Diary Of A Ghanaian Househelp: E04 I AM INNOCENT!!

Dear Diary,
Today is Tuesday, 15th April and I have missed you so much. I know you are wondering why we have not had a chat in a while. Yes, I know, it has been exactly 50 days since I last made an entry into you. Hmmmm, it’s not my doing, not at all.

Things took a very sharp turn about a month ago, when Madam decided to operate a provisions shop right in front of the house. The kiosk was erected, and I hate to admit it, but it is a beautiful one. It is painted bright blue with white stripes and the insides are painted white too. You can imagine my joy when Madam told me, I would be the one in charge of the shop when she was not around! What it meant was that, I would be a miniature Madam of my own, and the awesome part was that, I would stop the donkey work I had been doing in the house (I still don’t know how I got that impossible idea in my head).

I soon realized that my responsibilities had been doubled, instead of being halved as I imagined; because in addition to taking care of the shop, I also cooked, scrubbed the bathhouse and washrooms, and washed dirty clothing. This was becoming too much for me!

I was never happy in the house anymore. I was constantly exhausted, and this soon showed in my attitude around the house. I was no longer my vibrant and vivacious self. One evening after supper, I overheard Uncle talking to Madam. “Honey, I don’t think we are being fair to the poor girl.” “What do you mean??? Don’t I feed her three times a day? Don’t I give her a place to lay her head? And I also remit that witch she calls her mother, money every month. So what do you mean by that statement?” she barked. “Baby, relax and talk to me. I am not asking for a fight. All I am saying is that her work has doubled so either we pay her double, or we find someone else to help her.” The dark silence that engulfed the living room was enough for me to know that someone was obviously not happy with the suggestion. I was straining to hear what would happen next when I heard footsteps coming towards the kitchen. Immediately, as if to dispel any suspicions whatsoever that I had heard anything at all, I started whistling a tune from my favorite song: “I surrender all.” It was Madam’s face which appeared. She wanted cold water. I quickly rinsed my hands and served her.

A few days later, I was in the shop when I felt a sudden sharp pain in my lower abdomen. Looking at the severity of the pain I knew that it was nature’s call. The last time I visited the “small room” was about 4 days back. I knew that if I stayed even a second more in the shop, I would soil myself. I rushed to the Boys’ Quarters “small room” where I settled comfortably and began “downloading” my unmentionables. Oh God! It felt like heaven! I am aware, it sounds silly but I wished I could spend eternity in that state.

I was there for just about 3 minutes when I heard my name being screamed out as if I had committed murder, by you-know-who. I jumped from my comfort, cleaned myself and rushed out to meet Madam. The sight that met me almost made me pee on myself. The shop had been cleared of about half the items that were in it before I left. Dear diary, honestly it had occurred to me to lock the place before I left but I asked myself, “How long am I going to be away?” Surely five minutes was not enough time for any evil person to even notice my absence in the shop and rob the place so thoroughly. I was wrong. Wrong at a cost of almost 350ghc. The first person who came to mind was Abaga. Surely he must be the first to be confronted, since his room was right next to the shop. I received a slap first and foremost, that was the preliminary stage, and I received it with glory. I deserved it. “Abaga!! Abaga!!” No response. But he had been at his post when I was leaving the shop? I was confused.

Before his name could be called the third time, he emerged from a very unlikely place behind one of the storerooms in the house. I immediately smelt a rat. I suspected him. As expected, he denied having any knowledge of the whole saga. All our neighbors were asked whether they had seen anything fishy going on around the time of the robbery. The response was always “no”. They all vouched for my honesty and innocence though. I wish that alone was enough to vindicate me.

The whole afternoon and pretty much of the next month, I was always reminded of my foolishness by Madam, and even Abaga. Uncle believed I was innocent. I had no way to prove my innocence. Hmmmm… my plight was very pathetic. And Abaga! The way, the idiot used to mock me about the whole issue smacked of ill-will. Just because I refused to sleep with him. Dirty fellow. The moron does not even bath until he is sent on an errand. Funny enough, he gained weight all of a sudden. Even Madam noticed. Very strange.

Yesterday, Uncle was looking for a screwdriver to fix a broken electrical socket so he entered the storeroom. Barely 2 minutes later, he stormed out of the place with two jute bags full of biscuit wrappers, empty cans of fruit juice, empty sardine tins, etc etc. As soon as I saw the loot, I began singing songs of joy. Owww! My hour of exoneration had come!

Madam came home from work to hear about the “discovery.” But contrary to my expectation, she cleared Abaga of any wrongdoing. I was the prime suspect. Last night, there was a showdown. Madam was for Abaga on the grounds that he had served them loyally for a long time, even before I came into the house. Uncle was for me because I had showed honest behavior and even the neighbors attested to that. I still think, he has feelings for me, even after his G-Sting stunt failed..

The tension is still heavy in the house as I write, and I am sure that either Abaga will be sacked or I will be sent back to my mother, depending on the turn of events. I await my fate, diary. God be my Guide.

Thank you for taking time off to read. Please share your thoughts in the comment box below.. E5 Drops soon..


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s