Abimbola

My fingers hurt from the endless grinding.

It was going to be a whole clan of them tomorrow and my instructions were to cook to impress. I sat back on my heels and wiped my sweaty forehead with the piece of cloth tucked into my shirt. Fifteen adults, six children. I had to remember that. I have never liked to be told at the last minute. I like to think that i am orderly. I hate surprises. Especially if they mean that i will have to change my plans to fit in someone else's.

The madam is a pretty little thing with airs. He is a kind man, the man of the house. He inquires about my family back home even though he never really remembers the things i tell him.

I like children. I was the first born of eight children and i practically raised my siblings. I went to school long enough to learn to read. I read just about everything i can find and now i know many things. People do not think i know things. They assume that because i spend hours scrubbing floors and taking orders, i am stupid. I do not mind the assumption. It just means i know something they don't.

There is a lady i like. I clean her house every weekend. She is quiet but kind. She gives me more money than i ask for and she allows me to eat whatever i find in her fridge. She lives alone but she does not seem lonely. I have always wondered about that. How a woman in her late 30's could be so happy being alone. My mother would never have approved of her.

They want ground-nuts sauce tomorrow and i do not know how to grind the nuts with the fancy machine they have. For the life of me, i do not know how to use all the technology jumping at me these days. I have one child. I had her when i was 17. I had made it my life's mission to watch over her and make sure she had everything i never had.

I named her Abimbola. I read in a book that it means "The Rich One"
You see, i wanted my one child to have the life that i never did. I am not sure though that it is what she got. At least she is not cleaning anyones floors. I am sure of that. I have kept a close eye on her.

Abimbola was my life. I worked hard and even begged when i had to. She was a bright child, my Abi. She got a good job shortly after her studies and sent money home to me in the village.

One day, the money stopped. I had grown accustomed to it. Sometimes she would drive to come see me in the beautiful house she had set me up in and i would travel back to the city with her. That stopped right before the visitors with envelopes stopped coming. I took a bus to town one day to the house she lived in, there were new people in the house.

My Abimbola is in Jail. They said she stole money but i did not believe them. Well i didn't believe them until i went to visit her. She looked thin and tired but there was no sadness in her eyes. She told me to trust that she would be okay. But she didn't say to trust in God. She looked me in the eye and said "Haven't i always taken care of you mama? Trust me again, you will be cared for." I knew then that she had taken the money. She wouldn't listen to me, she would not give it back. She got angry with me and said she would rather spend a few years in jail and come out to live a life that was nothing like my pitiful one.

Two years later, she was out. She came to see me but i was not in the house she built me anymore. I started cleaning houses again shortly after i visited her. I needed the money. I do not know who lives in that house she gave me. She keeps trying to throw her stolen money at me. I do not want it. I am 48 and even if it breaks my back, i shall make my living decent.