Another hectic week of work but I am not complaining. It’s a lovely Friday night I have been looking forward to resting my feet and get lost in a good make believe romantic movie just that real life is a lot different from the movies.
So my weekend is suddenly turned to Nollywood and not the Hollywood I wanted.
There is a knock at the door with a rhythm to alert you that all is not well. The urgency with each “rap rap rap” gets me racing inside to retrieve a wrapper to cover my scantily dressed self.
I rushed to the door, amazed to see my Nanny – Madam Rose as we fondly called her.
She burst into the house as soon as I opened the door wailing “My daughter is dead!”
“Your daughter is dead?” I asked numbed with shock. My thought process is freezing.
“Hey! She exclaimed holding her breasts and swaying her head from side to side in anguish.
We held ourselves and started wailing. I was crying for the loss of the child as if it were mine.
I did not ask why she came all the way to my house or where the child was.
We were just simply us, women.
Hubby steps into the living room alerted by our cries.
“What happened to her?” he asks me searching my eyes but not coming to take me into his arms.
“Her daughter died,” I responded still in tears.
He faces Madam Rose and calmly asked her “where is your daughter?”
“She is in my Pastors house.”
“Is she dead?” he asked so composed that I am wondering if is this hubby is okay.
The woman has said her child is dead and you are still asking questions. I wondered to myself.
“Can I talk to your Pastor?” He asks as she rattles the pastor’s number to him.
He dials the phone while we hold our tears, sniffing at intervals while wiping our tears with the back of our hands.
Was he calling to confirm the death of the child and did not believe the mother that came all the way from her place to ours to inform us that the daughter she sent to school this morning was no longer alive?
“My name is JK and Madam Rose works for me. We would like to know the situation of her daughter.
From the conversation, we found out that the child was not dead but slumped. Madam Rose rushed the girl to her Pastors house, left the child there and took a bus all the way to our house.
Hubby was on the phone with the Pastor who had already taken the child to the hospital. The hospital had refused treatment until the payment of deposit. We resolved the issue with speaking to the Doctor and getting his name to be sure he was genuine, money changing hands and Madam Rose going to the hospital.
I can laugh now at Madam Rose and me, how we let loose our emotions, but I also celebrate the good men we have in our lives who step into situations, take charge and solve the issues.
I can analyse and wonder if it was not a case of being swindled? The supposed Doctor and Pastor we spoke to could have been a ploy, another school of thought.
However, with so many sides to a coin, doing good might seem an act of foolishness in the environment we are, but it does not rule out the fact that there are genuine people who need help and an angel in human form.