Madam landlady, leave my family alone…

by Shally Ashimi

The first time I met my landlady, I was taken aback by her genuine concern for my family. She was kind, bored and friendly. She seemed to have a similar story about every scenario you described to her. She was also a socialite; she always knew someone that knew someone that could solve your problem. My landlady and my husband never seemed to get along. My husband was of the opinion that she was an in-your-business-talkative.


I welcomed my landlady’s familiarity with warm arms because I was bored. I lost my job three months ago, when the bank I worked for was restructuring. I remember how I cried in-between every task. I would cook and cry; eat and cry; laugh and cry. I had become a drama queen. I had a stinging feeling that the world was against me especially because I had waited so long for a child, and my sole consolation, which was my job was being yanked from under my feet. My drama and my husband’s fear for my sanity informed his decision of changing apartments. He concluded our former apartment may have been jinxed with a familiar evil spirit that was beginning to overshadow us. We moved out and we moved into this new apartment in Ajah.
My landlady usually came unannounced into my apartment and we talked and talked. She was almost 20 years older than I was, but I didn’t mind an older buddy. Her husband died three years ago and her children all lived in the UK. One of her children came visiting once; it seemed they were all chatty in their family. My landlady was also a Christian but rarely went to church. I went to church with my husband when he was in Lagos and when he wasn’t in Lagos I went alone. I later found out that my Landlady held services in her house. When I told my husband, he looked sceptical, ‘Service in her house? Is she a Pastor?’ My husband was so judgemental and paranoid, I thought. I drifted to another topic, before I was warned and summarily advised against becoming too familiar with the Landlady.
Once Sunday, my landlady invited me for the service held in her apartment and I accepted. My husband was on a business trip in the East. I honestly went with an open mind, but I was a little surprised that the service had lots of prophetic sessions of doom and evil. Everyone’s problem had to do with the jealousy of a neighbour, friend, parent or even spouse. I decided against my better judgement to wait till the end of the service. I assumed that since my landlady was a product of that gathering, the gathering must at least have some good effect, right? I made a terrible mistake, I got my own prophesy, which was my husband was my problem and I needed to divorce him to move forward in all aspects of my life. I listened and decided against attending this service again!
I made sure I went to my church regularly and welcomed my landlady with caution to my apartment; though I acted like nothing had happened in her apartment. Two weeks after the prophetic incident, my landlady said she wanted to have a word with me, she asked what I was actively doing towards fulfilling the requirement of the prophecy; and I told her I was praying. For the next month she was pestering me, calling me, coming to my house, and advising me to divorce my husband. She even went as far as offering me a rent free apartment for a year if money was my concern.
I knew I had to run for my life. I began pleading with my husband to let us change apartments. I didn’t tell him the details, because I feared he would play the I-told-you-so game or even worse, confront her. He said he was surprised that I complained about an apartment I was so excited about, especially since the landlady and I were so chummy.
Yesterday, my landlady brought some of her service members and began banging on my door; when I looked through the door hole and found out her wolf-pack were the ones at the other side of # my door, I went back to bed.
That night I recounted the story from beginning to end to my husband and he looked at me with contempt and said, ‘I almost didn’t believe her, I know your plan. You want to leave me and run away with the other man you have been seeing.’
‘Which stories Mike?’ I was furious, and mad that my husband assumed I had come up with a plan to run away with my supposed boyfriend; angry that he even considered that I could be cheating on him. Na wa o! What is happening? Find out next week!