“What did it dug up?” I ask, fold my hand in front of my chest, looking her.
She rub her hand up and down, finding something to fix her eyes on, the floor, my face. “So, two days ago, I was going for my morning run on the Lekki-Ikoyi bridge. I was all good, running at a great pace, when right there, right in the middle of the bridge, I had an epiphany.”
“Epi— What you call it?”
She wave her hand up in the air, her eyes wide, brighting. “A moment of realization. About my wanting children and all that . . . all because of the conversation we had.” She start a laugh, change her mind, and kill it. “Am I confusing you?”
“Too much,” I say. And yourself. You are confuse of yourself too. Rich people have plenty brain problem, honest.
“I am just a little excited, that’s all,” she say. “I will head home now. Do take care of yourself, and good luck with your exams.” She start to turn around, and I know that if I let her just go like that, that I will never see her again. So before I can think of my action, I jump forward, grab her hand, hold her.
She stop, look me, my hand, my fingers crawling around her arm and squeezing. “Are you okay?”
“Sorry, ma,” I say. “Please don’t be angry.”
“What’s wrong?” she ask.
I wait for her to shout, but she don’t shout. She sound calm. Her eyes sort of melt, a question of a smile on her face. I low myself to the floor and begin to talk. “You ask me about exam,” I say as I put one hand inside my brassiere and bring out the newspaper and press it into her hand. “I don’t have any exam, but I need your help, ma. I need somebody to make reference for me.”
“Reference? For what? Oh, please stand,” she say, pulling me to my feets. “What’s in the newspaper?” She open the newspaper, read it silent, her eyes moving up and down the paper. “I see,” she say, folding the paper and giving it back to me. “A scholarship scheme for domestic workers. What a brilliant initiative. I assume Florence has nothing to do with this?”
“She will kill me if she find out about it,” I say. “But I must try and enter it.”
“What’s the urgency?” she ask.
My eyes fill up, and I press my fingers to my lips. “This is all I been wanting all my life. Please . . .” I stop talking, swallow the tears in my throat. “The final age for entering is fifteen. Please.”
She shift on her feets. “I honestly . . . don’t know you well enough to be able to stand as a guarantor—”
“Big Madam is traveling now,” I say. “So I collect my independent just like Nigeria, but my own is for just two weeks, not forever and forever. You can ask me any question, tell me to do anything, I will do it. You can know me in two weeks. I will show you my real self in the next two weeks and you can write it inside the form and tell them I am a good girl, working hard every time. Please.”
She start a smile, then change it to a short laugh. “You are the most amusing girl I have ever met in my life. Adunni, I would love to help you, but Florence and I don’t get along that well,” she say. “If she finds out I gave you a reference or acted as a guarantor—”
“She will never forever find out,” I say, eyes full of something sure. “I will keep it a secret forever and ever and ever. She is always beating me in this place. This is my chance to be free. Please,” I say again. I just want her to say yes, that she will help me. “Can you help me?”
She sigh. “I guess it’s the least I can do in exchange for how you helped me.” Before I can ask when I ever help her with anything, she say, “You need to write an essay of a thousand words in the next few weeks?”
“Yes, ma,” I say, heart beating fast.
“Let’s see.” She look the ceiling, then look me. “Ken is out this week. The articles for the month have been processed. I can probably move that meeting with the environmental agency tomorrow evening, and finish off the report on Kainji Dam a day or two late. Can I do this?”
I don’t know if she is talking to me, or talking to herself, or both me and herself together, but I wait, keep looking, keep hoping she will say yes.
“Adunni. Listen. I can free up some time this week and maybe a few more days in the next week. Since your madam is away, I could swing by in the evenings, and I could, you know, teach you a bit of English to help you prepare for the essay and brush up your speaking, and that way, I can get to know you hopefully well enough to write a pretty good reference. If you can get some time off in the evenings and—” She stop. “You look dazed.”
I daze. Very daze. “You will help me and be teaching me?” I put my hand on top my chest. “Me?”
I don’t think of whether what I am about to do is the correct thing, I just jump front, put my hand around her, and hold her tight. She smell of rich people’s sweat and something like mint leaf. She is laughing as I leave her be. She didn’t angry that I am giving her embrace, and I feel sad and happy that this rich woman didn’t push me back and spit on me like Big Madam.
“Sorry I am holding you like that,” I say. “It is giving me excitement, this teaching me better English and helping me. Will you reference me too?”
“It shouldn’t be a problem,” she say, shrug her shoulder. “No wahala at all. I’ll come by tomorrow evening. What time would work?”
“By seven, seven thirty, I am finishing all my housework.”
She wide her eyes. “You work from what time till seven?”
“I am waking up around four thirty, five, in the morning,” I say. “I am doing my work, cleaning, sweeping, washing, everything, till seven, seven thirty. But if Big Madam is in the house, then I am working till sometimes eleven or twelve in the midnight.”
“From dawn till midnight? That’s madness.” She talk in her breath, but I hear every word of it.
“See you tomorrow evening.” She wave two fingers in the air, turn herself around.
“Thank you, ma,” I say. “See you.”
At night, I sleep a good sleep. I see Khadija and Mama inside my dream. The two both of them have become a happy bird with wings of rainbow color, flying high in a sky with no cloud.
CHAPTER 33
Fact: There are over 50 million users of the internet in Nigeria. It is predicted that, by the year 2018, over 80 million Nigerians will be using the internet, placing the country in the top fifteen globally for internet usage.
Why are you locking your teeths inside iron gate?”
I ask Ms. Tia this question on the first evening that she is teaching me school. It is six fifteen, and the sun is climbing down from the sky, making the whole place have a orange glowing light. Me and her are sitting in the outside, under the palm tree, the one beside the outside tap, near the kitchen. There is no breeze, the air is stiff, the smell of the onions Kofi is peeling is in the air.