When my wife was returning to work after maternity, we decided we needed someone to take care of the baby while we were away. Our aim was to get someone who was a mother and had experience in handling babies. We looked far and near but got nobody. When my wife’s maternity leave was almost over, we decided to bring in her cousin who had completed senior high school and was waiting for her results. We could train her and leave the baby to her care while we go to work.
Her name was Mansa. She came in a week before my wife finally resumed. Mansa was only eighteen but had the hands of a diligent woman. You look at her hands and her palm and you immediately realized how those body tools had been overused. Immediately she stepped into the house, I saw a lot of changes. She swept in the morning and scrubbed the bath every weekend, something the two of us couldn’t do often. She cooked for us and by the time we got home from work, food was ready and the baby had been bathed and put to sleep. I loved her hard-working spirit and how she managed the house in our absence and even the times when we were around.
My wife called her house owner and I called her matron. We both saw something different in her. The only problem I had with her was her innocence. She had big butts and big boobs that could even distract the Pope. You would expect her to cover up most often but no. She would wake up in the morning in a skimpy skirt and wouldn’t mind to go around the house cleaning and sweeping in those skimpy dresses. She didn’t know the problem she was causing me. How many times I had to turn away because her panty was showing or her boobs were hanging loose. At first, I ignored her, thinking my wife would draw her attention to it and correct her but my wife did nothing.
She kept walking around the house terrorizing my fantasies until one day I said in my head, “Why don’t I try her. She’s ripe and she could be tasty. Maybe, she’s wearing all those revealing dresses just to get my attention.” That night when she was asleep, I decided to sneak in and watch her. “I won’t touch her, I just want to go in there and watch her sleep.” I walked to her door, held the knob, and before I could turn to open the door, my conscience spoke to me; “Don’t be stupid. Why do you want to watch her sleep? Are you a watchman? What if she wakes up and screams rape? What would you do?” I left the doorknob and turned back to my room.
This thing continued for a very long time until I decided to take matters into my own hand. One morning while she was cleaning around in those revealing dresses, I said to her, “Herh Mansa, don’t you have any other clothes that can cover your body up and make you comfortable while working around? You keep pulling your dresses down while working, which means you’re not comfortable. Wear something different.” She only laughed and said, “I won’t wear them again.” My wife was sitting by. I thought she was going to say something to support me but she only laughed and asked, “Have you bought her any long dress to wear?”
The next day, she wore trousers and a long t-shirt. She looked funny but it was better than those skimpy ones. When my wife saw her, she started laughing at her. Is it because of what my husband said that’s why you’re wearing your Christmas dress today? Don’t mind him ooo. Feel free around here.” The next day, Mansa went back to wearing those revealing clothes again. I can only do nothing but stare and get aroused. Men and our eyes. The best thing for me was to close my eyes or look away anytime I saw her in those dresses. But for how long? Some nights, I tried sneaking into her room. I thought of it most often but lacked the courage to carry it out. I knew it was just a matter of time before I do the unthinkable.
“Prevention is always better than cure,” we learned that when we were young. I had to learn to cure my struggles before it turned into an embarrassment I would spend all my life trying to cure. One night when I was alone with my wife in the bedroom, I told her, “I saw Mansa with one of the area boys. The way they were both standing closer to each other told the story of two young people in love. That wasn’t the first time. I’ve seen her a couple of times, sometimes with men twice my age. Before we realize, she would be pregnant and her parents would accuse us of not being responsible enough. She’s been here for over a year. Let’s send her away before she brings trouble to us.” My wife got angry at once; “So why haven’t you told me this all along? That means when we are away, she brings those boys in here. No wonder foods get finish this quickly. They eat her and eat our food too. Very soon, they’ll start stealing from us. Don’t worry we would send her back.”
Looking at how my wife was angry, I had to calm her down. I told her, “No need to do this harshly. We can just send her back without making it look like she did something wrong. After all, we decided to go for her so we can also decide to send her back and say we no longer have use for her.”
It took us some time to convince her that she hasn’t done anything wrong. She cried when we told her she had to go; “PLease if I’ve done anything wrong, kindly forgive and allow me to stay. I don’t want to go back. Please don’t send me away.” She didn’t want to leave but she ought to. I wasn’t feeling right in my spirit for doing that to an innocent girl but I had to cut the hand that was causing me to sin. So one Sunday, we bought everything she needed and gave her some money and drove her to her parents. I was broken. I knew I was going to miss her, especially how she was able to put our house in order and also cook good meals. But it was better for me to prevent the shame and guilt than to cure it later and leave scars that would never fade. To date, my wife thinks we sent Mansa away because she was going after boys. She doesn’t know we did it to restore the world’s peace.
—Wisdom
