With tears in her eyes, Kanyuni stared fearfully at the strangeness of the room she was in. The hut had only one window and one door both of which were kept tightly shut. The only light in the room came from small holes in the wall that let in the orange glow of a fire that was blazing outside. A faint aroma of roast meat still lingered in the air. Earlier, a large sullen looking woman had brought her a plate of meat and maize meal and instructed her to eat. The untouched plate was still where sheâd left it. How could she find the appetite to eat at a time like this; at a time when she had just been taken from her home and brought here and told she had just become somebodyâs wife? At first it had all seemed like a joke but in the dark, quiet room where she was confronted with goat skin draped walls and a freshly made reed bed complete with the telltale red flowers from the furthest parts of the river, the truth was starting to sinking in.
She had known that one day she would become somebodyâs wife and she even knew what her duties as a wife would be; she and her friends had been receiving lessons from the aging widow who lived at the other end of the village. In fact, for a while she had been longing for the time that she would be getting married; when she would eventually get to taste the secret food of the adults that she and her friends giggled about when bathing in the river. However, in her mind she had imagined that she would be getting married to a young, strapping warrior who had just returned from a successful raid with gifts of cattle and other livestock for her parents.
The young warrior would come to her parents and tell them that in the whole village he had found no other girl to be worthy of him except her. He parents would accept his proposal and she of course would pretend to refuse as all good girls were expected to but eventually she would âreluctantlyâ accept. On her wedding day, she would be dressed in the finest cloth acquired from the tribes far north and beads of all colours from the people from the east. The whole village would come to join them in celebration as the young men and women looked on in envy at their union. There would be plenty of song, food and drink for everyone including the envious. Finally, evening would come and her new husband would take her to his hut and at that point she could only imagine what he would do to her but she knew that she would love it and she would love him very much.
Her marriage had however been nothing like this. If anything, it had turned out to be the complete opposite. The man who had come seeking her hand in marriage was an aging man who was already starting to use a cane while walking. Instead of a pompous affair that people would stare at in envy, her wedding had been a hushed affair with only her parents and a few of their closest relatives and friends present. The old man who was to be her husband kept staring at her and grinning sheepishly throughout. Now she had been hurriedly ushered into this dark place and told to wait.
For a while she could hear them talking outside but she couldnât hear exactly what was being said all though she could hear the voice of her father and two of her uncles. They seemed to be arguing with someone. Could it be that they were arguing against the whole arrangement? She moved hopefully from the corner and tried to look through a hole in the wall but the fire outside had now been reduced to embers and she couldnât see much. Suddenly, the voices went quiet. She could hear people moving about for a moment before everything went silent. Had they failed to agree? Were they now coming for her to take her back home? The door of the room suddenly opened a bit.
She hopefully called out to her father and her favorite uncle but as the door opened the rest of the way revealing the silhouette of a shorter old man with a cane she felt her heart sink.
âNo Kanyuni itâs not them. Itâs me, your loving husband.â Fuda Wa Nyamba said as sweetly as his rough voice could.
P.S.: Part five will be posted later today. Hopefully it wonât be deleted