Dr. Prof. Mama Ali

The rain was falling, the cold was clinging, the perfect reflection of my thoughts. The train stopped. I climbed in, water covered the floor. All around me, unfriendly faces. I could talk about it, but those people would not be able to help me. I would weary them, like I had already wearied all of my friends. Talking relieved me for a while but made the problem drag on.

I looked up and then I saw it, something that I had only scoffed at before.

My friends, these strangers, my family, myself, none of these people had been able to help me, but this woman, Dr Prof Mama Ali, claimed she could. I read the line again, “Bring Back Lost Lover – Same Day Results”. Tonight I could be talking to Mike!

I phoned, a man answered.
“Could I talk to Dr Prof Mama Ali?”
“I am he.”
“You’re the mama!”
“Yes, you can cry on my shoulder as I listen to your story.” His tone did not relax me.
“I have a problem.” I felt lame.
“What is it? I can help, tell me what to do.”
“You can make Mike return”
“Who is Mike?”
“He is this guy, I used to know, I worked with him and I … I loved him very much.”
“Ha, easy peasy, I will give you muti, Mike will be there.”

It turns out the mama was located only a five minute walk from my work. So at lunch I walked over to his office. It contained a fan, a computer, a printer busy with pamphlets and a large locked cupboard. As for the mama himself, he was a large man, very tall and with a dark complexion.
“Is it true that you can solve all these problems?” I asked picking a piece of paper up.
“Of course”, he replied.
“What exactly is a “Woman’s Problem?””, I asked, I had always been curious by the phrase.
“Let me explain – these can be problems that are unique to women such ovarian cancer and pain in childbirth.”
“Oh,” I said, “I thought it would be wider than that.”
“Or these can be problems that men experience that are caused by women, such as when a man’s wife is plotting his murder together with his mistress.”
“That’s his own fault anyway.” he waved my answer away with his hand.
“Or it could be a problem between women, like when the mistress and the wife are fighting over who gets to pull the trigger.”
“I doubt they care”
“Not all women’s problems are so serious, it might be that a woman may want to lose weight, or is trying to decide the correct colour make-up. It could be that a woman is struggling to understand a concept in accountancy.”
“How is that a woman’s problem?”
“She’s a woman, she has a problem, by definition it’s a woman’s problem.”
“Then anything is a woman’s problem”
“Yes, but it goes much wider than that.”
“It does?”
“Suppose there is a man and he is struggling with a concept in accountancy, suppose his teacher is a woman. It is a woman’s problem, because he is struggling to understand what a woman is teaching him.”
“And if the teacher is a man?” I asked.
“Well then, this man and this teacher both have mother’s yes?”
“Yes”
“And their mothers are women, yes?”
“Yes”
“If they did not have mothers then they would not exist, they would have no problems. Therefore it is a women’s problem.”
“They also have fathers” I countered.
“That is true.”
“So then why isn’t it “men’s problems?””
“It is too, but I don’t put it on because “men’s problems” do not sell as well… back to your lost lover.”

How could I describe Mike? Mike was the friendly man with dark curly hair. He liked it when everybody was happy and I liked him for that. He had a sense of humour that was neither crude nor offensive and people could join into it. I liked him most of all because when I was with him I wanted to be a better person, he made me inspired for more. Grappling to put all these feelings into words I said “He has a mole on his nose”.
“No, no, not that sort of information… I can’t use that in muti. How much does he weigh?”
“Uhm,” I scrunch my nose “I don’t know.”
“Yet you come to me”
“I guess I have never really considered it”
“Let me help then, extra fee.”
“Okay”
“Is he a tall man?”
“Yes”
“And is he a skinny man?”
“Skinny is not a word I would use to describe Mike, but he is not fat. I guess he works out a lot, makes him all muscular.”
Having said that I knew that I needed to clarify, Mike was not all that buff, but the mama was already scrumaging through the cupboard and muttering. Instead I chose to stand there and watch him perplexed.
“Well here you go” He handed me a small container like the type they get a person’s prescription pills in. Its contents looked, smelled and felt like talcing powder mixed with garden soil. “Extra strong for your big man.”

I don’t know what I expected after I spread the garden with the muti that I had received. I suppose I expected the mama to be a sham. For an hour nothing happened. Then the doorbell rang and my heart started racing, it occurred to me that perhaps I should have put effort into my appearance.
Opening the door however revealed only Larry, the new intern at my work.”
“Oh hey Larry.”
“Hello Sandra. About an hour ago, I was on my way home from work and I suddenly remembered, last week, I asked if I could borrow your pen, and you, most gracious lady that you are, kindly said yes, and I, scoundrel that I am, never returned it. Here it is.” He offered out his hand with my chewed on pen clutched like a prize. “Mind if I stay for tea?”
“Oh sure, how did you know where I lived?”
“I don’t know, I guess I must have seen it on a form. Anyhoo, this place just seems right.”
No sooner than he had stepped over the threshold than Gregory, my recent ex-boyfriend, pulled up the drive way.
“Sandra, I have just got off the phone with Andrea.”
There were pictures all over facebook of Greg and “Ands” kissing. I was not impressed.
“I have broken up with her.”
“Oh?”
“… because I realised that you are the love of my life.”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“Breaking up with you was the biggest mistake of my life”
“I broke up with you” I corrected.
“I should have fought harder, I should have tried longer. I should have wooed you back.”
“No Gregory there was nothing that you could have done.”

At that moment, another man, one who I did not recognize, punched him in the nose.
“Sandra, remember me?”
“No”
“I remember you, oh sweetness. All those years back in Green Hill Primary. You were the prefect in charge of the line. All the other Gr4s called you “Miss Bossy Pants”, but with those curls and dimples, I always did what you said. Now here I am wondering if you will accept me.”
“Into the lounge, into lounge” I found myself saying. “Each man to his own chair and no … touching”. Clive, whose name my childhood sweetheart turned out to be, was busy scowling at a beaming Larry.

In the kitchen I pulled out my phone. “Mama, there are many men in my lounge.”
“Yes, those are lost lovers.”
“Mama, Mike is not here.”
“How far does Mike live from you?”
“Two blocks.”
The sound of crackles could be heard over the quiet line.
“He is not coming.”
“What!?”
“The muti brings back lost lovers, it does not make new lovers.”
“I do not understand.”
“This Mike” the mama paused, “He never loved you.”
I feel devastated, but if the mama’s muti has worked so well so far, perhaps he can still help.
“Well, can you make him love me?”
“No”
“But you do marriage spells!” I cry out.
“I do marriage spells, but not love spells. I can make a loveless marriage. Do you want a loveless marriage?”
“No,” I put the phone down.

Back in the lounge I am confronted by my bad decisions. Clive has not hurt anyone physically but he is hurling out insults at all the others in the room. Gregory by contrast is ignoring and has his celphone out and is busy taking his own photos, while Larry immediately stands up and offers to help me.
“Listen up everybody, there is muti on the lawn that made you come here. At some point you either did or still do, like me.”
They all protest that right now I am the one for them.
“Well, you moved on then and you will move on now.” They called me Miss Bossy Pants for a reason. “Gregory, we tried, it didn’t work, hopefully you can make things right with Andrea.
Clive, I am sure you will defend my honour when I am not around, but will you be kind to me in person. I don’t see the signs.
And Larry” I look at Larry, his face hopeful. “Larry, I don’t know you.” His eyes become downcast for the first time. “But perhaps we can hang out sometime.”
Larry smiled.