Happy Wednesday, fam! Voting Day is finally here. I hope you voted. Christmas is here- as you can tell from the snow on the page and the new header image. Been doing a little tweaking to the website- I hope you like it. Because I love Christmas, we are celebrating in style with a Kenikodjo Christmas special- 7 days of Christmas! Those of you who follow us on social media have already seen this- but for those of you who haven’t, #7daysofXmas is a collection of Ghanaian Christmas stories- what Christmas used to be and what it is now. Should be fun- just keep your eyes on the website from today until 31/12. Special birthday shoutouts to Enam, Desmond and Araba Pratt!! 

Now to the business of the day…

Richard Dela Sky’s voice was booming over the dramatic Eyewitness News soundtrack.

‘This is Citi 97.3. We are bringing you a comprehensive coverage of the 2016 elections. We have Kossi Nyarko on the line from the Asutuare Area Council B Shai Osudoku Constituency.

‘Yes, Sky for the Presidential elections, we have NPP – 164, NDC – 129, PPP – 2, JOY – 1, NDP – 1, CPP – 1, Rejected 1, Total voters 298 .’

‘Thank you for the update, Kossi. Those are the provisional results from the Asutuare Area Council B Shai Osudoku Constituency. Bernard, what are your thoughts?’

‘Okay, so Sky. In 2012, the figures were different. There was a decline in the-

Edem turned off the ignition, silencing the voices of the Citi FM election team. The analysis of numbers, voter turnout, history of elections past among others made the reporting feel CNN-like. He grabbed the bag he had packed for Grams and made his way to her ward. Climbing the stairs to the third floor, he nodded at the security man who sat on that floor and knocked on Gram’s door.

He had been doing this for one week and yet the sickening feeling in his stomach didn’t go away or get any better. Grams was lying in her bed, lost in a sea of white Korle-Bu branded bed sheets, with her eyes shut. He made a mental note to bring her bed sheets from home the next time he came by. She had been here for a week. They said it was a stroke. An ischemic stroke, or something like that. If Mawuli had not found her when he did, it would have been another story.

He had prayed more in the last week than he had prayed ever since he became a Christian.

God please bring Grams back to me. Please heal her. She is all I have. 

He had made promises to God- from doubling the tithe he paid to being more active in church. Anything to get Grams back to normal. Even now, the feeling of helplessness was so overwhelming that he did the only thing that seemed to give him a semblance of peace. He clasped his hands together and bowed his head.

God- please. Restore her. Heal her. Please.

Her speech had been affected and she could not move her right hand. At least, she could still see and she smiled anytime she saw him.

He smelt Maame Esi’s perfume before she touched him.

‘Hey’

‘Hey’

‘Just came in for my night shift. I just wanted to check in with you and Grams before I started my rounds.’

‘Thanks.’

They both turned to look at Grams because she whimpered.

‘Is she in pain?’

‘I don’t think so. It might just be a  dream.’

He nodded and looked down at his hands. These days, the tears seemed to come to him more naturally than they used to.He blinked and faked a yawn so that he could use his hand to brush his eyelids.

‘It’s okay to cry, Edem.’

‘I can’t allow myself to wallow in pity. It is not good for her to see me like this.’

‘Bottling it up doesn’t help. Edem, trust me. She is going to be fine. She has more than enough love and support from you and the boys. That is all you need as a patient- well, apart from your drugs.’

Edem kept his eyes fixed on Grams’ feet. He could not see her toes because they were covered with the Korle Bu bedsheet but he knew they were painted red because ‘a lady’s step must be dainty and her toes painted red’. Grams always had her own quotes for everything.

‘Okay, let’s try to cheer you up. Tell me about your favourite things about Grams. I have always wanted to meet her. It is unfortunate that we are meeting under these circumstances but please, tell me about her.’

‘So when I was a kid, I was afraid of falling asleep. I was afraid that I would wake up and Grams would also be gone like my parents. I used to fight sleep. I could get hurt just so the pain would keep me awake. Grams would make me a warm cup of Milo and either sing or read to me. Sleep always found its way to me when she did that.’

‘Awww, what songs did she like to sing?’

‘Hymns, mostly. My favourite was Father, I know that all my life is portioned out for me.’

‘I know that one. Want to sing it to her for a change?’

Edem smiled and shook his head.

‘I have a horrible voice.’

‘I am sure Grams wouldn’t mind. In fact the croakier, the better. It would make her happy. Come on.’

Reluctantly, he started singing with her.

Father, I know that all my life is portioned out for me,

and the changes that are sure to come, I do not fear to see.

But I ask thee for a present mind intent on pleasing Thee.

Of course, her voice was perfect.

This was Dr Maame Esi Osam we are talking about.

Earlier that afternoon..

Rev Quaye’s eyes darted between Maku and Robert.

‘Okay, now listen. We cannot have this session successfully if you keep going on like this.’

Robert spoke up.

‘Every day is another day that this child grows inside of her. Osofo, my point is simple- we are not ready for another child. Our marriage will not survive it.’

‘When you say that, what do you mean?’

‘First of all, I don’t even know why we are here. I was hoping that agreeing to do this would help her to see reason. Maku, I don’t know why you insist on making me look like the villain here when all I want to do is protect our marriage. Is because I mentioned the word abortion?’

‘Robert, it is not just a word. You want us to kill our child.’

‘I know how callous this sounds, but it is just an embryo. Think about it- what is going to happen if this marriage starts to go down the drain after the child is born? Will you then begin to resent the child? I know you think I am being selfish but I am thinking about both of us. I don’t want to put your health and self-image at risk again. I don’t want to put our marriage at risk again. I am not saying that we should never have children again. I am just saying that we are not ready for another child yet. When was the last time we did anything together? When was the last time you were the old Maku, the one who was confident and sexy and full of life? When was the last time you had time to just relax?’

‘It is not just an embryo. It is our child. It has a heart now. A heart that beats. Robert, children are supposed to be a gift from God. Even if we didn’t plan for a kid, we should embrace it and work towards this together. As for not having time, it is not my fault that I work in a bank and your working on your own leaves you with more time on your hands. Even with that, I would expect you to help me a lot more with our son and the house, but no, you would rather sit there and demand that I feed you, clean our house, put our son to bed and come and pleasure you in bed.’

‘Oh, we are going to go there, aren’t we? You think I don’t know that you deliberately waste time so that I won’t touch you at night? You wait until I am asleep before you slip under the sheets. Do you know what sex starvation can do to a man? I am just  a normal guy who has an appropriate expectation that his desire and need for sexual intimacy be met with the woman he married and loves.It has taken every fibre of self restraint in me to keep me from sleeping with another woman. Not even one blow job, Maku, not one. I am also sacrificing. Don’t make this your pity party.’

Rev Quaye was speechless. He was not used to such graphic language in his counselling sessions. His congregants were usually economic with the truth but Maku and Robert were flying words like blow jobs, masturbation and other ‘unholy’ words across the room. He was against abortion simply because ‘Thou shall not kill’ but he could also see  where Robert was coming from.

He cleared his throat.

‘Maku, wives are to submit to their husbands. That is no way to talk to your husband, especially in front of a third party-‘

‘Rev Quaye, husbands are supposed to love their wives like Christ loved the church. Not to suggest that they kill the children God has given them in their womb.’

‘I was coming to that.’

Robert held his hands up.

‘Maku, if after everything I have said, all you have heard is that I am thinking about my libido, then I have nothing else to say. Do as you please. Keep the baby if you want to. I won’t divorce you but I am no longer obligated to keep these vows, because you are clearly not interested in keeping them either. Osofo, thank you for your time.’

‘There he goes again, walking away when things don’t go his way.’

‘Maku, I won’t argue with you any longer. Do what you want to do. Just don’t expect me to come along for the ride.’

Robert walked out of the church office, the clicking of his Italian shoes echoing in the hallway. Maku looked at the ceiling as though she was expecting something to descend from heaven with a solution. Rev Quaye just looked at the picture of his wife sitting on his desk.

Thank goodness that Faustie and I didn’t have this problem. 6 boys and counting.

Yes, Faustie had become flabby and the last time they had had sex was on his birthday, three years ago, but who was counting?

Akwasi punched in the number and Joseph picked up almost immediately.

‘Oh nice. I knew you would be awake with me. Everything cool? Team No Abaaaba se!’

‘Ah, is that why you called me? Mtchew! I go hang up ridee. It’s been a rough week.’

‘Oh what that? I dey order some things from Amazon wey I no want bed. That be why.’

‘Oh okay? Why, where is Dr Wifey?’

‘She is on night duty.’

‘She dey there plus Edem eh?’

‘Yeah’

That was the real reason why he was calling Joseph instead of Edem.

For the first time in his life, he was worried about losing a girl- to his best friend.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Edem or Maame Esi.

It was the fact that he had always felt like Edem was somehow more superior to him in many ways. He had a great job, he was kind, sweet and responsible. It was easy to feel safe around him. He was every girl’s ideal guy.

Well, not every girl.

Every good girl.

Girls like Maame Esi.

He knew that their running into each other could make anything possible and yet he was trying so hard not to be paranoid. Instead, he was going to troll on Twitter and worry people like Joseph.

Joseph was not in the mood for jokes.

They had told him that election night would be nerve-wrecking but they had not told him it would be this nerve-wrecking.

They weren’t winning. They weren’t losing either.

Chale the Twitter trolls, see what they are already doing to Nduom. If we lose, I have to deactivate my account.

For the first time ever since he joined the NDC campaign, he was afraid. He didn’t have a backup plan. He had put all his eggs and the hen laying them into one basket. The rumours were flying- stuffed ballot box here, suspicions of rigging there, pink sheet troubles in between.

Today was the day.

Do or die.

Judgment Day.

There was no way of telling what the final verdict was going to be.

Ordinarily by now he would have been fast asleep, his left leg up against the wall, snoring snores worthy of 65 year old men.

Not tonight.

Tonight, sleep was for the weak.

See you next week!

Happy Wednesday! How is everyone doing? This week’s episode is dedicated to Naa Awula and Sarah Christian for getting married, and Nuerki A-B, just because you are awesome. May God bless your marriages! Birthday shoutouts to Dionne, Kwor First Lady,  Harry and Anna Lisa! December is finally here! I love Christmas and I can’t wait for the election to be over so that we can fully enjoy the birth of Christ. Allow me to give you heads up- next week’s episode will delay quite a bit because we need to capture the election in the story. It will be epic- I can just sense it. 

Happy reading, guys! Don’t forget to let me know what you think on social media with the hashtag #8to5. 

‘Add a little curry to the eggs before you fry it. It will give the omelette an interesting flavour.’

For all her mother’s flaws, she was a fantastic cook. Cooking together was the only thing they seemed to be able to do without fighting- about Dad or these days, Akwasi. In the kitchen, all arguments were put on hold. They worked in perfect harmony, with synchronized movements like surgeons performing a complicated surgery.

Maame Esi smiled and did what she had been told to do. She lifted the cover of the pan her angwamo* was sitting in. The smells of the salted beef, onions and green peas hit her.

‘Your patients should see you now- eating ‘oil rice’ with beef and eggs and corned beef. Cause of death: Cholesterol. ‘

‘I think they would be more surprised to discover that my no nonsense mother, the Almighty Dr Osam, is giving me tips on how to make the meal more delicious.’

‘Well, I can’t have substandard food coming out of my kitchen, can I?’

Maame Esi laughed.

Her mother treated her kitchen like a shrine. She cleaned it religiously. Nothing stayed in her sink for more than 10 minutes. She called it ‘clean as you cook.’ The chopping board was washed and rinsed seconds after chopping the cloves of garlic, the counter wiped after every 20 minutes. Every evening, she cleaned her stove with warm water and soap. If someone told you that her stove was about 7 years old, you would not have believed it. It looked like it was only a month old; the chrome still sparkled like it had just been brought home from the store.

‘This way, you don’t have the burden of cleaning the kitchen when you are done cooking.’

Today, cooking was helping Maame Esi keep her mind off that conversation- the one she had had with Edem.

There was something about the way he had said ‘someone like you’ the other day. He was passionate about it, a little too passionate, to be honest. She also saw him searching her face for a reaction but she had had many years of practice concealing her facial reactions from people. It was one of the things that made her a good doctor- her ability to smile when a patient was panicking, even when she was also panicking with him.

She put a little of the shitɔ in a small frying pan to warm it a bit. Everything else was ready.

‘Let’s eat.’

Maku could smell the scented candles even before she turned the key in the lock. Her favourite playlist of lovey dovey songs were softly playing in the background. Bob Marley was crooning out of the speakers.

I want to give you some love
I want to give you some good, good loving
Oh I, oh I, oh I
Yeah, I want to give you some good, good loving

The house was ‘dead silent’- for a home with a child in it. Robert had either put their son to sleep already or he had sent him off to her mother’s place. He had really put in the effort. She could smell the kenkey and the chicken wings. She laughed softly. When she had texted back to say she wanted soft Ga kenkey, she knew that he would probably be frustrated because he didn’t really like kenkey.

‘Hi baby. How was work?’, he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

‘Work was okay. I am just glad we are here together though.’

‘Me too, Maku. Me too.’

Robert waited for her to eat her heart out before talking. She picked up the last chicken wing and asked him if he wanted it. He shook his head.

‘So I was hoping we could have an honest conversation about everything.’

‘Mmhm, I am all ears.’

A part of her was low key hoping that the conversation would end up in the bedroom.

It had been a really long time.

It was just 3 weeks, but for the two of them, 3 weeks was a long time.

‘I am sorry that I have been a jerk lately. You are a great woman and you don’t deserve that. Any man will be lucky to have a wife like you- boss chick slaying in the streets, sheets and everywhere she finds herself. Remember our wedding day?’

Of course she remembered. She remembered everything.

She remembered her overpriced wedding gown, the 8 tier red velvet and white chocolate cake from Dream Desserts, the embroidered towels from China, the pink dresses for the little brides, everything.

She remembered the way Robert looked at her as she walked down the aisle, as though he wanted to rip the Vera Wang wedding gown off her right before the altar. She remembered the sermon the pastor with the thick Ewe accent- ‘If you love each other, you will put each other first.’ She remembered the way her shoes were pinching her toes, how her page boy refused to sit in one place and kept running up and down the aisle. She remembered everything.

‘Yes, I remember.’

‘We promised to help each other work through everything and that is the basis of my appeal to you. You remember how our lives changed when Manuel was in your tummy. Our marriage is still suffering from that period of our lives. We are now learning to how to rebuild this marriage. Can you imagine why the news of another child is not particularly exciting?’

Maku could see where he was heading with this line of argument but she kept quiet, waiting for him to finish.

‘We need to help each other. Maku, our marriage won’t survive another child this soon, take it from me. A man has needs, so does a woman. Our needs were hijacked by the arrival of Manuel. He is a true gift but his parents have suffered. You don’t undress in front of me anymore because you have become self-conscious about how you look. You spend all your time taking care of Manuel. Maku, there is a reason why I married a Krobo woman. I needed a woman who will be open to sexual adventures. We haven’t been there for a long time. I see you also suffering. That is why I am asking you to help me. Help me keep our wedding vows’

His voice broke.

‘I think we should abort the baby. I am not saying this from a selfish point of view. I am saying it from our marriage’s point of view.

‘Have you lost your mind? How can you ask me to abort our child? How can you be so callous? This is not the man I married.’

‘Maku, you are not the woman I married either. And I am not saying that maliciously. We have changed. Another baby will change us even more drastically. Can’t you see that?’

‘All I hear you saying is ‘kill our child’. How can you be so selfish? How can you push me to choose between you and our child? Did I make this child alone? All you are thinking about is your sexual pleasure. You, you, you. What happened to us? What happened to for better, for worse?’

‘We went past worse a long time ago. We are way past worse. I need you to look at this objectively. Don’t think about this emotionally.I can’t emphasize this enough- there are three things a man needs- respect, food and sex. Not necessarily in that order. Sex is central to a man’s existence.’

‘Well, you chose the wrong time to play Mr Objective. My hormones are messing me up. I need you to be supportive, not selfish. It looks like all you want is for better, for best. Robert, it doesn’t work like that. I am not aborting this baby. If you choose to leave because of your own child, that is on your head. I will not put an innocent child’s blood on my hands for your sexual gratification.’

He looked at her for a long time. Then he picked up his car keys and walked out.

‘I am going out for a drive. Don’t stay up.’

Last days are dangerous.

His auntie had always told him that, but this election had proven it even more.

Joseph sighed inwardly.

He could already hear the boys laughing at him.

‘Ei Footsoldier of life. You have been tweeting and retweeting your heart out for the last 6 or so months. You have been defending the NDC like your life depends on it. You have never seen JDM before. He has never acknowledged you or thanked you for your service. And yet, Bugri Naabu has received a car and GH500,000! Chai! JM is doing wonders!’

He wasn’t particularly bothered about the money or the car. He didn’t really believe the rumours the NPP was peddling around. Everyone would say anything to win.

Ben Ephson’s polls had given him and the other boys some hope.

Some of the boys were already planning what to do with their ‘winning bonuses’.

He was really hoping to get a scholarship to go abroad to study in two years’ time. An NPP government wasn’t going to help him much. Rumour had it that his account and those of several NDC boys had been flagged by the NPP leadership.

The debate was happening later that evening. Even he knew two things:

• The debate will not translate into votes. People have already made up their minds as to who to vote for.
• Nduom will win the debate. JDM was in power so it was easy to point out his shortcomings, something Nduom will not hesitate to do. The other candidates were just there to fulfill democratic righteousness.

He watched one of the graphic designers putting finishing touches to the ‘Thank you Ghana’ billboard artwork. John Mahama was a confident man. He was already working on the victory publicity.

Joseph sighed again.

He was tired, so were most of the boys on the team. He was silently praying that the elections won’t end up in a run off. He didn’t have the emotional strength for another round of campaigning.

But victory was coming. Victory had better come, it had been a long road.

Edem tried to drown out the man who was presenting the report. Today wasn’t a good day for him. Everything seemed to be going wrong.

His phone kept buzzing incessantly. At first, he thought it was the boys talking about something nonfa* on the group chat. He was wrong. It was Mawuli calling him.

‘It’s Grams. She collapsed in her bedroom this morning.’

‘Which hospital? I am on my way.’

Grabbing his car keys, he picked up his briefcase and his phone charger and stormed out of the office.

Assessment or not, everything else could wait.

Grams needed him.

See you next week!

P.S: Guys, does Robert’s argument make sense? Girls, what would you do in Maku’s position?

*angwamo- rice cooked with oil

*nonfa- unimportant

Happy Wednesday, guys! You people like politics papa! Clearly Kofi Dubai got us some attention. If you can, I hope you are voting on the 7th. That is the citizen’s true power. Welcome to all my new readers and binge readers who have finally decided to catch up. I see you. 😉 Today’s episode is dedicated to the most amazing CPR, just because. 🙂 ❤

And now, on to today’s story…

What requires this much secrecy?

I never keep anything from Akwesi.

And why face to face, and not over the phone?

The questions were many.

Edem kept tossing them in his head as he turned onto the highway.

He was absentmindedly watching the crippled man who sat at the St Mary’s junction when the honking from the cars behind him jostled him back into reality.

He was meeting her at Korle Bu.

At least it was a public place.

But then again, it meant that anyone at all could see them. If the person told Akwesi, he would have to explain why he kept the meeting a secret.

But you are not doing anything wrong. Stop overthinking things. When all of this is over, we will probably have a good laugh about it and move on.

He could see her in his rearview mirror as he parked.

‘Dr Osam.’

‘Hi Edem! Thanks for coming.’

She smiled her sweet smile and leaned in to hug him.

So that is the flowery fragrance Akwasi keeps talking about. 

‘I keep telling you to call me Maame Esi. You sound like one of my patients.’

‘I am one of your patients, remember? That is how you met your Romeo.’

She laughed.

‘Sorry about the secrecy. Akwesi told me you guys were playing FIFA today. I needed to be sure that he would not see this message.’

Edem’s face had the ‘okay, I am listening’ expression. His forehead had burrowed into a quizzical look.

‘So I want to plan something nice for Akwasi. Dinner or a weekend getaway or something like that. You know him better than I know him so I am guessing you would know what is best. I also know you go through each other’s phones without asking so I needed to make sure that there were no traces.’

Edem was silently kicking himself for assuming the worst.

‘Something nice for Akwasi and it is not his birthday or anything? Woman after the man’s heart. Well, I think the getaway thing will work nicely. He likes roadtrips and stuff he can put on his Snapchat. But a whole weekend? I thought you were a church girl.’, he said with a teasing smile on his face.

‘A getaway doesn’t mean I will sleep with him, does it?’, she quipped back, with an equally mischevious smile on her face.

‘Well, my Grams has pounded this scripture in my head many times. Can a man scoop fire into his lap without his clothes being burned? – Proverbs 6:27. That applies here, doesn’t it?’

‘You are right. Your Grams sounds like an amazing woman.’

‘She is. Best woman in the world without a doubt. She has been waiting to meet the girl who has transformed Akwasi’s life.’

Maame Esi laughed again.

‘Looks like it is a date then. So we will probably go at the end of the month. Best Western, Takoradi. I will make up an excuse of needing to pick up something from my hometown or something like that. You are welcome to come along.’

‘Naah, three is a crowd.’

‘You are full of wise sayings, aren’t you? The Grams influence, I guess. You could come along with someone. Aren’t there any pretty auditor ladies in your office?’

‘Oh there are. They are just not available or not my type.’

‘We’ll work on finding you a pretty girl. You are a really awesome guy- you deserve the best.’

‘For Grams’ sake, please make sure she is Bible believing and tongue speaking. With a pretty smile. Like you.’

Edem instantly wished that he could scoop the words back into his mouth. He searched her face for a reaction but didn’t get one.

‘Right on it. We will find her. Best believe that! Thanks for coming, Edem.’

He saluted her with his right hand and drove off. When he looked in his rearview mirror, she was still standing there, waiting for him to turn the corner before heading back inside.

Unemployment.

It was like a curse.

Mawuli made it look like he had gotten used to it but he could still feel the burn from time to time.

He felt it when the boys wanted to go and have breakfast at Holiday Inn.

He felt it anytime he ran out of fuel.

He felt it anytime he had to ask Grams or Edem for money.

He felt it when he had to go to Edem’s place to use the wifi because he had run out of the Vodafone X bundle. That bundle sef- these days it lasted just 12 days. He was always dreading the ‘You have exhausted 90% of your bundle’ message.

His life was mainly ‘hand to mouth’, in Sarkodie’s words.

After National Service, most of his friends had found jobs almost immediately. He wasn’t in a hurry to go back to the 8 to 5 life, especially because he had spent most of his time at the Ministry for Foreign Affairs playing errand boy, buying atomo* and fried fish for the women in the office, picking up newspapers from the front desk and dropping them off at the offices of the various Directors. Yeah, stuff like that.

Ain’t nobody got time for that…

These days, he regretted staying at home. It felt like life was passing him by. Even some of the dumbest boys in their class back in Presec were driving nice cars and wearing silk ties. That skinny boy from Riis House even had the audacity to have a potbelly. And here he was with his iPhone 5S and a rickety Hyundai Pony.

And his ten fingers.

It wasn’t like he had not looked for a job. He had applied to every office you could think of, for all kinds of jobs- even jobs that didn’t exist. And yet he was still at home.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have money. Edem gave him a stipend of 600 cedis from his own salary every month, but he didn’t like depending on him. He wanted to be his own man. Edem was the best cousin a guy could ask for- kind, humble and reliable. That was why he always tried to be there for the guy whenever he needed him. It was the least he could do after everything the guy had done for him.

He had thought of starting his own business but he didn’t have any solid ideas yet. He didnt want to become like the guys who started a business simply because it was in vogue. Delivery. Food. Stationery. Music. He had thought of everything.

Okay, everything except makeup.

He just wanted a job- any job.

‘I just want to resign.’

Kevin scowled at the waste basket as if it was responsible for all his problems.

He was due for leave this year. After 6 months of probation and a year of working without leave, he was finally eligible for a break.

Working in a bank wasn’t as glorious as it looked on the outside.

Nice car, patterned neck ties, expensive perfume, leather shoes, a nice 2 bedroom house fully furnished. He even had the latest Samsung KU6600 TV and a brand new Beats by Dre Pill+. He was living THE LIFE.

That was what the outsider saw. This life came with long stressful working hours, restrictive dress codes, loans with great rates which were really handcuffs in disguise, no free time and other stressful banker life issues. He was really hoping for that break so that he could go to ‎São Tomé  or somewhere quiet. When he put in the request, he thought it was a done deal.

Apparently not.

Dear Kevin,

Thanks for your email. I will however not be able to grant you the leave proposed because we are understaffed at the moment. Secondly, you are only entitled to 20 days and you have asked for 27 days off.

Kindly revise.

Best,

Cecilia.

Everyone called her Abrewa Cece.

She was the pain in everyone’s neck. She was always standing at the door at 7:45, casting a judgmental glance at everyone who strolled in after 8am. She also had a look for the ladies whose skirts were too tight, or whose blouses were bursting at the bust. She was also the colour prefect, sticking to her black and white clothes and scowling at the shades of green, pink and burnt orange that the ladies tried to sneak in. She had her eye on how many leave days everyone was entitled to and she didn’t seperate compassionate leave from regular leave.

‘Ah the work, ibi your popi in own?*’

The only thing that made coming to work worthwhile was Maku.

Damn, that woman was a breath of fresh air.

And her husband was a very ungrateful man.

How he could ignore all that goodness and act as if Maku got pregnant on her own amazed him.

He looked over at her desk.

She was lost in thought again.

He loved looking at her anytime he caught her unawares.

Her smile, her haircut, her sense of fashion, her shoes, her perfume.

How could a man not be happy to have a woman like her in his life?

He who wants does not get, and he who gets does not want.

Maku’s phone buzzed.

It was Robert.

‘Hey, I know I haven’t been a great husband lately. I am sorry. You deserve better. Let’s talk tonight, okay? I will get some food and ice cream. I know you have weird cravings when you are pregnant so lemme know if anything tickles your fancy. I love you.’

Her heart was pounding.

She re-read the message three times and typed her response.

‘See you tonight. I love you too.’

Her roommates were right. When you love a man, all you need is for him to make an effort.

All is not lost.

She knew that this was Robert’s olive branch.

It made her heart swell with joy. It also made her heart hurt from the memories of the last few days. Her tear ducts started working.

These pregnancy hormones, she thought as she blinked back the tears.

She was having the most overwhelming feeling. It was a mixture of joy and pain.

Bittersweet, that’s what they call it.

See you next week!

*atomo- sweet potato

*ibi your popi in own? – is it for your father?