“He is in there,” I could hear clearly Mai VaSimon assure my landlord. She was poking her long nose into my affairs. I always knew that Mai VaSimon, our neighbour did not like us.
Mr Tigere, my landlord had been knocking on the door for the past ten minutes up to the time Mai VaSimon assured him that I was still in the house. I knew that if this ruckus continued for much longer, onlookers would soon gather outside. As I have always said before, people in the ghetto were always on the lookout for drama.
“I know you are in there, “ said Mr Tigere, knocking with vigour.
I stayed put in the house. I did not have the money to pay rent for the month.
Mai Maidei had already left for the market and the children had gone to school. I was on night shift and I would be able to leave for work only n the late afternoon.
The thick porridge laced with peanut butter had gone cold and I had woken up to warm it when I first heard the knock. It was the landlord. He even attempted to open it. Lucky enough the door was locked. I hastily retreated stealthily to the bedroom on tiptoe.
“Hey, open up! It’s me your landlord, I know you are in there!” Said the landlord. I felt a surge of anxiety and frustration. I could not face my landlord right away.
I could still hear my nosy neighbour talking in low tones. If I did not like her before this day, she was one more enemy for me. I swore under my breath; this was not the end of it. When the time was right, I was going to confront the husband.
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“I saw him go in earlier. He is definitely home. He is just ignoring you,” said Mai VaSimon. I felt a surge of anger. She was making things worse, pouring paraffin into fire.
Mr Tigere started banging the door. He was losing patience. I was tempted to open the door and confront Mai VaSimon.
However, common sense told me to take my time. I decided to stay put, but I felt trapped and helpless. This wasn't the kind of life I desired. I had a job but I still struggled to meet my financial obligations,
By this time, I felt rather than saw other neighbours and onlookers gather to watch the spectacle. They were expecting quite some drama. The ultimate climax was the expectation to see my household goods being thrown out of the house by the landlord.
Eviction of errant lodgers was a common occurrence in the ghetto. Unfortunately it laid bare one's dignity and in essence was antagonising to say the least. One was left without a shred of dignity.
I was glad that my wife, Mai VaMaidei and the children were not around to witness this humiliation.
I was just hoping that Zvazviri, our resident ghetto photographer was not lurking nearby.
It seemed like Mr Tigere was determined to confront me for he continued to bang on the door. I was just hoping that the door was strong enough to withstand the barrage of attacks from him.
“Today, you shall see the stuff I am made of,” he was now threatening me. He had thrown caution to the wind.
I was glad when just at that moment drops of rain started falling. I smiled. If the rains could not drive away Mr Tigere, then nothing could. The rain pounded on the roof and I heard movement outside as Mr Tigere ran next door to seek shelter. The rainfall was short-lived and to my dismay Mr Tigere was back, knocking on the door.
I tried Baba VaTata's number. It was ringing. He was not picking up his phone. I was just hoping that he could borrow me some money once again.
I was getting frustrated by the persistent banging of the door when I suddenly heard Baba VaTata's voice. He did not see eye to eye with my landlord.
“What is the problem now,” asked Baba VaTata.
“Your friend Is refusing to pay my rent,” said Mr Tigere.
“There is a difference between refusing and not having the money,” said Baba VaTata.
“I want my money now,” demanded Mr Tigere.
Buoyed by the presence of Baba VaTata, I cautiously opened the door.
“See, there he is,” shouted Mr Tigere in excitement. He started jumping up and down, hopping to and from with uncontrollable excitement. He wanted to pounce on me. I saw Mai VaSimon out of the corner of my eye. She was trying to hide among the other onlookers.
“How much is it? ”Asked Baba VaTata. I told him. He counted the money and gave me. I then gave the money to Mr Tigere.
“Next time I will evict you if you give me more problems,” he said.
Baba VaTata saved the day for me as I saw onlookers disperse. I could not thank him enough.
“As long as you continue to rely solely on your salary, you will continue to have these financial problems. Find a side hustle,” he said.
After this I was ready to get my hands dirty. Poverty and persistent financial woes rob one of dignity and happiness.
* Onie Ndoro is an educationist, IELTS tutor, storyteller and ghostwriter. For feedback: cell 0773007173/Twitter @Onie90396982, Email:[email protected]
