A Weakness Called Love: Memoirs of an African Housemaid

Chapter 33: The Bus Ride

Two weeks after my parents miraculous acceptance of Mudi, I am now in a bus on my way to the town yet again. This time I am optimistic.

The bus is old, and was once painted white, for it was as if the paint has been scratched out, only parts of the bus held fragments of white spots, leaving the metal bare. The bus was like pieces of scrap metal glued together. As it moves it let out creaky sounds. It had a hard time starting. The men in the bus had to give it a push to get it started. The bus moves slowly and wearily. We felt each bump and potholes on the road in our gut.

We rocked side to side as our ride staggers on.
our brains afforded the time to daydream or rest. I looked out the window and kept my gaze on the trees we keep passing, my mind adrift. Some people chatter, their voices rising and blending together in excitement.

A woman with four kids sat next to me. She only paid the fare of a persons seat. So she made one of her son, obviously the eldest stand in front of her. The other two sat on each of her lap while she lets the youngest rest on her belly. When ever the eldest son starts dozing, she smacks the back of his head and orders him to straiten up.

I had promised myself to get a phone immediately I worked for a month. I owe it to Mudi and myself. I have real hope that I am going to get paid this time. Halimatu had finally forgiven me, but I had to beg her, my mum begged her without dignity and my dad thanked her profusely for having forgiven me, it was humiliating. Now the witch sits in the front row of the bus, chatting with complete strangers. She had promised my parents she is going to take me to a great house. A very pious and generous family, who are really good people.

Some girls in the village had been taken to the house, they were treated very well, they were well fed. By the time they came back home, all the men in the village were swarming around them, because they had became light skinned, added weight considerably, had well developed buttocks and a full chest. They were all married in no time. Now is my turn. I smiled at the thought. I was brought out of my trance when I felt a warm wet substance on my thighs which went straight into my underpants. I looked to my side and my suspicion was confirmed. The girl sitting on the fat cow's belly had just urinated. And now I am drenched in urine. Yeah! The waste product of a total stranger all over me even in my most intimate part. I looked at the woman. My heart was burning with fury. But according to tradition, I wasn't suppose to show anger towards the actions of another persons baby. It was almost a taboo. A child was considered everyone's. We were all suppose to treat children we never know as our own. They is a common saying in my language to that effect. We were all suppose to help a woman with infants and children. To carry them if the need arise. That was why when the fat cow was settling beside me, I did not change sit, I felt obligated to sit there. Even when I felt her crushing my bones, I just sat there and did nothing. Even when her dumb kid leaned on me although his mother was squeezing the life out of me I did not complain. That was why the bus driver never objected to a huge fat woman with four kids paying the fare of one person. Some hypocrites even played with the kids.

Town people have gotten a very new and expensive way to take care of this situation. They use some disposable thing. something they call "diaper". Lucky rich people.

Even in our village some sophisticated women sometimes tie rags around the baby when traveling to prevent him from assaulting innocent people like me. Though only 1percent adhere to it.

I looked at her, at least expecting her to apologize but she did not. She just laughed and said "you know kids"
She then says to the child, who cannot comprehend a word she says "look what you did to the girl " still laughing.

That's it, I lost it and say to her "Allah Ya isa,
God will collect my due from you on the day of judgement you oppressor"

She couldn't believe it She opened her mouth to speak but couldn't.
the woman who sat at her other side, who held the fat woman's huge bag, although she just met her on the bus couldn't believe it either. The bag she held was almost towers over her and covers her entire head. She had to stretch her neck before she could see me.
She cuts it and said
"Haba! Why! How can you say that, apologies to the woman you mean child"
Still stretching her neck like a giraffe as she shakes her head disapproving.

"This is non of you business, hajiya with all due respect" I replied

"Hmmm, with a generation like this, I fear for the future" the cow replied

"You kids are part of my generation" I retorted

"Enough Ladi! Halimatu say. Please"

Drenched in urine, the human cow squeezing the shit out of me, the bus slowly and creakily moving we arrived in town after a long while.

We took a tricycle to the supposedly good house. By the time we reached the house it was late evening around 4:30pm

It was like nothing I imagined. The house is huge and exquisite. They was a man at the gate, Halimatu greeted him and I followed suit. He let us in.

The floor of the house was neat and has ceramic interlocks. It was neater than my mother's bedroom. There were huge eucalyptus trees by the fence, which swayed magnificently, birds chirped. On the other side they had their own personal bore hole. There was a small room by the gate for the gateman. We walked for a while before we reached the main house, it is a duplex. Behind it is another house, a flat. In between the two House was a garden. Different kind of fruits grew there, there were sour soup, pomegranates, figs, mangos, guava, cashew, bananas, lemons, olives, oranges and grapes.

Behind the garden is a big pen house. The house is massive. Unlike anything I even seen. I became nervous.
We went inside the house and I was stricken by the rare beauty of it. The floors we silky and smooth, the tiles were nothing I had even seen. The inside of the house was really cold. The walls were painted white, they were spotless. Painting hung on the neat spotless walls. There was a beautiful chandelier and the lights were fancy. A girl of about 18 greeted us and ask us to enter a sitting room while she calls the woman of the house.

15 minutes later a strikingly beautiful woman
Came in, her face radiant, she smiles warmly at us. I had never met a town woman like her. They had always been arrogant and abusive. We greeted her and she answered kindly. She even asks me for my name, and I eagerly replied.

They talked for a while and the woman ordered the girl we first met to bring Food and water for Himatu and I. The girl brought the food, it was rice and stew, with big chunks of beef. We ate and it was delicious. Halimatu then decides to leave. She gave me the routine lecture about being good. After she left the woman yelled

"Yalwa"
And the girl came. She introduced us, and told the girl to show me things around the house. The girl's name is Yalwa.
So far so good.