MAN IN THE HOOD: How ‘mama fua’ ruined my relationship

I met a perfect girl recently, in church. Yes! Remember when I mentioned that I won’t rest until I got a ravishing, church-going lady? Well, I did.

When Etemesi sets out to do something, he does it. Pardon me. I always can’t resist the inclination of doing a humble brag from time to time.

It happened so smoothly. The lady came in late and sat right next to me. She didn’t have a hymn book so I shared the one I had been given by the ushers with her.

My goodness, she could sing and clap. She belted out the notes like a Grammy winner as swells of splendour kept rising up her throat. I couldn’t stop staring at her as her palms kept engaging and disengaging to create a delightful sound.

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

Whenever the singing stopped, we would talk in whispers. Nothing felt forced or difficult. The chemistry was just right, and after church, we exchanged contacts. It was love at first sight.

Her name was Magdalene. Ever heard a girl with the name Magdalene? I bet you haven’t.

When a girl is called Magdalene, you can have no doubt that she is flawless in character. And just like her namesake in the Bible, this Magdalene was flawless.

Things moved very quickly. She came to visit me just two days after we met and on that very day, she cooked, cleaned and washed my clothes. I was totally impressed.

I asked her to be my girlfriend that evening. She said ‘yes’. I felt like a man who had just proposed in the Bay of Kotor in Montenegro.

Since we lived in the same hood, my house ended up becoming her house. She would show up whenever she felt like and we would have unforgettable moments together.

To me, bad luck has always been like the villain Jason in the movie Friday The 13th. Bad luck has always haunted me for as long as I can remember.

However, this time, I finally felt like I had been kissed by the gods. Life was finally good to me.

LAZY

Our fairly young relationship was blossoming magnificently until this past Friday when things went south.

Magdalene had travelled to her rural home for an urgent family matter. I realised that all my clothes were dirty and since I had already gotten used to someone else washing them for me, I didn’t feel like doing the laundry myself.

I called Mama Tonny who works as a mama fua to come and do the laundry for me. You obviously know mama fuas - the women hired to do laundry for bachelors and slay queens who don’t want to spoil their nails.

Before Magdalene showed up, I used to do my own laundry but once in a while—especially when the salary checked in--I would call Mama Tonny. I am one of those guys who get too excited when money checks in.

I can even take an Uber from Archives to Railways on the day I’ve been paid. I only start being careful with my spending like two days after I’ve gotten the money.

This time though, it wasn’t because I was loaded but because I felt lazy to do the washing. And I also didn’t want Magdalene to come back from ocha and find too many dirty clothes.

Mama Tonny came early in the morning before I left for work. I told her to leave the keys with my pal Timo once she was done.

GOOD REPUTATION

Mama Tonny is a God-fearing woman who sings Mercy Masika and Christina Shusho songs loudly while doing her work so I am never worried that she might steal anything.

She also has a good reputation in the hood due to her sterling work. She is the Serena Williams of her occupation.

Normally, she does the washing, locks the house and leaves. Then in the afternoon, she comes back, picks the clothes from the hanging line before placing them in a basin and leaving them outside my door.

In the evening, I came back and found the clothes neatly placed in the basin. I unlocked the door and before I had even settled, I got a call. It was Magdalene.

“Hey babe, are you around? I’ve just gotten back,” she said joyfully.

I was super happy. I had missed her dearly so I told her to come over.

When she arrived, she saw the clothes on the basin and immediately made herself busy by folding them. What a woman!

“You decided to wash this time?” she asked.

“Yes”, I responded. I had taken all the credit. I wanted her to see me as a responsible man.

“I like that…thanks for making work easier for me” she lauded me.

I smiled and went to the bedroom to change. Before I had even put on another shirt, I heard her calling me from the sitting room. I walked back slowly and when I arrived, I found her holding a brassiere in her hand.

“Whose is this? Are you cheating on me? After how nice I’ve been to you? I’ve been away for just a few days and you are already cheating?”

I was appalled. I honestly didn’t know who the brassiere belonged to. I hadn’t cheated. Apparently, she had found it in the basin with the rest of the clothes.

IMAGINARY CONCUBINE

I did some quick thinking and figured that Mama Tonny must have taken a neighbour’s brassiere from the hanging line by mistake and put it together with my clothes.

The problem was I had already lied to Magdalene that I washed the clothes myself. All my elucidations were in vain.

I tried confessing that I hadn’t actually washed the clothes myself and all this was the mama fua’s fault. She didn’t believe it. Her conclusion was that my imaginary concubine had done the washing and forgotten her brassiere in my house.

Magdalene stormed out of my house in tears. I begged her to come back but she didn’t. She refused to pick any of my calls. The next day, she sent me a text.

“Sorry, I can no longer continue with this relationship. Cheating is an unforgivable offence for me. Goodbye.” Oh God!

On Sunday, I galloped to church so that I could meet Magdalene and do some supplementary explaining. She didn’t show up.

I made my way to the ploti where she resides but the watchman wouldn’t let me in. Apparently, she instructed him to deny me entry.

I even tried bribing him, first with a rwabe (200 bob), then a punch (500 bob) but he still wouldn’t let me. He was as brutish as the bouncer of a CBD night club. Aren’t guys supposed to have each other’s backs?

Sadly, the owner of the brassiere hasn’t claimed it. Maybe if she did, Magdalene would believe me.

And there’s no way I can go knocking on the doors of married women while holding a brassiere and asking them “Hii ni yako?”

I am thinking there’s also no way a woman would go knocking on all of her neighbours’ doors either while asking “Umeona bra yangu?”

What will I do now? In the words of Elani, “Kwani wapi nilikosea? Nikaachwa mataa!”