Yellow Tales of a Nigerian Housemaid (completed)

Chapter Sixty_ Finale

It's been two weeks since I attempted to escape and I must confess, it hasn't been funny.

Mama had since been pretending like nothing happened. She has never mentioned the money she took from my trouser, neither has she asked how I got it or what I was about doing with it.

Nevertheless, it was obvious my aunts knew about my little act. I could deduce this from their poor attempt to joke at my immaturity and silly will to run away. They sometimes discussed about housemaids who had ended up in the den of ritualists while trying to escape in the past. These little stories I believed, was to discourage me from such attempts and maybe create huge fear in me.

But ironically, what they didn't realise was that those stories spurred me into action, creating an immense hunger and will to taste freedom.

Last night was a memorable one for them, Mama and her daughters didn't spare any dance steps. They ate, drank, laughed, joked, gossiped, and danced to crazy musics. I know you'd be wondering what the occasion was, well it isn't farfetched.

Aunt Agnes' husband would be home in two weeks time.

Even though I was included in the merriment by means of handing me the leftovers, I still wasn't in the mood to dance or smile. Lately, my mind has been preoccupied with numerous thoughts of escape plans, with each one I come up with having detectable loopholes.

Will I ever escape?

This morning was just like the usual. Quiet Mama, angry aunt Oby and abusive aunt Agnes. The only innocent voice I'd heard today was the cry of aunt Oby's son, whose high pitched wail had woken me earlier from sleep.

I kicked off my chores, handling each one very slowly, possibly slower than a snail. As usual it was war, but the only difference this time was I never cared as much as I used to.

I've been on the dishes since I woke up, washing and rewashing each one as though it was filled with grease. After waiting for like forever, aunt Agnes stormed into the kitchen to warm some water for her bath, that was after asking me to do it over an hour ago with no luck. It was while waiting for the kettle to whistle that she noticed the gas flames were going down drastically.

"Does this mean the gas is finished?" She asked very loudly, obviously shocked.

I was mute.

"Nneogo!" She screamed, totally aware I'd ignored her question. I didn't answer, I just turned to her.

"What happened to this gas?" She asked shooting me daggers. Her countenance depicted anger which I wasn't ready to recognise.

"I don't know" I replied shrugging."I didn't touch it, I was banned from getting closer to it" I added turning to continue my chore.

"Did you just back me? Did I give that order?"

"Sorry ma" I replied stopping and facing her again.

There was a long pause before she spoke up, breaking the awkward silence that had suddenly befalling us.

"Call Oby for me" She ordered turning to switch the gas off.

"Yes ma" I murmured and left.

Aunt Oby wasn't happy when she understood why her sister requested for her. Her anger was that the gas didn't serve long.

"12kg cylinder? Exhausted within three weeks? Is this house a restaurant or what?" She barked angry, turning the gas knob.

Mama walked into the kitchen, her left hand holding firmly her black brazier which she was mending with a needle and black thread.