Chapter 4: Survive First, Complain Later

I no know how to go back house, so I gree say na maid I go be.

Every night, as I lie for mat, I dey look window, dey whisper small prayer before sleep, dey ask God when I go see home again. But na so my spirit tell me, survive first, complain later.

Just like my last life, I turn beast of burden, do every work well: sweep compound, boil water, light firewood, fetch water from borehole, feed fowl—anything wey dem give me, I do am, day by day.

My hand strong from early morning. Before cock crow, I don start to sweep, even the old broom dey salute me. I dey learn how to boil water with firewood, how to pack chicken poo. Any work, na so I dey do am with quiet face.

I dey try console myself: compared to my modern life of making plans, Excel, data analysis, and PowerPoint, this one na just another style of work. Whether na office or as maid, na same beast of burden we be.

I dey always laugh inside. For city, dem dey form big girl, dey run shift, dey talk office politics. Here, na broom and fire dey judge your life. Na beast of burden level, no difference, just different uniform.

But I know say, for that time, even if labour law no dey protect me, at least civil code dey.

For my old world, if you sue oga, fit get compensation. For here, who you wan sue? Even your shadow go run leave you.

Citizen right na sacred thing. But here, my oga fit kill me like say na chicken.

If person misbehave, na shallow grave go answer am. Sometimes, servant just disappear, and everybody go pretend say nothing happen. I dey always keep my head low, dey pray make my matter no reach that level.