“The frequency of loan collection in this company is alarming!” Mrs. Ikumapayi muttered as she examined the staff loan profile.
Being her first day at work, she had already penned down a target of ten tasks to accomplish before she leaves the office. What a man can do, a woman can do better, had always been her mantra; whatever would stand in her way of proving her worth would have to go for it.
She pulled six of the staff files and began her perusal on each of their resumes. She started with the CFO, and marveled at his robust academic qualifications, laced with two professional certifications, local and international. At first, she felt a tinge of envy, but when she found out his age, her envy evaporated into the thin air.
A gentle tap at her office door brought her inspection to a halt. To her astonishment, it was the CFO!
“Madam, how was work today?” he beamed.
“I am not done with work yet,” she replied matter-of-factly,
“You’re not done? This is past seven already. You can continue Monday.”
“No way,” she retorted, “I won’t leave here till I’m done with my tasks for the day.”
“Just to inform you that our work vicinity is unsafe at night; please be careful,” he cautioned.
“Thanks for your concern,” she shoved his file aside and picked up another.
“Good night,” he waved.
“Same here,” she responded without lifting her head from her work.
The moment he left her office, she heaved a sigh of pain as something about him conjured the memories of Joshua. It has been three years since his passing, and today, the CFO just reminded her of his usual phrase, ‘please be careful.’
“If only I had been around that fateful day he embarked on the journey of no return, just to tell him, sweetheart, please be careful…” Her voice quaked, and tears made their way freely down to her cheeks.
The beeping of her phone, however, jarred her back to consciousness. It was Ekene, her daughter’s nanny. Princess was running temperature!
“Oh, my baby! please ensure you administer first aid to her. I’m leaving my office right away,” she ended the call.
“Monday is another day!” she dabbed her cheeks and picked up her handbag.
*****************************************
“Mummy loves you, Princess!” Mrs. Ikumapayi spoke to her daughter on the phone, oblivious of the vehicle horning behind her.
“Princess, my girl, be strong. Mummy would be with you very soon…”
“Woman, move this car, or you park somewhere else!” an irate motorist screamed behind her.
She waved an apology, and gave him the right of way, but the infuriated lady that sat with the driver would have none of her appeals.
“I wonder who gave you that car!” the lady sneered at Mrs. Ikumapayi.
“If you could only work harder, you too can also afford a car,” she retorted with a sense of justification. As the traffic intensified, she saw the lady alighting and marching towards her car; the look on her eyes was bizarre. She banged at her door angrily, but her companion, the driver, quickly interfered and led her back to their car. Mrs. Ikumapayi wound down a bit and heard a snippet of her rantings. ‘Leave me alone, let me show that proud woman the stuff that I am made of…”
“Good riddance!” she muttered under her breath, her eyes glued to the timer.
Forty-five solid minutes on the same spot, without any clue to when the congestion would clear off. Her phone beeped, and it was Ekene again. This time she could hear Princess’ cries in the background. The little girl had refused to eat. She composed an impromptu song for her and sent it via a voice note. Motherhood without Joshua was a huge chore for her.
Amidst the pressure to revert to her maiden name, she had resolved to maintain his name, Ikumapayi. The meaning which says, death can’t kill this one, energizes her each time she wants to give up in her pursuit.
“If the name never worked for Joshua, then it sure must work for me. Nothing will kill my dreams!” she soliloquised, and that instant, a pillow hawker shoved her merchandise towards her slightly opened window.
“Madam, buy my pillow,” the teenage hawker offered.
“Pillow, for what?”
“Madam, dis traffic e tie wrapper wella!” the hawker lamented in pidgin English.
“Madam, you need that pillow because we’re all grounded here tonight,” a commercial bus Driver corroborated.
“Some trucks have blocked the entire road,” a young man who had gone to survey the traffic situation returned to his car with a pack of food and a bottle of water.
“I have already conditioned my mind tonight,” the man continued as he went back to his car and sat with both legs stretched out of his car as though in the comfort of his room; then he began devouring his meal. “There is no city like Lasgidi!”
Mrs. Ikumapayi examined her fuel gauge, and her anxiety heightened. The awful traffic congestion was increasingly consuming the fifteen thousand Naira fuel she had bought that morning like a voracious dog.
Suddenly, she heard her heart made an unsolicited rhythm; the sound was akin to the Egungun beat in her hometown. Then the words of the CFO filtered into her mind: our work vicinity is usually not safe
at night.
“Then like a bolt out of the blue, one young man on dreads, clad in faded jeans over a black T-Shirt, emerged and stretched his hand towards her through the window.
“Madam, show me some love!” he said in a husky voice.
