BEFORE YOU KILL THE HOUSEMAIDS:
Every oga madam, check yourself
Last week, I saw a picture of a maid who cut the arm of the baby of her oga madam. The dead baby, may be two years old, was on the floor. A very gory sight.
On the social media, we have seen several pictures of maids brutalising the children of their oga madams. The outrage is largely against the maids. But let us tarry a while and do some introspection. Have we ever tried to hear out the maids? There is no effect without a cause. Just as workers react to governments, protesting, striking, etc asking for better conditions of service, so some of these maids. The only thing is that so many of them go too far in their ignorance of methodology of complaints. Permit me to examine this.
About two years ago, I was in a police station to get a police report for something when a lady was brought out of the cell. She sat before a police woman who gently spoke with her, bought her sumptuous meal, made her comfortable so she could open up. The lady was said to have been arrested for and had confessed to mixing her poo poo, urine, menses, phlegm (kelembe) with whatever she cooks for her oga madam. In my own words, I will report all I heard the semi-literate lady said.
'My madam can't do anything for herself. Even if she wee wee, I have to help her bring toilet roll from her bag to clean up. If I was outside washing and the bag was next to her, she prefers to come outside and call me to bring the bag.
She wakes me at 5am and I go to bed at 11pm. I am on my feet from morning till night, no rest. When I wake, I put water on fire, bath the children, prepare food for the family, wash the car, everything. When she goes to work, she would be monitoring me with a phone she bought for me but I can't make a call because it has no credit. She has a shop where I sell minerals, waters, chips, etc. If there is no sales, I have to carry the minerals on my head and sell at bus stop because she said I have to work for the money she pays me.
Whatever I cook, I dare not eat of it. She would buy all the choice meat but I only see it I can't taste of it. The children eat the best, her husband and herself but I would be served gari or leftovers. I have been in the house for three years I can count how many times I ate with meat. Even in my house I eat meat, fish. I fed well. It was the death of my mother and father in a motor accident that turned me to a house girl when there is no helper.
Madam does not talk to me or laugh. The only time she does is when there is work to do and she rains curses on me all the time for a little tardiness or mistake. If I am sent on errands, I have to trek no matter how far. Come rain come shine, I trek. She slaps regularly me when she is angry or curses me. I wash clothes from morning till night on Saturdays. The curtains, table clothes, bedsheets, everything. There is a washing machine but she would say what am i doing that she would be wasting her prepaid meter.
Madam will include her pants, bra, which i wash with my hands. Madam doesn't want to know i am tired or sick. She paid my monthly salary of N10,000 to the madam who brought me to her. Every time madam reminds me of my parents. So many nights I wept to sleep asking God to show up, cursing my parents for dying so early leaving my younger brother and I helpless in a wicked world. I was not destined to suffer but for their death.
The very day I decided to start punishing them by putting poo poo, menses, phlegm, etc inside their soup was a day I followed her to the market. I carried everything on my head for almost three hours in a hot afternoon. Ordinary water, madam didn't give me. I hinted her in the market that its like my menses had started and I need a sanitary towel. Madam gave me toilet roll to use and she has excess of sanitary towel at home. That day I wept because anytime i use toilet roll, it gives me itching and white puss will be coming out. I have been suffering this repeatedly.
That evening, I was at the bathroom and my pant was full. I remember my mother and I wept badly. That was when the idea of revenge came to my mind. I used a little water to wash the wet area of the pant in a bowl and in the night when they were asleep, i poured the water into the soup, after all, I don't eat of it. That was the first day and since then, anytime I menstruate and madam refused to give me a towel, all the blood, the puss and part of my poo poo would end up in their soup. I've done this more than fifteen times before l was caught when they keep falling sick.' yellow color wear for mother of the bride
By Bola Adewara
Follow me @bolaadewara