ChrisComfort is knocking on my door at exactly a minute before our scheduled 4pm meeting. Looking at her from the door’s peephole, I am immediately intimidated by the frowning elderly woman at my doorstep. A ball of sunshine she doesn’t appear to be.“Good evening, Ma'am,” I say as I open the door, my parents’ teaching of always properly greeting older people ringing in my head.“Good evening, Doctor.” she says, walking into the house, the unmistakable smell of lavender wafting in with her. By God, she actually smells like my late Grandmother.“Please, tell me about yourself,” I say when we are seated, smiling to make her more comfortable. Actually, I lie. I smile to make myself more comfortable. With the thin set of her lips and furrow of her brows, she looks so stern, I feel like I’m the one that needs to make a good impression.“I retired as a Senior Matron after thirty years at General Hospital, Lagos Island, back in Nigeria. I came to London to join my children after that. That
ChrisI am apprehensive when Lola sends me the contact information of her friend’s agent. His name is Mr. Lekan and there are all sorts of alarm bells ringing in my head as I dial his number. While one part of me likes the idea of a less expensive child minder with the added advantage of the maternal care from an older woman, I worry about the wisdom of hiring someone illegal. But it’s true what they say about beggars having no choice. Right now, after having exhausted all my other options, this is the next best thing.“Ah, we have plenty nannies. Plenty, plenty good nannies,” the Mr. Lekan raves when we talk, his feigned British accent a thin coating over his thick foreign one. “You will like them, I can promise you that. Is there any particular tribe you prefer? “Umm, no. Not really,” I answer, not having given it any thought.He chuckles. “You parents don’t understand the importance of these things. “But no problem, I have the right person for you!” he exclaims. “A nice, lovely w
AhanaI take the sheet handed to me and frown as I read it. Worcestershire Glazing. I am tempted to ask Gigs how to pronounce it but quickly decide against it, thinking that will be enough reason for him to throw us out. I glance at Camilla who is smiling as she reads the material. If she’s even a little confused, she doesn’t show it.“It’s a starting 10% commission, rising to 15% and even 20% as your sales increase,” Gigs says, leading us past rows of operators, to vacant seats on the far side of the room.While 10% isn’t exactly what I’d hoped for, it’s a better start than nothing.“Is there any other salary? Like an hourly wage?” Camilla asks.Gigs looks at her with a raised brow, and that is all the answer we get. So then, no, there will be no hourly wage. But with a 10% commission, I can live with that.“This here is Kyle,” Gigs taps a guy on a chair next to mine. “He’ll help put you through today.” Pointing at another guy sitting across Camila. “And that’s Jack. He’ll be with yo
Ahana“You have to leave the flat between 8am and 5pm?” Tayo repeats as we have tea and cake at the Costa coffee shop on campus, just as bewildered as I was when I first heard it. “What kind of job does she have that she has to be alone in the flat? Is she on OnlyFans or what?”I almost spit out my tea in my laughter, amused by the mental image of Josephine stripping for the camera to entertain online ‘fans’.“And you can’t cook there, or even have visitors?” It is Camila’s turn to retort. “Are you in a boarding house?.”“But she’s given me a roof of my head now that I need it most,” I say in Josephine’s defense. “I’m just going to have to work and save as much as I can by November, so I can get a place of my own.”Camila and Tayo exchange a look.“I hope you remember it's a maximum of twenty hours a week.” Camila says.“Yes, but at £14, £15 an hour, that will be about £300 a week, and £1,200 a month,” I answer confidently.My companions burst into laughter, and I find myself beginning
AhanaSo, George and I have a few ground rules for the flat,” Josephine says as we sit on the couch later that evening, eating takeout fish and chips. “No cooking after 7pm. We want to stay healthy, and so dinner should be before 7pm. And only use the dinning table.” I nod, trying to digest this piece of information, pun intended. No cooking. While that will be hard seeing as I eat late sometimes it’s not something I can’t live without. and although I love the comfort of a bed or sofa bed as I find myself, I will have to make do.“You also need to be out of the flat between the hours of 8am and 5pm. I work from home and need the privacy,” she shrugs. “Today was an exception because of my meeting.”I nod again, reminding myself to stay calm as I do. That also isn’t something that can’t be done. On the days I don't have early classes, I could always go to the library or something.“George is very wary of having strangers here. I had to do a whole lot of convincing for him to be comfort
ChrisI watch Muna squeal as she is chased by other children in my cousin Adam’s backyard. It is his youngest daughter’s birthday, and the kids are enjoying a pool party on this sunny afternoon in September. If the weather outlook is anything to go by, we won’t have a lot more ofthese before the cooler weather arrives. A child I recognize as April, Adam’s sister’s daughter, helps Muna into the colourful inflatable pool set up for younger children, and I smile as she giggles and splashes in the water. Looking at her, my daughter, it still feels surreal that this perfect cherub is mine. Despite everything we’ve already been through, in spite of how much this journey of fatherhood has upended the other parts of my life, I wouldn't change it for anything.“Still playing Mr. Mom?” Jones, Adam’s older brother, teases as he takes a seat next to me.I chuckle and shake my head, used to the nickname most of my cousins have given me. “Yes, I am. I’ve had the rottenest luck with childcare, you w