©
I stared bleakly at this dark place they called a prison, i
could hear the chants from outside the small peep hole that was mistaken for a
window.....they were calling for my head.
The voices seemed to rise in unison as the dawn approached ,
I could smell their vicious rage ,their blood running hot calling for my head ,
i did not even flinch when the key turned as the warder came in to usher me to
my ceremonious death,i was already filled with unimaginable pain "where is
joe? why won’t he come.." i wondered.
This was not how i was supposed to end up, dressed in a
loose fitting grey dress, the stench from sleeping in my own waste seemed
unapparent to the eager onlookers that peered from the prison walls, watching
the blasphemous adulterer walk to meet the hangman, my death would be their
salvation, my head severed would act as a warning to other heathens, the
Village remedy for defilement by the gods. Sorrow and dread escaped me, my life
till i met him had been an ominous existence of living without cause, I had no
choice in who i married, where i slept nor what i wore. It was a life devoid of
any freewill. Death would be an escape much longed for and an end to a journey
that had drained me of all desire.
Two weeks ago things were different i remember the exact
moment i met him, The day began like most of my days, uneventful i had decided
it was time to teach my last daughter the rites of passage, the long coarse
road to the village stream that would be her pathway for days on end.
Her excitement as she walked beside me on our way home was
almost contagious and yet her innocent shrill laughter saddened me, this was
not what her young eyes should look up to, daily trips under the hot sun to a
stream on the other side of her habitat, barefoot without protection from the
rough stones and parched dirt which would burn her bare feet, endless trips
with clay pots of water on top our heads, that was the way of the mamba women.
Her voice echoed in the wind as she chattered excitedly
about the water, her young eyes could not make out the pile of dirt that had
piled along the stream's banks. mounds of dirt evidence of a location that was
a meeting point for dirty clothes, dirty plates, dirty bodies and worse off
dirty excrete, her nose was not yet familiar with the pungent smell of excreta
mixed with urine as we tiptoed across the rocks, placing our calabash so
delicately to scoop running water that could pass for clean in this parts. As i
approached my house i paused in surprise when i saw a stranger sitting with my
husband on our stools outside the hut. I felt his gaze before i looked upon his
face, dark eyes peering at me behind a hooded cloth, i should have run away
then, the heat i felt beneath my legs had nothing to do with the scorching sun
burning my back.
I could not wait to hear the introductions my husband made,
i could not breathe i refused to meet his eyes darting into the security of my
room as i got myself together, who was this stranger that made me feel this way
without speaking a single word? I wondered aloud.
In the days that followed
he became my tormentor, a serpent camouflaged with the looks of a man,
he became a regular caller to our abode, bringing gifts, always looking at me
intensely without saying a word, my husband was oblivious, drunk from the
strangers gift of wine he welcomed this man, always with a smile , my husband’s
dim witted demeanor was not surprising , he cared more for his belly than he
did his family , he would sell me off to the highest bidder if they asked but
the stranger never asked....he never asked me my name...never asked me my
thoughts...never asked for things it was unholy for a married woman to want to
be asked for but i so wanted to be asked, once in a while i would tip toe
across the mat that served as a door to our entrance, my ears marveled at the
sound of his voice , soft yet masculine, he spoke so little but i perceived
there was something more this stranger wanted. For fear of my husband's lashing
i asked no questions, yet my head seemed as if it would burst with curiosity
and something else.
It was five moons after the first day i saw him, i counted
with the pebbles at the back of our hut. That fateful day my husband had
dragged himself out of the house, taking the children with him.
He left me alone in our hut, an act i found most unusual but
i welcomed the solitude, my eyelids drooped in fatigue as i lay on my mat,
staring up at the thatched roof feeling the slight drowsiness of sleep, suddenly
a thought crossed my mind, by fate or by choice i know not but i suddenly
became restless, surely the stranger would make his way to our hut when the Sun
began its descent to make way for the moon I thought out loud.
Sleep had been replaced with anxiousness, eagerly waiting
for the footsteps i knew were sure to come, and then just as the chickens
signaled he came, his footsteps light and sure, stopped by the entrance to our
hut, i should have stayed in my room, i should have pretended not to hear him
but he called out to me. Gripped with fear and excitement i wondered how he
could possibly know my name. I stepped out nervously and saw him fully for the first time, His skin
was not as black as ours, light like chocolate and tall like the palm tree he
stared at me intently not speaking for what seemed like an eternity,
"I've come for you" i heard him whisper and slowly
he walked into my abode.
The house trembled as if in unison to my heart beat, I had
never been this close to a man not my kin and not my husband, I stumbled with
the words to say but words failed me, I was
afraid and yet an unexplained emotion held me captive.
“my master is not here " I conceded , eyes boring into
mine ,he smiled and whispered.
"i am not here for him, i am here for you." his
long frame seemed to relax with the wind, eyes never leaving mine , he slowly
made his way towards me.
"i don't even know your name" was what i could
mutter . He stopped and i swear a shadow came over my abode , "joe"
he whispered his voice like sweet honey on my skin , when he reached for me i
did not resist, i stopped thinking when his lips touched mine and so it begun
like a drunk obsessed with drink i sought his every touch, he would call out to
me in my sleep and i would heed his call walking into the night, he made love
to me on the leaves, on the bed, by the stream every day i felt my soul
slipping into dark territories but i could not stop. I would not stop.
That night as he tore into me he whispered "would you
die for this" and i screamed "yes" exploding into a million
pieces as i climaxed underneath him. That was how they found me, half naked,
exhausted with a smile on my lips and no lover in sight, the humans came for
me.
"witch" they called out, the men with their lamp
stands , "you come into the forest every night to sleep with the
spirits" i said nothing, i was beyond their salvation, they dragged me
half naked through the village and taunted me with names i cared not about ,
the only thought that crossed my mind was where is joe? Was he a man or was he
a spirit, would he abandon me to the rope of the hang man.
The crowd was unruly , for nights they had heard a maiden
making ungodly noises in the forests and sought me out in fear, finding me half
naked after the throes of love making with no lover in sight they had made up
their mind. I was the curse that plagued them at night , i had broken tradition
by coupling with the gods i was an anomaly that should be removed, i stood
condemned to die in fear wondering if they were right, wondering if truly i had
been bewitched by the dark eyes of a ghost as i sought him out with my eyes
"where is joe"
They repeated questions they had asked me since they found
me "confess your sins and be saved " and i stood frightened, who
would believe me , what would i say? That i had fallen for the charms of a
light skinned stranger who had disappeared, that i would gladly die to be in
his arms one last time.
So before the hangman put the cloth around my neck they
asked me to say my last words and i said "you tell joe thank you for
showing me how to love before i meet my maker" and then i saw him,
towering over the crowd he came for me, still hooded, still mysterious and no
one could dare lift a finger, he took me into his arms and whispered in my ears
"I've come for you, the pain you knew you would know no more."
And so she died the quiet maiden with a smile on her lips
before her strength had left, Human or Witch we knew not what she was but her
last words were JOE.
Comments
Post a Comment