YAAYI

5

Yaayi stood outside Mr. Folu's door, hesitating whether to knock or call out to him.

Taking in the dimly lit hallway and the refreshing scent of air freshener, she couldn't help but appreciate her handiwork on the gleaming tiles.

With a deep breath, she finally gave the door a firm tap, its echo resonating down the hallway.

Receiving no response, she tapped again, this time with more force. "He must be really tired not to have heard such loud banging," Yaayi muttered to herself, shifting impatiently from side to side.

She could hear movement from within, imagining Mr. Folu lazily donning his clothes and rising from his bed. As she waited, she couldn't help but reflect on the disparity of their stations. She tried to recall the last time she had leisurely left her bed without feeling burdened by the weight of the world.

The door suddenly swung open, nearly causing Yaayi to stumble into the room. She quickly regained her balance, careful not to trap her hands in the door.

"Hey, what is it! You almost broke the door!" Mr. Folu glared at her irritably.

"Not my fault. You said to remind you when your guest arrived. Just came to let you know, si.." Yaayi trailed off, noticing Mr. Folu's raised eyebrows at her use of 'sir'.

"I shouldn't be much older than you, Yaayi. How old are you, by the way?"

"I'm 21."

"Pretty young then. But that shouldn't warrant you calling me 'sir'."

He let out a sigh. "Look, let me make this clear to you. No matter how much my mother yells, her bark is worse than her bite. She can't hurt a fly. You're not a slave here; you're part of the family."

"I don't feel like a slave!" Yaayi responded, clearly annoyed by Mr. Folu's implication that she had an inferiority complex.

"It's not about how you feel. By using 'sir,' 'ma,' and 'keetow' with everyone you meet because of your position, you're putting yourself under their power. No matter your life experiences, you should never think less of yourself," he explained.

Taking her hand, he admired its delicacy. "I'd say the same to my sister if I had one. You're a woman, and some men will take advantage of you if you feel inferior."

Ignoring Yaayi's angry glare, he left to meet his guests, leaving the door open for her to glimpse his rumpled bed.

"Hey! You wait! You're not my shrink, okay?" Yaayi almost shouted after him, realizing he was right. She couldn't contain the emotions rising in her throat as she felt berated like a child and a fool.

Wiping away her tears, annoyed at letting his lecture affect her, she entered his room to make his bed.
But as she struggled with the duvet, her anger boiled over. She took out her frustration on the innocent fabric, kicking it with all her might until she slumped to the floor, exhausted.

Realizing the futility of her outburst, she sighed and began to straighten the rumpled duvet, feeling foolish for taking her anger out on it.

"It's my job. The duvet served its purpose-to release my pent-up emotions," she muttered to herself.

Yaayi cleaned the room meticulously, noticing the absence of scattered clothing or towels on the floor, unlike what she had seen from wealthy kids on TV. She couldn't help but admire the expensive-looking laptop on the bedside table, longing for one of her own, at least it will help her with some online courses. She promised herself to save up more.

With one last glance to ensure everything was in order, she closed the door with a satisfying click.

...