Yesterday something really awful happened to two white women, one of them looked like she was in her 40’s or 50’s, the other looked a lot older, probably in her 60’s or 70’s. They were parked for a while outside our cottage, mortified and literally stranded and it was all my fault. Actually had my Papa not have died, yesterday’s awful situation would have never happened.
I mention that the women were white because lately, over the past few months since I started writing the Meghan Markle series, I have changed my mind a lot about white people and what I’ve always been taught about them. I’ve found myself feeling so loved in their company, so understood that it’s changed my perspective on a lot of things I used to believe. As I always mention, I’ve suffered more hatred and racism from black people than I’ve ever suffered from white people. So in a way, as strange as this sounds, the fact that these two women were white made me more remorseful, I felt like it was my own KIND whom I had hurt.
Yes, hurting these two lovely white women crushed my heart. As they were about to drive off, one of them knocked on our door, or banged it rather and shouted at my husband. “This is what you have done to us! You should be ashamed of yourself!” Her voice was so broken, like she was about to cry. She then stormed off to her car. I told my husband I had to go and speak to them, he was just standing at the door, looking so lost, feeling so bad. It was just horrible. Because none of what happened was intentional.
I rushed to the door, “Let me to speak to them.” I told my husband.
“Just leave it love, there is no point.” My husband tried to stop me.
“I have to, please let me.” I ran to their car, and signalled for them to drop the window. They did.
“I know this won’t make a difference to your situation, but I want you to know I’m truly sorry from the bottom of my heart.”
“Is he your husband? Is his name Kofi? I spoke to him! He knew I was coming.” One of the ladies said to me. The other seemed so angry, like she was fighting back tears, but she somehow nodded at my apology, like she saw my sincerity but was angry, and struggling to accept my sorry because sorry meant nothing at that point, it wasn’t going to help them.
I was about to tell them that it wasn’t my husband’s fault, he was a good HOST, and cared so much about his guests, but rather everything was my fault because a month after my father’s death I was still refusing to accept that he was gone. I wanted to tell them that I had lost my Father, and my husband had been so burdened, so confused in trying to comfort me, it had affected his work. He had not been himself lately, and completely forgetting that he had a booking was so unlike him.
But before I said everything I wanted to say, one of the ladies’ phone rang, and she told me she had to go, and took the call. I went back into the house so mortified that I couldn’t do anything to change the terrible situation.
“Thank you sweetheart for talking to them,” my husband said to me. “You made a difference.” He praised me.
“I don’t think so. They are completely helpless Nino. What a dreadful situation. They are more righteous than me, because if it was me in that situation, I would have kicked off, and said a lot of words to the host. But they are just sat there, completely devastated and stranded, and they haven’t shouted insults at us.”
These two women had driven for hours to the North of England to come to our cottage in Seaham, which is a little tourist sea side attraction in the heart of the North East. Because of the pandemic, and people now holidaying in the UK, my husband’s air BnB’s have been booming so much he gets bookings every day. In fact he says he doesn’t have enough properties for this thriving business.
Our cottage in Seaham is a little hotspot for tourists, but it needed a complete renovation, so my husband has been renovating it over the past few months because of how popular it is, he wanted to make it 5 star. When he bought it, it was like a slum, as one guest even said. Though it’s not completely finished, its now liveable, and my husband opened it for bookings because of the high demand.
However, since my Papa died of Covid suddenly last month, I’ve been so overwhelmed with grief, so broken to the point of despair. My husband has been so worried about me, so much it’s affected his work. He is the most amazing host, he cares too much about his guests , I even tell him he needs to tone it down a bit , “They are just strangers”, I tell him.
“No they are guests”, he tells me, “When they come to my properties, I want them to have an experience.” So he even buys very expensive furniture, and I tell him that “No you can’t do that baby, this is a delicate piece of furniture not meant for an Air BnB. The strangers won’t care, they will destroy the furniture and won’t take care of it .” So sometimes I take the furniture he buys for his serviced apartments, and put it in my house instead, because I tell him it’s not appropriate, it’s too nice for strangers, I say.
So this terrible incident which happened yesterday was completely my fault. On Tuesday after I wrote a blog about my brother Lloyd Gasho, I was so broken and really struggling to cope. In fact my husband decided to find me a grief and childhood trauma counsellor and specialist. He didn’t know how to even help me because I had told myself I will mourn my father forever and will never remove my garments of mourning.
So on Tuesday, my husband was coming to Seaham, where he had been staying occasionally renovating the cottage. He then decided that I needed to leave my house, and change environment and come to Seaham.
Seaham is very special to me, because I’m in love with the cottage and the feel of the place. Also because I love birds, as I truly believe they speak to me, well I speak to them more I suppose. When I was a child growing up in Zimbabwe, an animal Kingdom, I used to believe I can talk to animals. As a priestess of dreams, I see little birds in my dreams and they whisper mysterious secrets in my ears, in fact most things I know and write about Meghan Markle, the little birds tell me. The little birds tell me she’s a wicked woman with a satanic spirit in her. So yeah, birds are very special to me.
So in Seaham, in my backyard, there is a little black bird who lives in the shed. Her name is Tilly as I call her. I talk to her a lot, and she doesn’t run away, she loves it at our cottage. So my husband noticed Tilly had some eggs in her nest, and that’s one of the reasons he brought me to Seaham during this time of mourning.
He also wanted me to see all the work he’s been doing. The place look so good already. He wanted me to Mary-Tamar it and put all my quirky things to give it that touch that he so loves about me.
So on Tuesday when I got here, I loved it so much I didn’t want to go back home. My husband then cancelled some bookings, but somehow he overlooked and completely forgot about the booking yesterday.
But then yesterday happened, and I felt so bad because everything was my fault. What was so horrible about yesterday was that my husband had spoken to the lady last week , and she was so excited about coming to our cottage. She had told my husband that she was coming to do hiking and all. She had asked my husband about the property and he had told her everything, that it was in the process of being renovated but it was lovely already. He told her about the back yard and all. He was so happy to host her.
So yesterday when she knocked on our front door and my husband had to tell her that the place wasn’t available, it was a complete shock to her, she felt scammed and I didn’t blame her. We couldn’t leave immediately and get the place ready for them, it just wasn’t realistic or possible. Sadly she had been trying to call my husband all day yesterday, to enquire about check-in and everything. But off all days, something crazy happened to my husband’s phone yesterday, he woke up and his phone had crashed and his SIM card stopped working. It’s stressed him so much because it’s his business line. So yesterday even another booking at another property was messed up because my husband was unreachable, his cleaner couldn’t get hold of him. One guest ended up fighting with his cleaner refusing to check out, and the cleaner couldn’t get hold of my husband. So a guest turning up on his door was just the last thing he needed.
The terrible situation which happened to these two lovely ladies was literally beyond my husband’s control, but to them it looked so deliberate and unprofessional. And I hated the fact that they may have thought that because he’s black, he is a scam and the property is not even a serviced apartment.
For a while now my husband has been so overburdened with work. He manages 10 properties on his own. Over the past weeks, he has been interviewing people for a personal assistant to help him take the load off, but he has been struggling to find the right person with the right mindset.
So on top of worrying about me as I grieve, he also needs someone to worry about him and help him. Even his second wife has realised it, that since my Papa died, my husband has been completely broken and not himself and she gave him his space and encouraged him to be there for me, which he has done. But in so doing his business has suffered. I really pray that soon enough he finds his perfect personal assistant, to help him and make work better for him.
I really hope to God that somehow those two ladies from yesterday read this essay, maybe a little bird will make them read this. I believe in miracles. I’m truly sorry my lovely ladies, you didn’t deserve to have your holiday ruined, but h had my Papa not have died, you would have been here this weekend, enjoying the glory of Beaming Paradise. And my husband Kofi would have gone out of his way to make you feel at home…he is that kind of a host, so kind and accommodating.
So please take comfort in humanity, that as you lost out on your perfect weekend and your holiday was ruined, a woman who is mourning the sudden loss of her Father during this cruel pandemic is being comforted in your perfect holiday home, and she has not had any breakdown since she got there. I hope that will mean something to you. That maybe God wanted you to sacrifice for me.
And I’m glad that Booking.com refunded your money. My husband told me they found you another place, I pray this Sabbath that you have a beautiful weekend despite the shock and disappointment yesterday… and most importantly I pray you forgive my kind husband and book his properties again in the future.
May the Lord of Sabbath be with you
The Genesis of the Revelation by
Mary-Tamar was Jean