Osa was tired. Drained. Spent.
Sitting on the floor of her bare, save-for-mattress, one-room apartment, hot balls of alkaline liquid rushed to her eyes unbidden. They quickly overflowed and trailed a path through sallow flesh and sunken cheekbones to moisten lips cracked by hunger and lack of attention.
Nobody seeing the dressed-in-clean-rags scarecrow would believe that she used to be a curvaceous, head-turning size 12. Now a 6 was ill-fitting on her frame.
Why was nothing working? Her plans had failed; one after the other. Her expectations had been dashed...as if her praying and fasting were of no consequence. Now, the very things she had been afraid of were home to roost.
She used to think her faith was strong but the last two years had taken its toll. She now questioned many of the things she had once taken for granted.
The one thing she was sure of, which was her anchor and stay was that her Redeemer was alive, and in charge. Whether in this flesh she would see Him, was another conversation.
She battled to halt the train of thoughts. Spawned by the quit notice in her hand, and the hopelessness of it all, they were bound to lead to a bout of depression, if unchecked.
"Neighbour! Neighbour! Pesin dey find you o!"
Osa knew that voice. It was Nosy Nancy -- a mother of two, with no husband and visible means of income, who was the neighbourhood gossip
She dragged herself up. Wiped her face and stepped out.
A courier on motorcycle was waiting for her.
"You have a letter ma'am. Please sign here."
"From whom?"
"I don't know. All I know is we returned it undelivered last month, this month they sent it back."
Five minutes later, a scream emanated from Osa's corner of the wooden structure 10 families called home. Nancy led the response team.
Osa was dancing. In her hand was a letter having a WHO logo. It was Nancy who saw the heading: LETTER OF EMPLOYMENT.
Post a Comment