When I was moving in, he was around. He came to the truck asking to help me. I declined his help. He was a man, a stranger I didn’t want to allow into my room. I could have used his help but I said no.

He sat a few meters away watching me and the truck driver move my things into my recently rented room.

Days later, I saw him around. I noticed his house was just a wall away from mine. Very close. When he saw me, he waved and asked how I was doing. I waved back. “I’m doing just fine. How about you?” I said. His eyes glowed while telling me how he was doing.

Walls suffer when you rent a new room. I had so much to hang on my wall so I kept knocking nails and screws into them. It was hard, especially when I had to use a stone to knock the nails into the wall. While struggling, I heard a knock on my door. I opened the door and it was him.

“Do you need help? I can hear the sound of your hammer,” he asked me.”

“I’m doing fine,” I said. “It’s not anything that I can’t handle.”

He nodded. Before turning away I asked his name. He said Phillip but friends called him Philipo. “Thank you Philipo. I’ll definitely call on you when I need your help,” I told him.

When he left, I sat down and wondered what kind of pride would push me to say no to someone who willingly wanted to help me. It got worse when the stone missed the head of the nail and hit my finger instead. I threw everything down and cried.

I saw him around often. I would hear neighbours shouting his name, “Philipo!” When we crossed paths we both smiled and said hello to each other. I found myself saying to myself, “He’s not that bad?” Anytime we met, said hello and passed each other by, I wondered about him.

One early morning, I heard a knock on my door. Before I could ask who it was, he screamed, “It’s me, Philipo.” I tucked my hair in and wore a long dress I could hide in. When I opened the door, he was standing there with another guy. They were both holding two buckets of water in both hands. He said, “I brought you water. I know you didn’t ask me to but I figured you may need it.”

For the first time, I opened my door for him and directed him to my washroom where he could pour the water. Water hadn’t flowed in our pipes for weeks. I was bathing and cooking with a sachet of water. It cost a lot but I didn’t have any option. Philipo figured right. The smiles were endless. I thought of giving him a hug but instead, I asked, “How are you always able to guess my needs right?”

The other guy left. We talked. He promised to bring more. I said it was OK. In the evening, I saw four buckets of water in front of my door. He left them there for me to find. I poured them out and kept the bucket inside. When he came back for them, I pulled him in, cooked, and served him. We talked for hours. I opened up to him, and he did, too.

Sometimes, love is allowing someone to hit the head of your nails for you so you don’t have to miss the nail and hit your fingernails. I didn’t know that. And when someone is willing to help, allow them. It may be who they are. You kill them when you say no. Philipo didn’t want anything. He saw someone he could help and was ready to do it.

What Will Make You Leave Me After Forty Years Of Marriage?

We were friends for over two years before he moved out of the neighbourhood. He had a new job out of town and had to go. We stopped talking for months until we recently reconnected. He asked of Josh, my boyfriend. I told him we were waxing strong. He told me about Rosemary, a lady he found not long ago. Currently, we are both waiting to see whose wedding we’ll attend first. I hope it’s his because he’s a good man.

— Mercy

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