The whatever-machine for registration is bad, my credit is running out, so NEPA official had to come to my apartment to reconnect to post-paid meter just so I have electricity whilst they try to fix their registration mess.
Yesterday he waited until 7.30pm around the neighbourhood, but I was stuck in traffic till 8pm. I’ve got less than 3.0 khz left (I think), and the card isn’t supposed to run out, else yada-yada (I can’t remember the shit he said would happen if it did).
So here’s the dilemma:
Stay in darkness until Saturday when I’ll be home to let him into my house to adjust the meter OR allow him reconnect whilst my daughters are on midterm break.
It was a struggle all through the day, until I decided what should be done.
I call the kids to tell them ONE NEPA official will be coming over. Not two. If they are two men DO NOT open the gate. And whilst he is fixing the metre, I want you and your sister to stay close to the exit door. Keep the door wide open. And if he tries anything, I need you to scream as loud as you can and run out the gate.
“Yes, mummy,” they chorused.
When the official got to my gate, I spoke to him on the phone.
Oga, I have two children in there – you’ve seen them before. Those kids are all I live for. When you get into my house, do not say a word to them. Do not pass any compliments. Do not engage in discussion. Go straight to the metre box, fix it and leave immediately. Do not ask for water. Do not ask to use the toilet. Do not banter. Do not pick a call that’ll make you stay any minute longer in the presence of my children. I may look like a cute woman, but I am capable of a lot of things. Those kids are my conscience, if you as much as wink at them, I will come for you. I swear, I will come for you.”
We understood each other perfectly.
Sad that life has come to this. But I don’t care. I do what I have to do. In a crazy world of debauchery and perversion, you look after yours with a good dose of paranoia.
Today, heading to work, a few pedestrians waiting for buses that’ll never come were pleading subtly to motorists for a ride. Not too many cared to even roll down their car window. I looked away too.
You are sad that you can’t be of assistance, but what is sadness when you have to contend with daunting emotions like Fear?
What is sadness, when you could be dead with a knife to your throat, all because you helped a stranger?
Call me paranoid, but people will have to live through uncomfortable scrutiny and rejection for the sake of self-preservation.
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