This is so Interesting, Take A Chair, Sit and Enjoy.
The school had a supervisor, a man from the Auchi tribe in Edo State. He was a close friend of the proprietor, who was unfortunately terminally ill at the time (he has since passed away). The supervisor’s two sons, David and his younger brother, Mark, were both on full scholarship, courtesy of the proprietor. The supervisor’s job was mainly to ensure everything at the school was running smoothly. It was the biggest and most popular school in the area back then, with separate locations for the primary and secondary sections.
The supervisor’s wife, who everyone affectionately called Mummy David, was a completely different personality from her husband. She was a lovely soul—funny, jovial, tactful, and friendly. She was the kind of person you just couldn’t dislike. Everyone, from the teaching staff to the non-teaching staff, loved her.
Whenever Mummy David was around, the atmosphere would change immediately. My class was on the top floor of the two-story building, and the way we knew she was around was when the school minder would suddenly appear in our class with a bottle of drink and two galas. She wasn’t just nice; she was also beautiful. Though she wasn’t as educated as her husband, her accent and Pidgin English could send anyone reeling with laughter.
Mummy David was a hairdresser, and she had a close friend who was also a hairdresser. I think they had known each other from way back, maybe from Benin. Her friend had some accommodation issues, so Mummy David invited her to stay with them until she could sort herself out.
Mummy David generously offered her the one-room self-contained apartment she and her husband had built away from the main building, which they usually rented out. The friend stayed there free of charge and also helped out in Mummy David’s salon, which was right in front of the house. Every dime her friend made from hairdressing or makeup was hers to keep—a friend’s way of helping a friend, right?
Barely six months after this friend moved in, everyone noticed she was pregnant. I remember passing their street on my way home from school. The supervisor’s house was close to my church, so it was hard not to notice.
On our cultural day, both Mummy David and her friend attended the event. Mummy David was heavily pregnant at the time. After the activities of the day, everyone was chatting and joking around when one of the teachers remarked to Mummy David, "You and your friend are pregnant! Na double celebration and double party jollof rice oo!"
Mummy David laughed and replied, "No mind my friend, she no wan tell me who give am belle, and I don tell am say the person must marry am." Everyone laughed, but her friend just smiled and said nothing.
About a week later, we heard the shocking news that Mummy David had been hospitalized. A few hours later, we were stunned to learn that she had died.
How? What happened? The whole community was in disbelief. No one knew the full story until school closed and we all went home. Then the news started to spread.
Apparently, Mummy David had found out that her husband was responsible for her friend’s pregnancy. It turned out that most nights, before going home to his wife, the supervisor would stop by the lady’s apartment to have an affair with her. There was another tenant, a member of my church, who lived in a two-bedroom apartment close to the lady’s. As a married woman with children, she and her husband minded their own business, but they knew what was going on.
Back to the story.
When Mummy David discovered the truth, she was so shocked that she collapsed. She was about six months pregnant, and sadly, neither she nor the baby survived.
Here’s where the story takes an even more unexpected turn.
Everyone thought that her friend would leave the house in shame, especially with all the gossip going around. But instead, she moved into the main building, took over Mummy David’s salon, and continued living as if nothing had happened.
Rumors began to circulate that Mummy David’s spirit was tormenting her. People claimed they could hear her shouting at night after the supervisor returned from burying his wife. Desperate for peace, the woman started attending a white garment church before she eventually gave birth to a baby boy.
David was about seven years old at the time, and Mark was five. It was during the holidays, and one day, while they were playing outside, their stepmother was in the parlor watching TV with her baby lying on a nearby sofa couch.
Suddenly, the sofa couch the baby was on caught fire. Before she could reach the baby, he had been badly burned. She ran out screaming for help, but there was little anyone could do. The sitting room was completely destroyed, and part of the house was damaged too, although David’s room was untouched. Tragically, the baby didn’t survive.
After the fire, they moved into the tenant’s apartment, which was unoccupied at the time, so they could begin renovations on the main house. People whispered that Mummy David’s spirit was on a rampage and that her spirit needed to be "tied" or pacified.
One more thing I should mention. After losing her son in the fire, the woman became increasingly bitter. One day, she hit David so hard on his head, yelling that his mother couldn’t kill her own child and expect her to take care of hers. The blow left David with a stiff neck, and to this day, he still bears the scars from that incident, with veins visibly standing out on his neck due to the stiffness.
Eventually, the woman managed to "tie" her friend’s spirit and went on to have five more children with the supervisor—four girls and another boy. They still live in the same house. This all happened nearly three years ago, and though people have mostly moved on, the memory still lingers.
Do you still believe in karma?
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