God of the side chick

Dear God,

I just want to thank you for the wonderful gift of Darling. Since that fateful night our paths crossed—that night at the wine bar of Hotel Tropicana where he sat at the darkest corner, sipping wine and moping like the weight of the world was about to break his shoulders—I have had such whirlwind change in fortune that if I recount, night will fall, day will break. Thank you for the courage to walk up to him and offer him the gift of my company. Had I been put off by his airs and the glint of that band on his finger, I would still be stuck in the rot of last year’s poverty.

That night, he looked defeated but I had the right choice of words to speak him out of depression as he narrated the many ordeals he suffered in the hands of that witch!  I played the Good Samaritan and I talked him out of jumping over Third Mainland Bridge. I know I shall reap the rewards of this noble deed in future. At least the scandal of adultery is a hill of beans compared to the scandal of suicide and that witch! has me to be grateful for. What would her life amount to without Darling and how on earth would she have survived the scrutiny of outsiders and the spite of in-laws who would make her suffer for driving him to the brink?

That night I led him home and showed him good loving. Since then, I have become the envy of all my friends, especially Rosa my flatmate, who keeps snooping and snooping like a rat, trying to find out every move I and Darling make. (Rosa has been missing for two weeks now, but let me count my blessings first before I say a word of prayer for her). It has been good, this thing I have with Darling, except for few incidents which have brought me to my knees this morning.

But I will not forget to thank you for the progress of the house in the village. Mama and Papa can now sleep under a zinc roof for the first time in their lives. They have moved in already and like other people who have children in the city, they can parade the village in their new clothes and shoes this Xmas. Those days of being the butt of jokes in the community are gone for good. At last, you have used me to wipe the shame off their faces. It is just that Papa is too intrusive. When I came home and showed him the building plan, he started making all kinds of inquiry like a police officer: Where did you get this money from? Is it with your secretary money that you are using to build me a house? Did you win any lottery?

But I thank you for the intervention of Mama who is more forward thinking. She shut him up immediately and asked him, Are you allergic to good things? Don’t you believe in the God that answers prayers? Are you not ashamed of this thatch roof that leaks water like a sieve? My husband, are you not ashamed?

All I need now is more money to raise the fence higher and fix the iron doors and install ceiling fans and wire the house and drill a borehole because I am tired of seeing mama wobble to the stream and hearing her complain of the heartbreaking visits to the bonesetters’.

But this is where the problem is: Darling has not picked his calls for over two weeks and it must be that witch! He said he would fly from Spain to Egypt to South Africa. I have been watching the news lately on the flat screen television he bought me and I am grateful that there has not been any plane crash. What will I do if he dies? I need him safe and sound because the hassle of finding another Darling is real and these city girls are not smiling. If they get a hold of him, I’m done for good. Maybe that witch!  has poisoned him or clobbered him to death when she saw our pictures. It seems to be the recent trend: crazy witches killing off their husbands and slashing the faces of their husband’s mistresses. Haha! Let that witch!  not dare me. Let her not even cross my path. I will show her I was raised on the streets and during last year’s new yam festival I gave chase to a masquerade, undid his mask and snapped  his whip in two. I have wrestled able-bodied men to the ground and shoved sand in their mouth. Let her not dare me.

Before I forget, I commit Rosa into your hands.  Protect her wherever she is. She has been unreachable and I am concerned. The last time I saw her was the day Darling came over and offered to drop her off at the airport since he was headed in the same direction. Though it was strange of Rosa to board a flight to her village that is just three hours away from here, I said nothing because I do not want to be in the way of another person’s shine. Since then, her phone has been off.

Wait, wait. Let it not be what I am thinking. Let it not be what I am thinking.... Oh Rosa. Oh Darling.