnight, I was only a breath away to being the next, willing hard like never before, wishing a man would please take the lead, crash, so I could gladly follow suit.

 

The first night, I was able to move 50 crates. The second, 47. The third, 44. It dropped on and on.

Each morning we returned to the house, I was always sleeping almost throughout the day as though I had slipped into coma. Jamani said my system would soon adjust to the change and I would be strong enough to move more crates.

When will that be?

We had spent over two weeks by then. One night turned out to be my best ever. A set of white guys joined us at the factory. As I saw one of them who was quite friendly, Josh, tucked out a phone, my mind went to my parents. I was about asking him to let me make a call when it occurred to me I didn’t know Mr. Fatai's number by heart.

Oh no!

I told Jamani about my predicament. My Kenyan friend was smart and always have a way out of every situation. One could say he did most of my thinking for me. At his suggestion, I asked Josh to let me use his phone to browse the net. Fortunately, Mr. Fatai was on Facebook. I texted him on how to reach me. 

Few minutes to 2 a.m. the next day, I was anticipating hearing my parents’ voice. Considering the 5 hours difference, my parents should be preparing to set out for the day. At 2 on dot, Josh’s phone rang. With my heart striking the walls of its chambers, I picked. It was Baami's voice that first came on. He was still inquiring about what happened when Maami took the phone. She was so excited to hear my voice I could tell hers was cracking into tears at the other end. I could only tell them I lost my phone. They were glad when I told them I was gainfully employed as an attendant at an electronic store that paid salary bimonthly. 

My parents voice reinvigorated me. Still, the best I could do was 54 crates. 

I don’t know what drew Thaddy's special interest in me. He called me one night and said a white woman in her late fifties, Mrs. Penelope needed someone who would be cleaning her house every Saturday, preferably a male, as it involved moving heavy objects. The cleaning shouldn't be more than three hours. She was offering $40 per hour. 

$120 in a day?

“Are you interest…,” Thaddy was still saying when I jumped at the offer. I was good to go. All I needed was to stay away from the cops. He wrote me the description to the place, and gave me $5 to board a   train. 

Wow!

Heaven is smiling down on me again. Maami’s prayers are working wonders.

Since over a month I had been working, I had never seen what a dollar looked like, not to talk of hold one.

It all felt like my life’s worth had just been converted into monetary value and handed over to me.

In the hip pocket of my jean where I kept the crispy note, I tucked in and out my hand every minute to catch a feel of it.

If only I knew my way around, I would have trekked rather than board a train. Better still, I could ask passersby for direction, but I feared the possibility of calling attention on myself.

Thaddy said the woman would be expecting me. That was on a Thursday. Thereon, the seconds hand of the clock moved at millipede's pace. 

The D-Day finally arrived. Not knowing what I would be faced with at Mrs. Penelope’s house, I made sure not to overwork myself at the factory, moved only twenty crates and no more. During the one hour break, rather than going about catching cruise with the others, I took a nap. At dawn when we returned to the apartment, I freshened up. While others were in deep snore fagged out from the night's job, I quietly set out. Only Jamani whom I told to watch my back was aware of my movement. Little did I know Monica; the African-American housekeeper was watching.

By exactly 9 a.m. I arrived at my destination as described by Thaddy. The building was a blue, tall, magnificent one-story building with an arctic. To the left and the right were perfectly manicured lawns demarcating a narrow path that led to a stairways and up to the entrance.  I was soon standing in front of a brown, paneled door. I pressed the bell, waited for response but got none. I was wondering if I was in the right place, perhaps no one was in, when the doorknob clicked open, revealing a lady in her mid-thirties, average height and perfectly shaped with hair bound in a ponytail. She was dressed in a  knee-length gown that accentuated her curves, big boobs and butt on the verge of a break out.

“Good Morning, I’m here to see Mrs. Penelope.”

“You are welcome. Please come in."

On entering, the interior got my Jaw sagging, and eyes; widened. A part of Paradise had fallen and I had just discovered where it landed. The architectural design—a zig-zag stairways that ran on two pillars, three crystal-gold chandeliers hanging down the white roof with tiny lightbulbs like sprinklers, lined walls as though each had been fitted rather than plastered. Coupled with the perfectly blending furniture, the space was a puzzle that could be disarranged and rearranged.

“What do I offer you?” 

The lady spoke from behind as she joined me.

Its been over a month and a half since I left the village of Agbómábiwón. I wondered if my ears would ever be tuned to the frequency of the white man's land.

The lady sounded as though she had hot yam in her mouth.

Kíní nwí?

“What?”

She repeated herself, picking her words like beans.

“Oh, I am fine for now.”

“Alright. Just a min, ” she said and went up the stairs.

I wouldn’t have mind a drink. But I needed to first meet Mrs. Penelope, deliver Thaddy's message, and know exactly what I would be doing around here. 

Thaddy had given me a sealed envelope containing a signed document stating he would be standing as my guarantor. 

A while later, the lady came descending with a bottle of wine in one hand, and tumbler in the other. I sat wondering if she heard me the other time.

She took the two-sitter couch across me, cross-legged with a little part of her laps left to the imagination. 

I was dumbstruck when she said,

“Call me Penelope. And you are?”

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To be continued same time, next week. Hope you enjoyed the read? Please leave a comment. Thank you.🙏🏻