Chapter 1: Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

It had been sunny in the afternoon to the extent that the community wished there would be a respite and as fate would have it around fifteen minutes after three, the respite came. The weather made a dramatic change as a roaring sound erupted from nowhere and it began to grow louder until large drops of rain started to fall onto the parched earth. Cythera was expectant as she pounded yam for her husband. She planned to prepare vegetable soup with the pumpkin and deer meats he brought home the other evening. “I believe this would win his heart.” She pondered with a mischievous smile as she wiped the sweat from her brows. Her fifteen years old daughter, Cynthia was busy pounding yam with her. The sound of the rain as it beats the roof of the kitchen sent shivers down her spine. She told her daughter to hurry up because Azar, her husband would soon arrive from his business place. Cynthia smiled at her mother and continued with what she was doing.

Azar returned from his place of work drenched in the rain. He parked his scooter beside the house while his wife prepared a warm bath for him after which he settled to a dinner of pounded yam and vegetable soup with pumpkin and deer meats. He ate with relish and grunted satisfactorily after eating. He did not say anything but relaxed by crossing his legs and pricked his teeth with a toothpick while his daughter packed the used plates. Cythera was not surprised by his lukewarm attitude because she knew he was an introvert. He hardly talks even when she asked him how he found the meal, he simply grunted like a pig and belched noisily.

Around eight-thirty in the night, the rain was still pelting down in high torrents, she went and took a warm bath after which she put on a revealing white lacy nightgown and joined her husband on the bed after making sure everywhere was locked up and Cynthia had retired to her room.

She snuggled close to him and when he did not stir, she used her right hand to tangle his hair and gently stroke him with expectations and longings, still, he was unresponsive. As her hands travelled down to his abdomen, he roughly pushed her hands away, “What is the meaning of this rubbish?” he snapped irritably.

“What I’m doing is not rubbish; you are my husband for crying out loud.” She said gently with an inviting smile lurking at the corner of her lips. She had resolved not to be daunted by any wrong step he might want to take to spoil her mood. So, unmoved by his outburst, she moved closer to him again and tried to wrap her arms around him, but he vehemently pushed her away.

“Why won’t you allow me to sleep this night you this woman?” he snarled with perplexity, “The bed is big enough to contain both of us. Isn’t it?”

She shivered involuntarily as the torrential downpour continued unabated and still undaunted by his outburst, she smiled seductively at him, “My husband, what have I done wrong? The weather is cold, and I believe this is one moment we should not deny ourselves our conjugal rights. Don’t you think so?”

“Which conjugal right?” he retorted, “The one we have been doing, what have been the results?” he asked harshly, “Is it not like pouring water into a basket?”

“That doesn’t mean we should give up. Does it?” she asked cheerfully,

“Tell me, if you are in my shoes, won’t you give up? After three attempts, the first was a stillbirth, the second gave up after four months and the third attempt is the only surviving one and all of them are females. If you are in my shoes, what will you do?”

“My husband, if I’m in your shoes, I won’t give up because it is not over until it is over.” She answered, still trying to maintain her calm composure. “Nothing good comes easy, please, my dear, we are still young; don’t let us give up at this stage.”

“Listen, Cythera, I’m not ready to waste my precious seed again; I will prefer to sow where the soil is fertile!” he said with a note of finality and turned the other side.

“Please, my husband, I am supposed to be the one discouraged here...” she said and snuggled closer to him again, “Don’t let us give up at this point because we don’t know when the Almighty God will answer us.”

He sat up angrily, “If you won’t allow me to sleep, I will leave the room for you!” he stormed out of the room, while she watched him walked away with a sickly feeling inside of her.

Silent tears seeped from her eyes as she shivered and hugged herself on the bed. “Have I not made a mistake in the choice of a husband? Have I not married the wrong man?” she pondered meditatively, “What have I done wrong? Help me, gods of our land.” She began to reminiscence on how it all started.

It happened that many years ago, as a maiden, she was the colossus of all eyes in Kuburin Kingdom, out of all the eligible suitors she opted for Azar because he was more enterprising, brave, and generous, and above all, he was a good friend of her elder brother Nilas whom she held in high esteem. He came highly recommended, so, when she finally accepted him, her parents did not hesitate in giving their consents. They had gotten married with pomp and pageantry and the first year was blissful for the new couple until she gave birth to a stillborn. She was devastated but Azar stood by her and comforted her. Some months later, she conceived again and gave birth to another girl whom they christened Cindy; she died after four months, that was when Azar started behaving funny as if the fault was her own. After some months again, she conceived, and Cynthia was born. Cynthia was now fifteen years old, but the home had lost its bliss because all attempts for her to conceive again proved abortive.

●●●

Azar was no longer the loving husband she got married to; despite all her efforts to pleased him, they were all rebuffed. He was enterprising quite alright, and he had the wealth to show for it, but he was neither a loving father to their daughter nor a loving husband to Cythera. He kept late nights and at times comes home drunk which was having a psychological effect on his daughter.

She had complained to her elder brother, Nilas who called him and spoke to him, he composed himself for some months after which he relapsed again. She went to meet his parents and her parents to no avail.

Out of desperation to save her marriage, she decided to visit a priest with the hope that at least if she can have a male child, she would be able to win her husband’s affections back. The first priest she visited was in the capital city of Kubuma where she was told to exercise patience that she would have a male child in due time. She was not convinced so she went to another one whom she was told was very powerful. It was the second priest who gave her some concoctions to eat for seven days and on the eighth day, she should make sure she meets with her husband. It was that eighth day that it rained, and she was trying to get close to Azar but he was rebuffing her advances.

Meanwhile, outside the house, the wind was howling above the deafening sound of the rains striking the roof. “This man will not kill me!” she rasped and braced up for confrontation as she got up from the bed and went to meet him in the living room. “My husband, please come to the bed, you must meet me this night!” she said with determination and went to him where he was lying on the sofa and stood looking down at him with a bitter face. A dimly lit lantern gave illumination in the living room.

“Are you going to force me to meet you?” he asked angrily as he swung his legs onto the floor and sat up.

“I’m not going to force you, but you don’t know when God will bless us with our heart desire, maybe it is this night.” The tears which had been forming in her eyes spilled over and trickled down her cheeks.

“It’s like you don’t get it! You cannot have a male child!!” he barked, “Your previous issues have all been females. Isn’t it? I do not have the time for frivolities again. Please, let me be.”

“My husband, how can you talk like this?” she asked with bewilderment, “Are you the Lord? How can you talk like that?”

He hissed contemptuously and lay down again. She turned away from him and went to another sofa where she sat sniffing. She remembered the instruction of the priest that her husband must meet her on the eighth day of talking the concoction if she wanted to have a male child. As if propelled, she stood up and went to meet him on the sofa. She made for his trousers, “I’m your wife and I have my rights as a wife; you must meet me this night!!” she cried savagely.

Azar gave her two slaps in quick successions on her cheeks and she fell, weeping uncontrollably, “Are you mad?” he glared at her, his eyes smouldering with anger, “You want to rape me?”

Her chest heaved up and down as she wept hopelessly, “What has gotten over you?” he thundered angrily,

“Don’t worry, I will leave the house for you, it is because you are seeing me at home, that is why you can smear me with rubbish!” he went inside his bedroom, changed his clothes, and dashed into the rain. The next she heard was the sound of his scooter as he kicked it to life and drove away.

After he had gone, Cynthia emerged from her bedroom with tear-filled eyes and went to comfort her mother.

PART A