For me, there were only three phases of life;
- Birth,
- Blood of Jesus, what the hell is this?,
- Death.
It was dreadfully obvious at that moment that I was in my "Blood of Jesus, what the hell is this?" Era. Everything was exceedingly difficult, including inhaling and exhaling the free air.
"Job hunting is not easy at all" my mum said that and I solemnly concur, but then;
"The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers." - M. Scott Peck
An eighteen year old roaming the streets of the city in search of a job with an empty CV- an incomplete primary and no tertiary education certificate. My only talents were killing , stealing and prostitution; and of course I already threw all those out, through my window of genuine change. They say redemption is never late, right?
I prayed to God- I asked him to bring me some sort of peace. I figured living life without the presence of God is like giving legal consent to premium shege (problem) and it's minions to take total charge of your life. He answered me, yes he did!
After four months of job hunting, I finally got two; one as a restaurant waiter and the other as a supermarket attendant. I worked shifts for both, so there was no way their resumption or closing times would collide.
The new jobs weren't as easy as my previous one which earned me the combination of both my salaries in a day without even stressing so much. I lacked sleep and also didn't have the time for self-maintenance; but for the first time in my life, I felt like I was doing something clean, something right... finally, I was able to attach some value to my worth.
MONTHS LATER
Getting a legit job in the same city you screwed up in isn't so much of a brilliant idea. Most of the customers at the restaurant recognized me as the prostitute who stood at the entrance of Brown Wood hotel every night.
"The restaurant has lost a lot of customers on your employment here, some left because they were scared of getting contaminated with HIV/AIDS" said the manager on one of his pep talk sessions with me.
"Do you have HIV?" He further asked
"No ooo, God forbid sir. I don't" I responded at the verge of tearing up.
"So why do they think you do?" He further asked.
"Sir, it's my past. I am so ashamed of who I was.
I used to be a prostitute, I don't blame them for thinking I have AIDS- but I don't sir, I can go run lab tests sir" I said, ploughing my hand through my synthetic wig.
I was pardoned or can I say on a probation; until... six months later;
"Excuse me miss" a customer from the restaurant called out to me.
"Good day ma. What can I help you with?
We have the breakfast menu on each table Ma'am" I responded politely.
"My husband" she said in a voice deep enough to have come out like a drum.
"Sorry, we don't have that on the menu. Check somewhere else" I responded, forcing a professional smile as I attempted to take my leave in a hurry.
"Yes, you do. At the tip of your fingers, that's where he is" she yelled before pouring her freshly brewed coffee she had ordered earlier on me.
"I am Mrs. Walton, stay away from my husband" she concluded.
"stay away from my husband" her voice replayed in my head like a recording as I walked slowly towards the direction of the restroom in an inexplicable manner. This was double trouble!
I wouldn't say I was confused; because I wasn't. I knew who Mr. Walton was, but the question was- why now?
Mr. Walton was an old time client of mine, he was a business tycoon who booked for my services at a high cost; from his payments and referrals, I was able to rent my own place and sort for my basic needs before I even got to meet Ekene Agu. I hadn't met with Mr. Walton for about two or three years...so yeah, why now?
The drama displayed at the center of the restaurant hall drew the attention of every customer and staff, including the manger who had just summoned me with a hand gesture.
"I have helped you enough, I can't anymore.
Please get a job elsewhere or you can hide for a while until your past is off the hook" the manger said
"Off the hook?" I asked while laughing and crying like a mediocre
"And for how long will I hide?
I know I've done the most unthinkable things...my mother might hate me, my dad would be disappointed and my friends; embarrassed of my existence.
One thing I know for sure is- am not the only one who lost their way while trying to figure things out, am not the only one who's won her shirt inside out...am not the only one who has stolen meat from a pot.
Can I not be forgiven? Or rather, can't my imperfections be ignored?" I yelled in anger, crying over a jar of milk that was already spilled.
I left for home, and without pulling off my clothes or shoes I got in the shower, picked my soap from its plate and grabbed my sponge. I scrubbed my self for an hour...or more; I scrubbed and cried, hoping I could wash away my sins. Delusional, right? At least, I still had the supermarket job.
CHAPTER END.
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