The weather wasn’t looking good when he said he was coming over. I told him about it, and he told me I shouldn’t worry. “Just make some jollof for me, I’m on my way.”

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As an obedient girlfriend, I started gathering the ingredients to make his wishes come true. The jollof was on fire when he arrived. He honked, and I went outside. He wasn’t in his car but a different one. I asked if he’d bought a new car, and he laughed. “With what money? This is Adwoa’s car. Mine is making some funny noises, so it’s with repairs.”

Not long after he entered, it started to rain. I’ve been at this place for two years. He was the one who rented the place for me. I searched with him until we found this place, and he paid for it. It had rained on different occasions, and life was normal, so another rainy day shouldn’t give us cause for concern.

He enjoyed his rice while I was in the bathroom. The sound of the thunder told the story of serious rain, but then again, who cares about the thunder and its unnecessary noise just to scare us?

After bathing, I lay on the sofa, and he joined. He was singing “Weather no di neho aba,” getting ready to do the do when we heard the neighbors shouting. There was chaos and fear in their voices, but the reason for the fear wasn’t clear. Half of what they were saying got swallowed by the sound of the heavy rainfall, but the chaos in their voices was apparent.

I pushed the curtains aside to see what was happening. That was when I saw firsthand what was going on. The water level was unnatural. I saw a neighbor rushing out of the house, and the water was right beneath his knee. I said, “It looks like the flood is coming.”

When he looked outside, the first thing he said was, “My car.” He quickly put on his shirt and rushed out. I followed. The whole street was swallowed, and the water level was swelling with every drop of rain. He took his keys and thought of driving out. Everyone shouted, “Nooo, that’s a bad idea. The whole neighborhood is underwater; you would be swept away.”

We were left with nothing to do but pray that the rain wouldn’t continue falling. While we were engaged in silent prayers, all I heard him say was, “Eiiiii, what am I going to tell my wife? Eii, Adwoa’s car. Why didn’t I go home?” Then he turned to me and asked, “Has this place always been like this during rains?”

Then someone shouted, “You all should move out of your houses. Put what may spoil on top of your wardrobe and move.” By then, the water was right in front of my doorstep. It had entered the walled compound and was making its way into the room. The car was sitting there, not knowing it was about to drown. I held him in and told him, “I don’t think the water can swell enough to engulf the whole car. Just rest easy.”

The car was swallowed whole. We were on top of a storey building, watching the menace of the rain. Our houses were on their knees, bowing to the majesty of the rain. Cars didn’t stand a chance. You cast your eyes around and saw cars dotted on the surface of the water. Men don’t cry—he would have.

His wife called. He watched the screen and asked, “What am I going to tell her?” He didn’t pick up. She called again. I told him, “Just pick up the call and tell her something. You will make her worried.”

As usual, the first question was, “Where are you?” I didn’t hear the question, but the answer gave the question away: “I passed by a friend’s place to see him, but the rain has seized me here.”

They talked. He made faces. When he hung up, he murmured to himself.

The rain stopped, but the flood was thick and strong. That was when we saw things floating and being washed away: a big dustbin, black polythene bags, a table, chairs, room stuff. We sat and watched till late at night. He turned his phone off so his wife wouldn’t call for updates.

Eventually, he left without the car. I went to a friend’s place to sleep. The car was towed only yesterday. I don’t know what he told his wife, but looking at his demeanor, all is not well, though he tells me everything is fine.

I have a lot of things to deal with myself. So many things to throw away and many things to replace. My bed and sofa were ruined. My fridge doesn’t respond. A lot of things I don’t have the money to buy now, but I have life, so it’s all good.

I Was Fine Until I Was Alone In My Room

But the way things are going now, I don’t think this relationship will survive the aftermath of the rain. He’s cold. He doesn’t call. When I call, he gives me cold responses. I didn’t cause the rain to fall, but it looks like he’s blaming me. If this becomes the end of us, I will understand. It was bound to end at some point—I knew this right from the start.

—Efia

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