The Senator's Driver

Under The Senator's Roof

One humid evening, while Senator Adeniyi Williams was away in Abuja attending one of his senatorial seatings, the grand mansion felt unusually quiet—until it wasn’t.

Araire returned home that night in a flurry of perfume and soft laughter, her hand intertwined with her boyfriend Tunde’s. Dressed in casual luxury and heels that clicked against the marble floor, she exuded the confidence of a senator’s daughter who had the world at her feet.

Unfortunately, Ayobami, the house steward with an eagle eye and a knack for disrupting anything remotely romantic, was also very much around.

He watched from the shadows of the hallway, his expression curled in disapproval as Araire and Tunde giggled their way into the guest room like teenagers skipping curfew.

“Tch,” he muttered under his breath. “So na like dis dem dey do for this house now? Under Senator roof?”

He clutched his trusty wooden spoon—his self-declared weapon of justice—and crept down the hallway like a hunter on a mission. The house was dimly lit, the chandelier above casting shadows like ghosts watching silently.

As soon as Ayobami heard the unmistakable sounds of lip-smacking and suppressed moans, he stormed into the room without warning.

"Yeeeeh! Rat! Rat!" he screamed, waving his wooden spoon as if warding off an unseen spirit. His face was contorted with fake panic, eyes darting across the room with exaggerated urgency.

Araire and Tunde sprang apart mid-kiss, mouths agape and eyes wild with confusion.

“What the hell?!” Tunde barked, struggling to zip up his hoodie.

Ayobami dropped to his knees, smacking the floor with his spoon.

“I see am! I swear on my mother’s only wrapper, I see one fat rat! E big like baby goat! E run enter this room!”

“Are you mad?” Araire shouted, pulling her hair back in frustration. “Which kind of rat will enter air-conditioned room?”

“I dey tell una say I see am with my two korokoro eyes. If I lie, make NEPA bring light for 72 hours straight!” Ayobami replied, still crawling on all fours like a man possessed.

Tunde glared at him, jaw tightened. “Guy, what kind stupid joke is this one again?”

Araire crossed her arms, clearly fed up. “Ayobami, I swear if you don’t leave this room in the next five seconds—”

“Madam, e no fit do like that!” he interrupted, standing to his feet like a brave soldier. “This rat na professional. E go dey hide under bed, sometimes e dey under couch and under bed!”

Tunde chuckled despite himself, but one glare from Araire shut him up again.

“I’ve had enough of this lunatic!” she fumed.

Ayobami stood with his hands on his hips, chest puffed out like a neighborhood vigilante. “Una dey laugh now, but when that rat go chop your panties finish, na that time una go call Ayobami come help.”

Tunde’s nostrils flared. “You're insane, man. And this isn’t the first time! The last time I came here, you claimed snake enter kitchen and locked me outside for thirty minutes.”

Ayobami blinked, feigning confusion. “Snake dey kitchen that day. Or you want make e bite me before you believe?”

Tunde rose from the bed, his voice rising in frustration. “Omo, I swear I go break this spoon for your head if you don’t leave this minute.”

Ayobami slowly turned, still unconvinced. “I dey go, but if rat chop this curtain, make una no call me o. I no dey do emergency again.”

And with that, he gave one final glance under the bed before swaggering out like a hero who had just saved the day.

Silence returned briefly.

Tunde ran a hand over his face, muttering, “This house is a circus. Your father keeps the most ridiculous staff.”

Araire sighed, rubbing her temples. “Tell me about it.”

Tunde turned to her, visibly upset. “Araire, I’m tired. We can’t even kiss in peace! Every time I come, this guy shows up with some new drama. He’s either killing lizards or watering plants at 9 p.m. Now, it's rat, just imagine. Who does that?”

Araire offered a nervous chuckle. “He once ironed bedsheets at midnight while I was sleeping on the bed. What about the day he claimed cooking a ramen noodles and put tumeric and garlic in the noodles?”

“What?!” Tunde exclaimed. “This is harassment! Why hasn’t your dad fired him already?”

Araire's face fell into a resigned expression. “I’ve tried. I’ve begged, screamed, even cried once. But Daddy won’t hear of it. He says Ayobami is ‘gifted with discernment’ and that he’s loyal.”

Tunde threw his hands in the air. “Discernment? The man is a glorified nuisance! If he’s not hunting phantom rats, he’s disrupting the generator so everyone comes outside!”

“I know,” Araire said quietly, then gave a sarcastic grin. “Sometimes I wonder if he’s my dad’s spy.”

Tunde paced back and forth, visibly fuming. “Babe, this is serious. I'm not even sure he's just a steward. Something is off about him. He watches everything, he listens like a hawk. I wouldn’t be surprised if he records our conversations and sends transcripts to your father in Abuja!”

Araire laughed bitterly. “Honestly? I’ve thought the same thing.”

Tunde’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know if your dad told him to watch you?”

“He’s never said that,” she replied, then added, “But that man once reported to my dad that I came home by 11:53 p.m., not midnight. My dad called me first thing the next morning.”

Tunde shook his head in disbelief. “No, no, no. I can’t deal with this anymore. If this guy doesn’t go, I’m not coming back here.”

“Babe—” Araire started, reaching for his arm.

“No, I’m serious,” Tunde said, brushing her hand off gently but firmly. “There are limits. We’re grown adults, not secondary school students. I can’t be dodging Ayobami like he’s a dormitory prefect.”

From the kitchen, Ayobami’s voice drifted in, loud and off-key, as he sang a Fuji song with full energy:

🎶 “Rat wey no get sense wey enter lovers’ den, na broom go flog am enter heaven!” 🎶

Tunde clenched his fists, teeth gritted. “I swear, this guy wants me to commit murder.”

Araire chuckled despite herself. “He’s a menace.”

“No,” Tunde said with deep resolve. “He’s a virus in human form. And you better find antivirus quick.”

Araire laughed harder now, tears in her eyes, even as Tunde sulked.

“I’m glad you’re amused,” he said dryly.

She wiped her tears, trying to catch her breath. “I’m sorry. I just think—he’s crazy. But funny crazy.”

Tunde rolled his eyes, collapsing back onto the bed with a groan. “Babe, one day that spoon go reach my head. Just be ready to bail him.”

As they lay there, sharing frustrated laughter and awkward silence, Ayobami’s wooden spoon tapped rhythmically on the kitchen table in a triumphant beat. His eyes glinted as he peered out the door. Mission accomplished.