The phone buzzes in your pocket, a familiar vibration that makes your stomach clench. You know, even before glancing at the screen, who it is. It's Auntie Rose. Auntie Rose, whose life seems to hinge on a perpetual state of 'urgent need' – a need that always translates to a transfer of funds from your bank account to hers.
You pull out your phone. Sure enough, it's Auntie Rose. The message reads, 'Darling, I'm in a fix again. My daughter needs to pay her school fees, and the deadline is tomorrow. You know how much I hate to ask, but…'
You sigh. You know the drill. Auntie Rose's 'hate to ask' always leads to a desperate plea and, inevitably, a transfer of funds. You've known Auntie Rose since you were a child. She lives in a small, unassuming house in the outskirts of Lusaka, a stark contrast to the opulent apartment you now inhabit. Yet, she always manages to spin stories that tug at your heartstrings, stories of medical emergencies, unexpected funeral costs, and sudden rent increases.
You're not heartless. You've helped Auntie Rose countless times before, and you've always felt a sense of responsibility for her well-being. After all, her late husband was your father's closest friend, a bond that has extended to you. But lately, the frequency of these 'emergencies' has become alarming. It seems like every other week, you're bailing Auntie Rose out of another financial crisis.
This time, you decide to try something different. You send a text back: 'Auntie, I'm so sorry, but I can't help you this time. I'm also struggling financially, and I need to prioritize my own bills.'
A silence greets you. You can almost feel the heat radiating from Auntie Rose's phone, the silence a silent accusation. And then, the text comes, a barrage of emojis depicting tears, broken hearts, and pleading hands. 'Darling, please don't say that! Remember what happened to your father? I was there for him like a mother, and now you're turning your back on me? You're my only hope.'
The guilt starts to gnaw at you. Auntie Rose's 'motherly' love was a little exaggerated, more like a clingy shadow than a warm embrace. But, you think, maybe this is just a genuine crisis. Maybe your refusal will make a real difference in her daughter's life.
You compose a text, your fingers hovering over the 'send' button. But then, your eye catches a notification from your bank. It's a notification for a successful transfer. You frown. You haven't transferred any money.
You check your recent transactions. There it is, a sum of money, a significant amount, transferred to… Auntie Rose. The sender is… your neighbor, a fellow tenant in your luxurious apartment building.
You laugh, a mirthless chuckle. So, you're not the only one being played by Auntie Rose. You're not the only one who cringes at the sight of her name flashing on their phone screen.
You decide to finally confront Auntie Rose. You call her, your voice laced with a newfound firmness. You tell her that you've become aware of her financial maneuvers, that you're aware of her elaborate stories and the unsuspecting victims she manipulates.
There's a stunned silence at the other end of the line. Then, a gasp. 'Darling, what are you talking about? I wouldn't do such a thing! I'm a poor widow, struggling to make ends meet.'
You can practically hear the gears turning in her mind, the script for a new sob story taking shape. But you're not having it anymore. You tell her plainly that you've discovered the truth, and you won't be taken advantage of anymore. You warn her that you'll be reporting her to the relevant authorities if she doesn't stop her schemes.
There's another silence, then a click. The line goes dead.
You sigh, a sense of relief washing over you. You've broken free from Auntie Rose's web of deception, her perpetual loop of fabricated crises. The weight of her emotional manipulation seems to lift from your shoulders.
You may have been caught in her web for a while, but now, you're finally out. The next notification from Auntie Rose might be met with a chuckle instead of a sigh. You may not save her from her financial woes, but at least you've saved yourself from another unnecessary transfer. And that, you realize, is a victory worth celebrating.
