Salewa woke up at mid night like she always does, looks at the old clock hanging by her wall, she can’t remember who or which is older, herself or this damned clock that somehow functions as her alarm, not because it’s an alarm, but sometime ago, her cousin Ebuka’s ball hit it while he was playing on one of those his insomniac nights.
“It was a mistake aunty” he said.
“Who even plays ball at night?” she yelled!
But his eyes really did look sorry. So she let it be and went back to bed. She thought to herself, if only she wasn’t so afraid of the dark, she would have closed her door and his stupid ball wouldn’t have come into her room. Or maybe it’s more of the fear of being alone than that of being in the dark. Whatever, the reason, she shoved her thoughts aside and went back to bed. But ever since that fateful day, her wall clock became an alarm making that funny noise every 12 mid night. It forces her to wake up and pray, mostly think, but she likes the idea of telling herself she prays at night.
She’s old, she thinks and one day she will start mal-functioning like the old clock on her wall and her door will still be wide open and her bed very large and empty. She thinks of how much she hates her job and her junior colleagues who come every day only to taunt her. She is very sure they are taunting her or why else will they not stop gisting about their husbands and their cute little babies or how happy their men make them. I mean, they know I am single and old, that is why they taunt me, she thinks. She most times channels her frustration on them, they call her a witch, she heard, she knows but she couldn’t care less…she’ll rather be a witch to them than suffer this frustration alone.
