Madam says her make-up is being ruined by sweat
…I stand here looking like a ghost from the past
…my Talcum Powder, the only make up I use
…long washed by my sweat which is falling like water falling into the Kintampo Waterfalls

Madam says she is tired
It sure must be tiring riding at the back seat
…holding nothing but a magazine
…while shouting for me to keep her son quiet
…feed him
…and change his diapers

Madam complains of money issues
She sure must have a hard life
…seeing as her husband’s big wallet
…is the one paying for their chalet
…and acting mallet to hit heads of Madam’s jealous rivals
…as she buys branded clothes, bags, shoes, hats and scarfs
…adding watches, bracelets and branded spectacles
…whenever she pleases
Why am I looking at the one out of my two dresses
…singing enslaving choruses on my body?
See the stains of defecation
…child foods
…and the tear which needs to be reworked on tonight after I wash
Funny how it is only noon

Madam complains of her first daughter’s birthday present
…which was not wrapped to her satisfaction
As she shouts on my daughter to go fetch the scissors
She who has never had a present
…and has been working to help pay her fees
…a decade plus two as her age

Madam complains of her husband’s crooked neck tie
I smile at the perfectionist she is
I just hope my husband’s trousers will not fall off
…in front of all the guests at this party
…as he climbs to fix decorations
…to showcase the only banana I have on him
I’m now regretting sacrificing a belt
…for his shirt
Better in tattered shirt than in revealing trousers
How could I be this dumb?
I’ve learnt that trousers keep secrets when their fitting are secured
I’m making a mental note to get its fitter
…when the next moon dies

Madam complains of dust blowing in from outside
Will she sack me
…when she gets to know I sleep in dust on a straw mat
…in a mud house situated near a gutter?
No way she’ll find out
Her car can’t find a road through the path
…which leads to my house
So I’ll push that worry off
…till aban works a path

Madam complains of hard palms
Buying creams which scream softness to smear
It is a good thing only her son knows the hardness of my hold
…dead callouses aggrieved and peeved
…peeling off with their wretched edges sing dirges on my palms
I’ll never shake her hand
What will become of me without my job?

How do I fix the poor screen of her television
…when I’ve never owned one?
How do I feed her Chinese food when I’ve never been to China?
I need to find a way to dodge
…her request for a pedicure
Why will I put these hard palms on her ever soft craving?
I hope madam never fixes her eyes on me
I’m sure I’m all that she hates and dislikes
…mixed with her abhorrence
But I need to clean her dirt
…so my household will survive
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © December 2, 2020

By amoafowaa

Just a simple Ghanaian trying to find the best in our society. I may be fun, I may be interesting, I may be funny, I may even be foolish or intelligent, but it is all based on the mood in which you find yourself. I believe our minds make us who we are. Know that, pain, no matter its 'unbearability', is transient. Unburden or delight yourself for a while in my writings please. And all corrections, advice and opinions are welcome. Know that you are the king, queen or royal on this blog. :)

11 replies on “HMMM”

Hmm… How tragically interesting life could be!
Someone’s troubles are the happiness and the best of life for another.

Hmmm indeed. The title speaks great volumes of the work.
Kudos, Mum Cee.

Liked by 1 person

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