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There’s this single mother in my area who comes to our house on weekends to beg for menial jobs. She would clean for peanuts or wash clothes for next to nothing. She always looked starved, and her baby looked malnourished. So one weekend, when she came to knock on my door, I told her I didn’t have much for her to do but gave her some money and baby food for her child. She knelt and thanked me and even began to cry.
The next day, she came to say thank you. Another time, she brought the child and said, “My sister, see how well my daughter is doing. All because of you.”
I live alone, and to be honest, I need help sometimes, but I hardly trust people, especially when it comes to my space. One weekend, I called her and asked her to clean my room while I cooked. She did a marvelous job and even topped it off by washing my clothes. We sat together and ate while she shared her story about how the man who had impregnated her didn’t care about them.
We did this together for weeks. She no longer went around asking to work for people. She only worked for me. I started leaving my place in her care on some days, and by the time I returned, she had cleaned the whole house, cleaned the fridge, and arranged everything inside it. She kept my room like a hotel.
In return, I would buy her foodstuffs, baby food, and also give her money. One day, she came to tell me she was traveling to the village for a funeral. I didn’t hear from her for several weeks. She returned on Sunday evening, so on Monday, when I was leaving for work, I left the house in her care and gave her some money to buy food.
In the middle of the day, my job took me close to the house, so I decided to stop by and check on them. She was in the kitchen, and a man was seated in the hall eating mangoes. The moment he saw me, he got up to greet me, and that was when she also came out of the kitchen. I didn’t even ask her a question before she started explaining.
She said he had come with her from the village, but it was hard leaving him behind, so she asked him to come along. I asked who he was, and she answered, “My daughter’s father.” I entered the other room and saw the man’s trousers hanging there.
I asked them to leave so I could lock my door. She insisted she wasn’t done cleaning the place and asked me to give her another chance to finish. I took my keys, and they also left.
She still comes around. I give her baby food, and she goes to work for the other tenants. When it comes to love, you can’t trust anyone.
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