I can’t remember what sent me there that morning.

I had assumed she was awake by then. Many of her next-door neighbors were still asleep when I got there. There was one worker who was leaving early to work. He told me he heard her voice so I should knock a little louder.

Perhaps she was in the washroom. The washroom was beside the main door and there was no sign of any activity in there.

I waited for the man’s footsteps to fade into he distance before resuming the knocks. I could now hear him greeting some loud and lousy woman in the neighborhood, a real troublemaker.

I was about to knock again when I heard her voice inside. I listened carefully. She was on the phone. And at this moment, she seemed to be saying something sensitive so she lowered her voice. Thankfully, I could hear from where I stood.

“Cure me first, then I will have a baby for you…” I heard her say over the phone.

I stood there alert, listening hard.

“Oh, that one, he isn’t serious… I don’t like him… His dick is too small…” She kept on saying.

She was talking about men she has been with and why it didn’t work out.

This had to be the handiwork of God! I thought. There was no way I was going to discover the true colours of this woman if not for this miraculous opportunity to eavesdrop on her call conversations.

She was about five years older than me and we didn’t know what we were in. I had the illusion that we were in some sort of relationship both of us were unsure of.

And here is how it all started.

I had freshly rented a room in a neighborhood I knew nobody. I was out of work, so everyday I was in my room almost the entire day.

I had boredom in good measure, pressed down, shaken and running over.

Sometimes, I stood by my closed window, watching people passing behind it through a crevice. I did this for a couple of weeks until one morning I heard a different voice among the voices that usually gathered behind my window to gossip.

It was a bold, distinct voice, full of life and I could sense happiness and honesty in the voice. I hurried to my window to see who it was. I saw this sweet face, a friendly one, an inviting face that stood out among the rest.

She was saying how she hates hypocrites and how she’s lost so many friends because they didn’t like to be told the truth to their face. And how many men didn’t like her for her honesty. No wonder she’s still single, she said.

From her conversations, I now understood she was single, she was honest and very friendly and liked laughing a lot.

But I forgot one thing: she was the one writing her own testimonial. I was too naive to see that.

Since I was lonely and had no one to talk to and I liked this new voice I was hearing behind the window, I began listening out more for her voice and whenever I heard it, I ran to the window to have a glimpse of her face.

In my heart, I was saying, “see fine woman that many men are too blind to see because they hate honest people like this.”

I felt we would make great friends because I love honest people.

Soon, I began to take walks around the house with the hope that we might bump into each other.

This didn’t happen as soon as I expected it.

It happened one night when our lights were out. The room was warm and everyone was forced to come out of their shells and holes to catch the night breeze outside.

“He is the new tenant I told you about.” her friend told her.

Being the outspoken woman that she was, she introduced herself and half of the other tenants seated outside. She didn’t hesitate to tell me in a low tone the people to avoid in that house. They were evil and troublesome, she reminded me.

It wasn’t long and we became friends. It seemed we were the only single people in the house. It was her custom, she told me, to occasionally cook for single men since she knew they worked and rarely had time to cook.

That same day, she brought me food. And this became frequent.

But I hadn’t noticed something.

The more I ate her food, the more I thought of her and the more difficult it was to avoid telling her my feelings towards her.

It was strange.

Was something put into my food? Or it was infatuation? Or desperation? Could it be love? Or loneliness dictating my feelings?

Sometimes, after serving me food in the evening she called at night to ask if I had taken my bath. She asked about petty things that made us giggle and laugh. Sometimes it was hot gossip about something or some people in the house.

I suspected she wanted to invite me to sneak to her place, but she didn’t know how to put it and perhaps was just testing the waters, to see my response to many of her ribald jokes so that at the opportune time, she could plant her bomb.

I was a fool then. All I had to do was assume I didn’t know she was buying time, keeping her cards close to her chest, rehearsing her game in her head before playing it out. I was impatient. The procession was coming home and I didn’t have the discernment nor the wisdom to sit tight for it to arrive before deciding what to do next.

I rushed. I couldn’t wait any longer. I couldn’t tell what pushed me, my impatience or some love potion she dropped into my food.

I told her I loved her. I wanted to marry her. I said she was the best woman in the woman I’ve ever met. I even said she cooked better than my mom. Can you imagine I said such dumb things?

I couldn’t say it to her face. I sent her a message. And she gave a not-so-straight answer… About she seeing me as a brother and us just being friends and to drop that line of conversation.

I felt hurt.

I had thought she’s been roaming searching for true love and couldn’t find honest, caring men to share her life with. I was willing to stand by her. I didn’t care what people would say about the age difference. I loved her and that was all that mattered. I didn’t even care she had a son whose age wasn’t far from mine.

For days, I recoiled into my room like a wounded cobra.

Damned! Turned down again!

I’ve suffered too many rejections. And this woman I thought I was doing her a favor by wanting to marry me had turned me down too. Why was I always being rejected?

Slowly, I was getting over the wounds.

Then one day, she confided in me about an illness that was eating her. She risked becoming barren for life if the treatment didn’t happen soon enough.

Initially, I didn’t want to do anything about it. Besides, I wasn’t working and I was thinking of my next rent. But I couldn’t let a friend down. She had being honest by saying she didn’t want a relationship instead of playing me.

I began soliciting funds from North, South, East and West, even from people I would never dare ask for anything, people who respected me a lot. I put my reputation on the line. I thought It was a matter of life and death so I treated it as such.

She told me how whenever she asked people to help her, especially male friends who worked in the health sector, they wanted to take advantage of her before helping. I felt sorry for her.

It took a while, a lot of efforts, but I managed to get the money and even had some left over to pay my rent.

I remember the joy and gratitude on her face as I handed her the cash. She couldn’t believe someone would do that without expecting anything in return.

After giving her the money, I kept checking on her to see if she had gone for the operation.

Days turned into weeks and she still hadn’t gone. I even had a friend whose mom operated a private clinic. I spoke to my friend to see if they could treat my neighbor at a special discount and she agreed. But my neighbor was reluctant to go, offering funny excuses even a donkey would sniff at and refuse to bite.

It was now a month and I began to regret helping her. If she really needed the treatment, why wasn’t she in a hurry to go?

Can you imagine she told me she had some difficulties and had to use some of the money I gave her, indirectly implying  that I should help her make the top-up? Incredible!

That morning I was at her place and accidentally heard her over the phone, it was now over a month and she still hadn’t gone to hospital for treatment.

The conversation made me understand everything. Her illness was her chance to present herself to so many friends, old friends, Exes and potential lovers, to extort money from them, giving them  false hopes that something might develop afterwards.

The longer she delayed, the more money she made and the more I became suspicious of the truth about her illness.

See how one bad nut can destroy the chances and future of so many good nuts.

Ever since that experience, I never worried my coconut head about someone’s “urgent need”.

My mouth wasn’t too twisted to enjoy good things and a good life. I preferred eating my own money rather than waste it on someone in hopes of finding love.

Interestingly, those who are worth giving love a chance do not always come with a cup in hand.

I tiptoed slowly backwards, returning my two feet to wherever they came from, locking my door firmly behind them.

How I was going to react to her henceforth wasn’t sure. What was sure was that a number was going to be deleted from my phone, and the call hanged up whenever a certain voice was heard saying “Hello my dear… Hello… Hello… Are you there? “