If you are just seeing this title for the first time, you should catch up on the first part, Mrs Evangelist.
PS: It is a true story, my story.
After the police incident, she became difficult to ignore. The inhabitants of the compound called a meeting to discuss how to handle her. It was at this point I realized my “neighbor-distance-syndrome” had shielded me from a lot of happenings.
Let me break it down, from the very beginning. This beautiful woman was married to a wealthy man, once. She had two wonderful children for him, who were in their 20s and 30s respectively. Her daughter had rented a house in the compound, in the quest for independence from her family drama. She divorced her husband and came to stay with her daughter. When she first moved in, she shared tracts, sang and prayed on top of her voice. She evangelized to the inhabitants, once in a while dropping judgement statements.
Neighbors found out from her daughter that she was a Pastor, so they tolerated her snickering, insults muttered under her breath. Even more, they tolerated the books she bought targeted to address the vices she found in them. She went ahead to write a book on marriage and became a marriage counselor. At this point, she had earned the name: “Mrs Evangelist” among neighbors. In the midst of all these, mother and daughter fought often, until the daughter moved out. That was the last time rent and any bill from that flat was paid. She was served a quick notice but every time she was served, the quick notice ended up in the bin.
At times, NEPA people (ehn correct me by saying PHCN or whatever they now call themselves, you sha understand) would be themselves and mix up wires, sometimes pumping machine would stop working, all these things will happen and she would do nothing to help. By nothing I mean, we all came together to pay money and fix and she would do nothing. She stopped coming out. I started noticing bins in front of her house, spoiled food left over by people. A lot was going on. We discussed that we will all just let her be.
She made it a thing to fight with anyone who knocked on her door. Her fights always ended with a stern warning “Never knock on my door again”. This is often followed by series of insults.
It did not end here o!
Mrs Evangelist woke up recently irritated by the noise of kids playing in the compound. She lit newspaper and flung it at the kids. Adults around screamed in horror but this did not stop her. In fact, it agitated her even more. She boiled hot water and splashed it through her window. Then, she turned it up a notch, urinated and defecated in a bucket and poured it at the kids. It made a mess, splashed on the walls and covered the corridor of one of the flats. The compound was a mess.
The Landlord was called, he came with police men and she told them that he had raped her, this had broken her mentally and now he is trying to eject her from the house. The police were dumbfounded, the evidence of the mess and the new rape story confused them, so they left. The next day, she used the broken mirrors she kept at her window pane to cut the window net. She poured out her trash and biological waste, pampers and so many disgusting things.
We got together, decided it was time to get her help in a mental clinic. The psychiatrist said we had no right to admit her without family consent. We called her daughter, and she said “I want nothing to do with that woman”.
So, here we are! Stuck with a mentally challenged woman in the compound. Honestly, I am genuinely worried and I need advice on what to do.
How can we involve the state government?
Help oooo! Before one day, somebody will burn the house while we are all sleeping!!!