Where art thou money man when I need you?

It is Ramadhan, and I am also fasting. Not because I am Muslim, but because life is hard. Everything has run out. The Yaka units are at 0:27, the water bill is unpaid, the gas is threatening to burn out, the Internet needs renewing and there are bills pending at the hospital. There is no money, and pay day feels like a million years away.
Thieves, as if aware of this, helped themselves to all the neighbours’ car lights, tyres and were kind enough to smash some of the car windows, so there is no chance of a free ride to work. The fridge is full of nothing, but water which mocks me to turn it into wine. What is a girl to do when money takes impromptu leave?
In the midst of my pity party, I remembered Haruna. An elderly man, about 60 years old or so, who I had run into at a conference on getting off sexual networks and arresting the rising HIV prevalence rate. He had pulled out all manner of chivalry to impress me and since he would not stop asking for my number, I gave him the office landline.
Every day he called to say hello, and ask if I was in need of anything and that whatever it was, he would gladly pay. I do not believe in free things, so I always politely turned down his offers.
After five months of offering to turn my life around, one day Haruna sent flowers, chocolate and a big box of splash with a note that said, “I am not going to call you anymore but if you ever need anything, please call me. I know you think I am old and ugly but these young boys who have just seen money cannot give you what I have. All they can afford is chips and chicken feet. If you accept my help, you won’t have to suffer working for those ungrateful bosses. Yes, I already have four wives but the heart wants what it wants and I have the money. When you are ready for a real man, call me. Kasita you have my number.”
That was a month ago. Now here I was, so broke and hungry, that every time I closed my eyes to sleep, all I heard was fried chicken calling my name, begging me to eat it. I was supposed to buy my nephew ice cream but since I do not have money, I introduced him to a game called pretend, where we pretend to eat ice cream when what we are really eating is porridge. I called it practice session for later and threatened that if he did not finish the porridge, then he definitely was not ready for the real thing.
I looked at Haruna’s business card. At that moment, it looked a lot like my ticket to heaven. All I had to do was dial 10 digits and life would be alright again. Forget his four wives and children who I had found out, through the grapevine, were living in dire need because for some reason, Haruna would not provide.
However, the fala in me would not dial the number. As if by some kind of telepathy, Haruna called me at that moment, apologising for calling me after he had promised not to, but said he had to find out how I was. I smiled into the phone and assured him that I was doing very well and then quickly hung up.
Call me stupid or whatever, but all I managed thereafter was to unconsciously recite the Lord’s prayer — for the 60th time that day “...lead me not into temptation and deliver me from evil...”
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