Utianle

Good morning Jesus,
Good morning Lord,
I know you come from heaven above . . .

A quick succession of rapid knocks interrupted my singing. Esther and Emma glanced at me, their interlaced fingers stilling on the worn-out couch.

"Utianle! Open this door, I know you are inside." Baba Eddy's boisterous voice rang out from outside of the wooden door.

We were still on our knees when I reached out for both of their hands, "tell him I'm not around, you hear?" My voice was a whisper and my words were mostly directed to the nine-year-old Esther. I took the cheeky grin and the scarf she removed from her head as a sign that she heard me.

Swiftly, I moved behind the door separating the living room and the narrow corridor, watching through the gap in between the door's hinges.

The knocks persisted, each knock sounding more urgent than the last. Esther's fingers reached for the key, turning it tortuously slow in the keyhole. Every second that passed felt like an hour, different scenarios on how Baba Eddy would handle the situation if he discovered this was another one of my antics played in my mind.

Forcing myself to remain still and think only positive thoughts, I balled my trembling arms into a fist.

"Good morning, Sir." Esther curtsied while Emma just stood beside her, both of them smiling innocently at him.

"Good morning, my daughter," their smiles were disarming, made even more charming with the loss of Emma's front tooth. It was no surprise that he beamed at them, his voice losing the edge it had when he first knocked. "What of your elder sister, Uti?"

Esther's lips parted to speak but Emma beat her to it, "Sister Uti say we should tell you that she's not around."

Argh! What kind of child is this one?

"Ehenehen. Is that so?" Baba Eddy's glare softened when it landed on the five-year-old snitch. He took a step closer to Emma but thankfully Esther pulled him behind her, blocking his view of Baba Eddy.

Unsure if that would keep Emma from spilling any more truths, I staggered into the living room, ignoring the presence of the pot-bellied man with scanty, silvery hair on his scalp. He was in his early sixties but still looked good; rumours of his prowess in bed forever floated in and out of this building unbeknownst to his wife who always swore on her husband's faithfulness.

Rubbing my eyes with the back of my palm, I let a fake yawn escape me, stretching out my hands lazily. I only stopped with the theatrics when a coughing sound reached my ears.

"Oga landlord," I started, even managing to pull off a look of surprise, "this one you came to the house so early, I hope everything is fine?" The smile I offered him was quite fake, more a grimace than a smile.

Over the last few weeks, since the expiration of the house rent, I had made it a mission to avoid him. It was a hide and seek game that was quite tiring. He would come in the morning or late at night when he was certain I was in but as always, I would dodge him.

His condescending gaze swept over me, coming to rest on my pyjamas which consisted of an oversized T-shirt -that stopped on my thighs- and a short I borrowed from my boyfriend, Umoh's house. Feeling my nipples rise at such close scrutiny, I folded my arms across my chest, gesturing for Esther and Emma to go inside.

"When will you pay me my money?" His attention was back to my face, his mouth opened to reveal dentures that had turned a coffee colour from his constant chewing of kola nut; it was a wonder that some ladies still found him attractive after seeing those teeth.

"End of this month," I nearly barked out at him. It was disconcerting the way his eyes darted between my crotch and chest area, tongue licking cracked lips before offering a crookedly suggestive smile.

He said nothing, only nodding and when he winked at me, I had to bite down hard on my tongue to keep from throwing up.

When his perverted self departed the room, I rested my head on the door. The end of the month was just two weeks away and the people who made promises were yet to return my calls. I had already stalled for a month but now, it was time to face reality.

Repeatedly banging my head against the door, I let my thoughts wander to all the alternatives I had and the amount left in my bank account. One option stood out the most, a business card hidden under the pile of clothes in my travel bag.

Soft palms wrapped around my ankles, drawing me out of my trance; I looked down to see Emma clinging to my feet and Esther watching us with narrowed eyes. She was too perceptive for her age, sometimes asking the most uncomfortable questions.

"Sorry," Emma's lips were set in a pout, there was no way I could stay mad at him with that glassy eyes he blinked at me. From the scowl on Esther's face, you could tell she had given him a piece of her mind.

"But you say lying is bad, our Sunday school teacher says it too."

"I know, but sometimes it is needed." I crouched to his height, opening up my hands for him to embrace me.

"She say liars will go to hellfire," he buried his head into the crook of my neck, mumbling words into my skin. "I want to go to heaven so I'll see daddy."

Joseph Asare.

If life after death did exist, then he wasn't in the paradise Emma's teacher always told him about, maybe purgatory but not heaven.

"You did the right thing," I muttered. I didn't want to speak ill of the dead nor ruin the perfect image of his father we had created over the years. Carrying him on my back, I lifted myself up, feeling overwhelmed with the events of this morning.

"Is everything okay?" Esther asked, her hand reaching for mine. I offered her a nod, all three of us heading to the kitchen to prepare a small family-sized breakfast.

* * *

"I wish you will just leave this ugly house," Faith whispered; the tail comb she was using to part a sleeping Esther's hair into smaller sections pointed at me.

"You know why," I responded.

In some parts of Calabar, the Landlords were adamant about renting out their houses to single ladies; they were of the notion that unmarried ladies of age 26 and above who chose not to live with their parents anymore were wayward. Visitors register, a curfew of 10 pm were among the long list of criteria that needed to be satisfied before they leased their apartments.

And in cases of women like me with a family but no husband to show, the stakes were higher. Baba Eddy was one of the few landlords who didn't care for any of that and still charged a decent amount. It was enough to brush off his advances towards me, the unsteady power supply and the location of the house.

"Have you spoken to Umoh?"

"No." My reply was met with a disapproving scowl.

Faith, just like her name, was the most positive person you could ever meet. She was the best friend every female needed - thoughtful, sweet, caring and supportive but somehow she didn't like Umoh, my boyfriend of six months.

"You already know what I'll tell you," which was for us to breakup, one she had been agitating for since she found out we were together. "That guy is just a leech but what do I know?"

She paused to tuck in the end of the cornrows, "what will you do?"

I raised a crumpled flyer up, watching as her eyes widened when it landed on the club's name and highlights. I shushed her up before she got a chance to speak, reminding her that she still had a child's head on her laps.

Rolling her eyes, she gently shook Esther awake. "Esther darling, we are all done."

Esther's eyes slowly opened, her initial confusion dissipating when she took in the familiar faces.

"Use this one and buy biscuit for you and your brother," she dipped a hand into the pocket of her jumpsuit, one of the many dresses I made for her, bringing out a ₦500 note which she handed to Esther.

"You are spoiling these children," I grumbled. Turning to a grinning Esther, "what are you supposed to say?"

"Thank you, Aunty Faith." Her arms briefly wrapped around Faith's neck before bouncing out of the room.

"Utianle!" I winced at the use of my full name, mentally preparing myself for the lashing that was sure to follow. "What's going on in that bald head of yours?"

Our gazes met and we both burst out in laughter. One, she still wasn't over the fact that I chopped off my supposedly long hair. Two, she failed to achieve that stern voice she was going for.

"Fashion week is in a month's time and the house rent already expired; I'm tired of asking for help." I held a palm up to keep her from talking, motioning to the flyer in her hand, "I contacted them and they are still hiring."

The annual Lagos fashion week was around the corner and Vincent, my fashion school owner had given us the chance to make outfits for some of his celebrity clients. A deduction from my travelling budget would see my dream of celebrity stylist going up in flames.

Faith's shoulder slumped but a defeated smile remained plastered on her lips. "Fine, I don't like it but I will support you. If you do change your mind, I can loan you the money."

I shook my head in the negative, she had done more than enough.

"Come and show me how you will shake this your tiny bumbum on that big stage," she muttered in an attempt to lift the mood.

Standing up from the stool I was previously seated on, I placed both arms on my thighs, bending down to perform an exaggerated twerk. Her laughter spurred me on, a gentle reminder that if stripping failed me, she wouldn't.

*****

In 2018, BBC Africa conducted interviews for single Nigeria ladies who battled with the issues of renting houses and the responses were quite chilling. You could look it up if you want.

What's the oddest job you ever did to survive?

Media: Utianle