Image by Piyapong Saydaung from Pixabay
After a year of being at home due to the denial of admission from the university. And as a Nigerian, the only long-distance relationship that strives perfectly is the one we share with our parents (maybe not everyone, but most people). I felt I had had enough and set on a quest like the prodigal son in search of greener pasture.
My maternal aunt is a chef, a very good one, so anyone who has a taste of any delicacy prepared by her surely has a comeback for more. Fortunately, she got a new cooking contract and was recruiting new members; I got to sign up as one.
Not knowing what the job really had in store for me, though my aunt did, she kept asking repeatedly if I could make it through the strain. I responded positively being optimistic one characteristics I do not posses; going back home was not an option either, I thought to myself.
Mind you, I have never been involved in any form of hard labor throughout my life. At home, I woke up anytime it pleased me, did housework if I wanted to, sometimes my siblings had done them, had food at my disposal, and had other basic amenities.
I never really left home aside from educational purposes; this was my first time. On our arrival at the place, the management said before the contract would be sealed they needed to see our performance for a month. The place we were asked to lay was barely tidy, the journey had its own tribulations due to the distances and other ordeals we had to encounter, and getting some sleep to let go was almost impossible as the swarm of mosquitoes rejoiced that they had finally found people to feast on; nothing drives me crazy more than their noise.
Finally drifting into the world of sleep, I heard my aunt’s voice and jerked up according to her morning was here. It felt like thirty minutes ago to me; the day had just begun, and it felt like weeks already. I thought of the prodigal son, whom I was trying to emulate; at least he had his father’s gold at the beginning of the journey; I did not even have sand in exchange for gold.
Our duties started, and in the nub of my problems, I was thankful that my aunt was the CEO; she would probably go easy on me. That little story in my head did not end well; at each point, I acted sluggishly, and it was brought to her notice. She reminds me constantly that she asked me to stay back. The day starts by preparing what is being served in the morning, followed by serving the people; it continues by washing the dishes used in the morning; and the next is preparation for what is being served in the afternoon. We serve them again in the afternoon, and the same routine continues for a whole month. We never got a chance to fully rest without being called for one duty or the other. In as much as I cannot stress the volume of the work, it was really hectic.
I nag for ass out though nobody gave me listening ears. The worst part is that serving humans holds a different kind of stress due to the fact that a higher percentage of us are ingrate; they never know what the other person passes through; all we do is complain. When food is served, either complain about the thickness, the quantity, or the quality, and at every point you had to smile when apologizing for their complaint no matter how tired you were. A couple of times when I told my aunt about their behavior, her responses were, ‘If you were here, you had done worse.’ I disagreed with her because when it came to food, I am really picky, and blaming someone for not meeting my taste is something I don’t do. Being a picky eater also made my stay there horrible because I detested a lot of the food served, and I am sure I went back home leaner than the prodigal son. I went through different kinds of stress, mental, emotional physical, just for financial stress.
After a month had passed, we departed to our various homes. My whole body was aching me, my legs were swollen, and I could barely work for days. I slept for several weeks to fully come out of that state. During my stay, my aunt’s workers barely complain about the job; most times when I did, they would be like ajebutter. Getting closer to them, I found out that most of the them had been through the worst situations; some would say at least I have a roof under my head; I slept outside countless times; I listened to different stories and sometimes tear down for them, but they would always conclude with we thank God for grace.
I really learned to appreciate little things and thanked God more often because if they did how much more I, I reflected on my ways and treated people with more compassion and sensitivity because a lot of people are hurting deep down, and the highest way to help is to spread love and be kind. Anything can happen to anyone at anytime. The majority of them there lost their parents and ended up having to fill the gap. I appreciated my parents more. I got to fully adapt the phrase no place like home .Even with the whole le stress, the majority of them still returned to the job to provide financial assistance for their families while I slept on my bed in peace. (nothing dey for street abeg!!). Lastly, I did make my first money through hard work.