13/06/2025
*TEARS OF A MAID EPISODE 1*
Amara was only eight years old, but her hands were already rough from too much work. Every morning, before the sun came up, she was already awake. She didn’t have an alarm clock. The sound of the birds and her mother’s soft cough woke her up.
Her house was small—just one room made of mud and covered with a roof of old iron sheets. When it rained, water came in through the holes. The floor was not smooth. It was brown, cold earth.
Amara's job each day was to help her sick mother. She would sweep the floor with a bunch of dry grass, fetch water from the stream, and gather sticks for firewood. But what she did the most was wash dishes. Lots and lots of dishes.
The dishes were always in a big red bowl behind the house. Her neighbors sometimes gave her food in old bowls, and when they did, she had to return the bowls clean. She would sit on a low wooden stool and scrub the plates with a piece of sponge and some ash because they didn’t have soap.
As she washed, she often sang quietly. Her favorite song was one her father used to sing before he died:
“Shine, shine little light,
Don’t go out at night.
Mama’s love is always near,
Even when you cry a tear.”
She missed her father so much. He had died when a snake bit him in the farm. Since then, everything had changed. Her mother grew sick. Their food became less. Their laughter disappeared. But Amara never stopped trying. She worked hard every day and kept smiling.
She was very small for her age. Her clothes were always too big or torn. But her heart was strong. She didn’t like to complain. If someone gave her one sweet, she would break it into two and give half to her mother.
One afternoon, after washing a big pile of dishes, Amara sat under a mango tree near her house. She was tired. Her hands were cold and wet, but she had no towel to dry them. She looked up at the sky and whispered, “God, please help us. Please let Mama get better. Please send us food.”
Just then, her neighbor, Aunty Chinwe, walked by. She stopped and looked at Amara.
“Still washing dishes, Amara?” she asked with a smile.
“Yes, ma,” Amara replied quietly.
“You’re a strong little girl,” Aunty Chinwe said. “But don’t you want to go to school like the other children?”
Amara looked down. Her eyes were sad. “I want to, ma. But we don’t have money. Mama said maybe one day.”
Aunty Chinwe sighed. “The world is not fair sometimes. But keep praying, okay? God listens.”
Amara nodded. She believed that.
Later that day, she went inside the house and sat next to her mother, who lay on the mat, coughing and looking weak.
“Mama,” Amara said, holding her hand, “I wish I could go to school.”
“I know, my sweet child,” Mama said softly. “One day, your dream will come true. You are smart, and kind, and strong. Never forget that.”
Amara smiled. She wanted to believe it. She did.
But that night, something happened that changed everything.
There was a knock at the door. Amara and her mother looked at each other, surprised. They didn’t get visitors often, especially not at night.
When Amara opened the door, a tall woman stood there. She wore shiny shoes and a dress that looked very expensive. Behind her was a man, maybe her driver.
“Good evening,” the woman said in a sharp voice. “I’m looking for a young girl to help me in my house. My maid just ran away.”
Amara was confused. She had never seen such a woman before.
Her mother sat up slowly.
The woman continued, “I was told you have a daughter. I’ll take her with me to the city. She’ll live in my house, clean, cook, and care for my children. In return, I will send you a little money every month.”
Amara’s heart started beating fast. She looked at her mother,
hoping she would say no. But her mother looked tired, too tired to argue. Her eyes were full of tears.
“Will she be safe?” Mama asked.
“Yes, of course,” the woman answered. “I’ll treat her well.”
There was a long silence. Then, Mama looked at Amara and smiled sadly.
“My daughter,” she said, “this may be the only way. Be brave. Be strong. One day, you will return home. Better and stronger.”
Amara cried that night as she packed the little clothes she had into a small nylon bag. Her mother gave her an old scarf and tied it around her neck.
“Remember, my child,” she whispered, “God is always with you.”
Amara hugged her tightly. “I love you, Mama.”
“I love you more.”
Then, the woman called her. “Let’s go.”
And just like that, the little girl who used to wash dishes behind her small house was now on her way to a new life—one she didn’t understand, one that scared her, one that would test her in ways she never imagined.
*But deep in her heart, Amara promised herself one thing: no matter what happened, she would never stop dreaming.*
*Watch out for next episode*
