My Landlord’s precious bathroom | #SackYourLandlord

Hi, I’m Samuel and five hundred words cannot suffice to tell you all I went through but I’ll just type what comes to mind now…

He was nice at first; he even called me son. I complained about the ventilation of my room, a window had somehow been permanently locked allowing for no cross-ventilation and he promised to do something about it. Things were fine for a while, but the music changed and I had to dance to the not-so-pleasant tune for the rest of my service year.

I had stupidly rushed back home immediately after camp while my mates secured comfortable accommodation in a building not far from our place of primary assignment as we were posted to a school without a Corpers’ lodge. On my return, my housing problem stared me straight in the face and in a desperate bid to find a place to lay my head; I fell into the hands of my landlord.

His rent was high compared to other houses in the area, and for good reason. The floor of the house was lined with interlocking stones, and in the entire neighbourhood, it was the only compound with a shower in a tiled bathroom and a water closet in the toilet. I was a very proud corper and all my colleagues envied me until suddenly, my landlord decided tenants should stop using the water from his taps and shower because we were wasteful. Although we paid N200 for fuel every time he used his generator to pump water, no one argued with him, we all just made sure to bathe before he came out from the building he occupied with his family to inspect ours. This man stopped bathing in his bathroom and started sharing ours!

I’d finished my work in school and the weather was awfully hot, so I decided to go home, take a proper bath and see if could get some sleep. Landlord travelled that morning, so I had no worries of being disturbed. With water running from the shower and soap suds all over my body, I just stood there thinking of home. I was petrified, I just stood there dumbfounded, if the grounds could just open, I would have gladly entered; my landlord felled the door from the hinges and went on ranting and cussing in his native language. I don’t know how many people came around to see the dance of shame; I didn’t turn around to see.

You’re probably laughing, but I assure you it was not a funny sight. The natives told me later that his eyes were blazing fire, if a cutlass was close by and he’d taken his chemicals, I don’t know which part of my body he would have chopped off.

I can’t share all that happened here; you can mail me if you want some more and I assure you, there’s a lot more than you could ever imagine!

AUTHOR: Olarinde Samuel