The knife. My neighbour

Sunday afternoon around 4pm, I heard a knock on my door, and at first, I didn’t want to answer or walk to the door to know who it was because on Sundays, I don’t like disturbances. But when I heard an infant voice, I asked from my bed where I was lying, “Yes, who’s that?”

“It’s me, Bobo Great,” the boy replied.

I got up from bed and walked to the door.

“My mommy said you should give your knife.”

I went inside my kitchen, picked up my cooking knife, and gave it to him.
It has been like that for about two weeks. The woman, who sent her 7-year-old boy to borrow my knife, has been doing that for two weeks, and that’s because they gave out their knife to some people who came to celebrate a birthday in the lounge close to our house, and they didn’t return it to them. So, it’s been difficult for them to get a new knife ever since then.

On my end, I have been having issues with them over how they don’t return the borrowed knife until I ask for it whenever I want to cook. I once vowed never to give it to them again whenever they came, but I trashed that idea because it would look like I was being wicked.

Do you know what? That Sunday, they didn’t return the knife, and I wasn’t concerned because I didn’t have any use for the knife all through that Sunday.

Monday morning when I woke up, as I came out, I saw a lady walk up to me, pleading that she wanted to drop something with me so I could help her give it to the woman who gave it to her last night since the woman had not opened the shop. She was actually referring to the woman who borrowed my knife.

“Okay, what’s that? Bring it.”

She placed her hand inside the bag and brought out a knife—my knife, actually. It was messed up with cake icing, and a part of the handle had been broken.

“This is my knife na. How did you get it?” I asked her, looking a bit surprised even though I knew it was the woman who gave it to her.

“It was that woman. She gave it to us to cut cake for a birthday celebration, and when we were through, she had closed already,” she explained.

I collected my knife and went to wash off the cake icing that had stained it.

Do you know that the woman who borrowed the knife never showed concern, not even to return my knife?

Tuesday, which was yesterday in the afternoon, she sent her son to come and borrow my knife, and I almost went mad. What audacity! She wanted to borrow the knife she didn’t return!

I wanted to go and confront her, but I just let peace reign. I told her son, whom she sent, to tell his mother that since they borrowed the knife, they haven’t returned it.

Up till now, the woman has not made it a point of concern to come and ask me if, by any chance, I collected the knife back since they borrowed it on Sunday.
I have been keeping my cool, but sometimes I just feel like going to talk some sense into her, though I fear I might lose control over my choice of words.

Thanks for reading.

Photo used is mine