God had other plans

Aunty stormed into the kitchen attempting some shaky form of catwalk, maybe she saw it on TV, these women were full of filth, she pushes me aside to get to the pot, almost slipping on her five inch heels, “I wish she fell, what type of prostitute couldn’t walk on heels?” Madam was away again, God help her, she had been sick for some time. Last year after she began requesting I make her rice without salt and fry eggs without oil, I knew something was wrong, then one cold harmattan in November, she filled large black boxes with her grief and clothes, she left for India before the day was bright. Dialysis or something, at least she knows that no one could be cured in this country. My mother died from having faith in Nigerian healthcare, no, it was probably from poverty, Madam had great faith too but she also wanted answers they had those answers in white men’s lands. I can’t be sure what sort of answers or sicknesses, I wasn’t important; no one told me these things.
There is a new aunty this weekend, her skin is pale and tinged with sickness “Does Oga not see it? What potential STD’s she could be harboring?” I wonder if madam knows her husband is now a chief, he’s now surrounded with his own creative stories, a wealthy man with many concubines, his titles accrue the longer she’s away. Oga loves to live; he always fills his stomach with good things. Oga is away for most of the time and he eventually returns accompanied by different aunties, ranging in sizes and skin colors “women will be his downfall.”
With so many aunties and Madam, I should be confused, but I know better, my loyalty was to the lifeless house, madams come and go the house remained. I had served this house for sixteen years now; I’d been in it through the smell of baby poo to the aroma of the 20th anniversary celebration cake. I could tell you who went in and out. I knew all the basic truths hidden in these walls, starting with the most obvious, ignored truth: Oga is a terribly wicked man. Years ago when madam became sick she stayed up every night praying for peace, she prayed from midnight till day break asking God to send down fire on the devil possessed prostitutes. I may be stupid but at least I know Oga is God, his word in this house is what creates, he gives money and bread appears, he is however not interested in raining fire on those prostitutes, God had other plans.

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