A Promise From My Heart

34.

The strings of crystal beads jiggled around my bare midriff, dropping below my navel to my waist. Frustration filled me. Discontentment followed. Three days of fasting and I have lost this much weight. Why did this have to happen when I am finally growing out of my size six phase? I was almost size eight. My lips puckered at the displeasing thoughts. Why is it so hard to gain weight but easy to lose it? I huffed; my chest puffed.

Hasty fingers searched for the eye of the waist beads to loosen. As I worked on it, my mind sought the past, a time I began to wear waist beads. As insignificant as it was, it stood out amidst many other memories. Possibly because I had used my hard saved money to get it. I had purchased it with conflicted thoughts. What would my mother think of it? Would she disapprove of it? I really had no idea, bought it and wore it before I told her.

Lo and behold, she fancied it, told me she used to wear it as a young woman and loved the way it defines the waist and adorns it. She did not know why she never wore it for us as little girls but she would have loved to. There was something about waist beads that reminded me of my roots.

When the long filament came off my waist, I exhaled from the tiring chore of having to undo it. I went down on my knees before the full-length mirror, succumbing to the complains of my legs, holding the hem of my sleeveless top with my mouth. My mind wandered to an event that occurred some days ago as I wore the beads.

I made a new acquaintance, Faith, whom I met during my first community development service (CDS). We became more familiar with one another as each CDS passed and it was one of those days I knew she was a tailor. She showed me some of her works which were excellent on her small outdated android phone.

As a lover of clothes but not obsessed with fashion, I decided to try her out and hoped I won't have to go back to my old tailor who keeps disappointing me. Faith did not fail me. The style was just the same as the one I had chosen, stitched as if it was ready made, and a perfect fit. There was no need for unnecessary amendment like a large bust or tight arm. I knew I had found my tailor at last.

She hailed from a poor home and knew at a very young age that to be successful in life, she had to work harder than many privileged people and the journey would be difficult, there would be challenges but she believed she would succeed at the end even though it would take time. She would get out of poverty. Her parents could barely send her through school with five other siblings to take care of. Feeding at school was tough and she had to do minimal jobs to get money to eat. It was then the idea of learning a hand trade came to her.

She saved up during her ND one and registered into a fashion house in Ibadan for a year. She had invested time, money, and resources to her skill. With the help of YouTube and instagram, she knew what was trendy and upped her skills. She's not where she wants to be but she's better than she used to be. I could help her by actually introducing Iniobong to her. Besides, she was not ridiculously expensive like most Lagos' tailors but she knows her worth and charges for it.

Faith was open minded and was ready to learn new things especially anything that concerned her entrepreneurship flair. I had some clothes I needed to collect from her but she could not attend CDS the previous week because she had an unfinished job which was to be delivered the following day and her poor health had slowed her productivity. I had to visit her at her house. She lives in one of the impoverished neighbourhoods in Lagos. I knew better than to take my car. When I got to the junction that leads to her house, I called her and she came to pick me.

Her house was what shocked me. The exterior was not plastered talk more of painted. It kind of prepared me of what would be indoor but I was still shocked. The living room was so small, it reminded me of the size of our store at home. There was an old worn out set of chairs, the materials torn, seat fallen deep into the chair, skeleton obvious and a small centre table that spoke of years of being used, broken and fixed. The television stand was old-fashioned and the small hunchback television was a contrast to the seventy-five inches fixed to the wall in our living room.