Laila's story.

“I heard that the JAMB results are out, what did you score?” Mrs. Olu asked the young girl.

“I didn’t write JAMB this year Ma, I’m preparing for next year.” Laila replied. She was in a hurry, the heavy basin of fermented cassava she was carrying on her head was dripping and really smelly.

“You mean your mother did not deem it fit to register you for JAMB right. How so easily we forget.” Mrs. Olu said quite sad.

Mrs. Olu was the neighbourhood gossip. She knew what was best for everyone and she never hesitated to say it. Laila knew Mrs. Olu had a soft spot for her but wisdom demanded that she kept the distance safe.

Laila was a child of promise but circumstances were harsh and unfair to her. She was born with the proverbial silver spoon. Her father was the youngest Group Managing Director of National Gas Company. The cute and compact family graced every inspirational magazine in the country and everything was rosy, till the plane crash.

An unfortunately painful plane crash claimed the life of both her parents. That was the end of the fairy tale for her, reality set in. She was taken in by her kind uncle and his cheerful wife to live with their own children, three girls. She had lost her parents but had gained three sisters. That consoled her.

Things were however not to be rosy. Her Uncle’s wife treated her like a slave and the Uncle kept his calm ‘for peace to reign’. She was the youngest and so she did chores in the house as she had to be taught respect and family culture. Laila would be seen outside at night washing clothes or doing some strange duty.

While her ‘elder sisters’ went to the best and most expensive schools around, Laila was enrolled in the shabby Government Secondary School in the neighbourhood and had to rush home after school to complete chores for everyone in the household. She became a Cinderella of sorts only without a Prince.

Laila was overshadowed by her ‘sisters’ in every way. They were beautiful, intelligent and pampered, quite like princesses. She on the other hand had to struggle with her academics as with every other thing.

Laila considered herself lucky to be part of that family. Things had not always been hard. When she first came to live with the family, she was treated as one of the fold, till the airline insurance and office benefits were paid. That was when the respect and cultural training started. She was lucky to be alive her Aunt Zee drummed into her ears, Her parents had no concerns of decisions and choices where there were.

It even was quite fair and kind of her Aunt to decide not to shackle her with the burden of passing the JAMB examinations, she had enough duties to attend to, more than enough.

But the days got very long as days turned to months and into years. With school and classes out of the way, she was done with chores by 10am and had to find something to do to keep her sane.

She had gifted fingers, she could make hair. She used to make her sister's hair. She asked her neighbour Mrs. Bello who had a salon to take her in as a worker in any capacity, Mrs. Olu put in a good word for her and she was taken as a junior stylist. It might have been because no one wanted to be on the wrong side of Mrs. Olu’s gossip or because Mrs. Bello felt bad for the poor girl, either way, Laila was happy for the opportunity. Her aunt was happy because she could afford to buy little thing for the home and the issue of University for Laila was fast becoming history.

Mrs. Bello took a liking to her for no job was too small for her to do. She would sweep and arrange the place even though she was a junior stylist. She even managed the manicure and pedicure department, clients said that she was the only one who had the combination of patience and the touch of God. That was how Monu came into the picture.

A returning client Jessica came to the salon to make a million braids for her wedding and she came with her brother.

“I’ll treat you Monu,” she said, “let Laila give you a mani-pedi.”

“What’s a mani pedi? It sounds emasculating, I’ll pass.” The hunk replied.

Everyone threw in a word about how a mani-pedi from Laila was really a treat from God as she had the skill and patience of an angel, Monu decided to give it a try.

There was something about the girl that struck him, apart from the fact that his feet felt like heaven throughout the entire process and an embarrassing amount of roughage and scales or whatever Jessica called them left his feet. She was unforgettable in a deep and crazy way.

He started coming around more frequently. He got to talk to her and her grateful and optimistic approach to life had him inspired. He got a job in the National Gas Company two months after the mani-pedi, she was his good luck charm.

Laila felt some sort of connection with Monu after he joined the National Gas Company. It was simple, he reminded her of lost love, of laughter and a beautiful life. He reminded her of her parents and so she withdrew but Monu grew more adamant.

One day, Monu came to walk her home after work. He was all pensive and serious. He took a long lonely path.

            “My heart knew a new kind of peace when I met you. You know I am madly in love with you Laila.” He said.

She laughed nervously for she did not know what to say. He went down on one knee and popped the ring.

            “Marry me Laila, make my life complete.” He said, his eyes shut.

He opened his eyes to see Laila hurrying away. He had to get up and run after her. “Come on Laila baby. That was really anticlimactic.”

 “I just turned 20. You want my Aunt to kill me and my Uncle to have a cardiac arrest.” She said as she hurried away. “None of my elder sisters is married, which mouth will I use to tell my family that I want to get married? Is that the hairdressing I am meant to be learning?” she spewed in one hurried breath.

“I love you and I know you love me too. It’s you I want to marry not your sisters or your family.” He said.

“Well, if you can get my family to hand me over to you, consider me your wife.” She said.

“That is good enough for me.” He said as he held her hand and walked quietly beside her.

Laila paid no thought to Monu and his absurd proposal till she saw he and his family show up in the house one Sunday evening. They claimed that they came to ask for her hand in marriage.

            “Laila is young! She has not even gotten into the University. I made a promise on my brother’s grave to give his daughter the same treatment I give my daughters. I have to make good that promise.” Laila’s Uncle said.

The smile of Monu’s face froze in place as he gave the old man a stern look.

After much talk and drama, Laila was called into the gathering to acknowledge the presence of her suitors. Wine exchanged hands.

To be continued...

Credits;    Ojonugwa Sapphire Abu

photo;       web