FIVE : Too late for regrets

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‘Work? Why does my wife need to work? I will never let my wife work. As the head of the family, I will work until my back breaks to provide for my family.’ Twenty-year-old Gershom said to eighteen-year-old Feggy.

Sitting on top of a rock late in the night, sharing an afghan blanket, the two stared at the starry sky – sharing with it their dreams and hopes.

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Hmmm. My queen will never have to work a day in her life. I will provide for you and our future children. I will be the best husband in the world – one you can be proud of.’

In the present, staring at her haggard face in the mirror, Feggy scoffed at the fourteen-year-old memory. She could not help but pity her eighteen-year-old self – hopelessly in love, believing every word that had fallen from the mouth of her first love.

His promises of forever had been sweet as honey. But as the saying goes, if you go searching for honey, expect to be stung by bees.

Who would have thought the man who had moved mountains to be with her would do a complete one-eighty?

Feggy had loved Gershom since she was seventeen. She had never imagined that the man she had adored – when he had nothing to his name but a Grade Twelve certificate – could change so completely.

Since she was seventeen, she had loved him with everything she had. She had fantasised about being Mrs. Feggy Chomba. Instead of dreaming of a career, her only goal had been to be his wife.

While in school, she had not cared much about her grades. The only career she had ever aimed for was to be Gershom’s wife. For three years after completing her secondary education, she had waited anxiously for the day he would ask for her hand – and when he did, she had been over the moon.

For ten years, she had lived a blissful life by his side. She had been proud to be a homemaker. For ten years, as she fell asleep next to him and woke beside him, she had never stopped thanking heaven for the blessing of him.

He had promised to be the best father and husband she could be proud of – and Feggy could not deny that he had been, until Yolanda. What she had always thought only happened to other women – women married to men with wandering eyes – had happened to her.

With one prick, the bubble she had lived in burst. Little had she known, his promise of forever had an expiry date. It pained her to realise the man she had adored was no different from every other man out there.

When she first found out about the affair, she had gone through every emotion imaginable. At first, she refused to believe what her own eyes were showing her.

Then she blamed herself. She convinced herself he had strayed because she had failed as a wife.

Was the intimacy not enough? Had she let her body go to the point of repulsing him? Had she not loved him enough? Had the house lost its warmth? Maybe.

But as her world crumbled in the wake of his betrayal, she arrived at the truth – she had never been at fault at all.

He had cheated because he was selfish. He had cheated because he did not respect her enough. He had cheated for his own ego.

Not a single day in ten years of marriage had she denied him his conjugal rights. Even when she was ill, unless she was on the verge of collapse, she fulfilled her duties as a wife. Feggy had long since realised that even if she could bend like a contortionist, even if she performed every position in the Kamasutra, he would still go looking outside. It was never about her.

Respect? How much more could she have given? To Feggy, Gershom had been her world – some might have even called her a husband worshipper. If she were not a steadfast Christian, one could be forgiven for thinking he was her religion. She had always put him first. She had worked hard to make their home harmonious. She had taken his family as her own. She had always taken care of her appearance.

And still – still – he had gone out and disrespected her with a woman eleven years her junior.

Feggy had many regrets.

She wished she had loved herself more.

She wished she had taken school seriously – not merely as a place to learn to read and write. She wished someone had told her that marriages come and go; that a husband may cheat on you and discard you like rubbish – but your degree, your knowledge, your skills, never will. She wished she had built herself up before she ever took her vows.

But most of all, Feggy wished someone had told her she could have had the best of both worlds. She could have been the Mrs. Somebody she had craved and still had a career. If she had a career, she would not be living like a beggar, and her children would not be living like destitutes.

Perhaps if she had had something of her own, the fury and resentment she felt towards her husband and his mistress could have been channelled into something productive. Not that it wouldn’t hurt – she was certain the helplessness of being betrayed by the person you love cuts just as deep whether you are a housewife or a career woman. She just thought she might have had less time to do all the desperate things she had done trying to win Gershom back.

‘Mom?’

Joseph’s small voice came from the doorway, pulling her back.

Feggy turned with a smile. He had peeped his head around the door, watching her carefully.

‘Joe? Everything okay?’

‘I knocked many times but you didn’t answer.’

‘I’m sorry, baby.’ She pulled him into a hug and rubbed his back.

Despite all her regrets about Gershom, one thing she had never regretted was bearing his children. They were the source of her joy. Her whole world. A living manifestation of the love she had once shared with the man who had broken her.

‘Did you want something?’

‘You have visitors.’

Feggy’s face curved into a smile. She told him to let them in – she had been expecting them. She picked up the envelope from the bed and went out to meet her guests.

They turned out to be a couple she had connected with on Facebook through a trading group called ‘Makwebo‘. They had come to buy items she had advertised in the group — electronics and bedding, most of it bought by Gershom on his many trips to Dar, all of it unused and in good condition. The couple selected a car seat, two duvets, and the 42-inch flat screen.

When they left, Feggy walked over to the shop next door and paid off her debts from the five thousand she had made. The shop owner – who also happened to be her friend – could not hide her surprise at seeing the debt cleared all at once.

‘Did ba mulamu come back to his senses?’

Feggy chuckled bitterly. ‘I wish. I took your advice and sold some of the unused things.’

She was glad she had found a way to use her time on Facebook for something constructive — rather than stalking her husband and his mistress. When she got home, she prepared lunch for the children, and while they ate, she bathed and got ready to visit the teacher Miss Mbewe had recommended at the government school.

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‘Mrs. Bunda is out at the moment and will be back in about two hours. You’re welcome to wait or come back then.’

Feggy chose to wait. The sooner the children were enrolled, the better. A month and some days had already passed since they were turned away from the private school — and since any of them had seen Gershom.

In all that time, Feggy had been homeschooling them herself. Miss Mbewe had been kind enough to lend her materials and guide her through it.

The friendly woman who had spoken to her pointed her towards the seats under the shade. Just as she was about to unstrap Bertha from her back and sit down, she heard a familiar voice call her name.

She turned – and stared in surprise. ‘Mulamu? What are you doing here?’

‘I work here.’

‘Here? Since when?’

‘I just got transferred. This is only my second week.’

Feggy had heard about the transfer but, with everything consuming her life at the time, she had not paid much attention to the family WhatsApp group discussions.

‘And you? What brings you here?’

‘Aaah — I came to see a friend,’ she said, hesitantly.

‘A friend?’ Kangwa — Gershom’s younger sister — crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. She did not believe her. She already knew why Feggy was there. She and Mrs. Bunda happened to be college friends, and before leaving that morning, Kangwa had asked her to look out for her visitor. When she saw the senior teacher speaking with her and then learned she was supposedly there to see a friend, she had drawn her own conclusion.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘What has that idiot done this time?’ Kangwa asked flatly.

Feggy gave a tight smile and looked away.

‘Feggy. So you would rather go to strangers for help than come to your own family? Why? If my brother is behaving like a fool, does that mean we stop being family? Do we not matter to you anymore?’

‘Mulamu, come on. It’s not like that.’

‘Really? Humour me then.’ Kangwa reached over and took Bertha from her, then sat beside her on the bench, waiting.

Feggy stared at her dust-covered feet in their worn-out slippers.

‘I did not want to worry anyone. I keep thinking – if I hold on a little longer, if I pray a little harder, if I fight a little more – maybe, just maybe, he will come back to us.’

Maybe she should have left the first time she found out about the affair. But she couldn’t. Despite everything he had done to her and their children, she still loved him. She did not want to raise her children in a broken home. All she could do, each night that passed and each morning that came, was hope that God had finally heard her prayers and changed his heart. But somehow, the harder she prayed, the more she hoped, the further away he seemed to drift.

She felt tears sting her eyes and blinked them away quickly. This was exactly why she had not wanted to come to his family. She would rather keep up appearances than let them see her this broken. They were his people — and she was certain that however much they seemed to be on her side now, the day would come when they would have to choose, and blood would always win.

Feggy’s tears tore at Kangwa. She clenched her fists at her sides, wishing her brother were standing right in front of her.

Yes, he was her brother, and her loyalty lay with him. But loyalty did not mean tolerating every act of stupidity. The day he had said ‘I do’ to Feggy, the day he had brought her to the family and made her one of them, she had become her sister too. And beyond that – she was a woman. She knew exactly what Feggy had endured this past year.

‘Could you keep this between us? Please don’t let Mum and Dad find out.’

Kangwa agreed, reluctantly – but only on one condition. Feggy had to tell her everything that had happened in the four months since they had last properly spoken.

After Feggy left, Kangwa made a call. It was picked up by their eldest brother in Kitwe, who had just finished his rounds in the children’s ward.

‘Hey—’

‘Bashi Henry, you need to get to Lusaka as soon as possible and sort out your brother before I do something I’ll regret.’

Henry, the eldest of four siblings, sighed. ‘What has he done now?’

Kangwa told him everything. When she finished, Henry was fuming. He promised he would make time to get to the capital. As soon as the call ended, he rang their twin brother — a manager at Dukes and Diamonds Hotel in Ndola. The two agreed to travel to Lusaka over the weekend.

In the meantime, when both brothers tried calling Gershom, neither got through.

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While Feggy sat telling Kangwa everything, on the other side of town, a lime green Vitz moved along a quiet street. Behind the wheel was a young woman who bore a strong resemblance to Feggy – her sister, Theodora. Just as she was about to turn into her yard, her eyes caught a familiar figure on the pavement.

Smiling, she rolled down the window and leaned out.

‘Ma!’

The elderly woman walking slowly along the pavement, reed basket in hand, looked up at the sound of the voice. She squinted towards it.

‘Theodora?’

Theo got out of the car, crossed the road, and went to her.

‘Ma, how have you been? Are you okay?’

The neatly dressed elderly woman reached out and touched the young woman’s face. ‘I’ve been well, my child. What are you doing home? Shouldn’t you be at work?’

‘I closed the shop early – I have a headache that won’t let up. Where are you off to?’

‘We’ve run out of a few groceries. I was going to the shops. And Kangwa will be staying with us for a while now.’

‘Oh – she told me. Ma, let me take you.’

‘But you’re not feeling well.’

‘I’ve already taken a painkiller. I’ll be fine. Ma, Lupasha Supermarket is having a mega promotion – shall I take you there?’

‘Okay.’

They crossed the road to the car. As Theo took the basket from her and helped her in, Mrs. Chomba spoke again.

‘How is that sister of yours? It seems she has been avoiding us lately – always an excuse for why she won’t bring my grandchildren to visit. Is everything alright between her and my son?’

Theo wrestled silently with how to answer. She knew Feggy did not want the family to know how bad things had become.

And she had good reason to protect them from the truth. The first time Mrs. Chomba had found out about her son’s affair with the college girl, she had collapsed from shock and spent nearly two weeks hospitalised — high blood pressure, high sugar levels. It had taken a long time to stabilise both.

‘Ma, you worry too much. They’re both fine.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, Ma.’

‘Hmm. I think I should visit them this weekend. I’ll ask Kangwa to take me.’

‘I’m sure she’d be happy to.’

Theo made a mental note to warn her sister. Their mother-in-law was perceptive – it would not take ten minutes for her to sense something was wrong. She could only hope Feggy would come up with a convincing reason to be away that weekend.

Fortunately, the roads were clear. It took just over twenty minutes to reach the mall in town. Theo helped the woman who had been a substitute mother to both sisters – ever since they lost their own parents as teenagers – to find the best discounted goods.

An hour later, Theo was pushing the trolley through the car park while Mrs. Chomba helped load the bags into the boot.

‘We forgot the spices,’ Mrs. Chomba said.

Theo offered to go back, but the elderly woman waved her off and said she would go herself. Theo took out her phone to listen to music while finishing the packing.

Before the first song could play, she heard giggling — and then a familiar voice, speaking in the sweetest, most tender tone she had ever heard him use. It was followed by more giggling, and murmurs, and laughter.

She straightened up and looked.

Three parking bays away, Gershom was kissing his mistress.

Yolanda was dressed in a denim bum short that barely covered her, a crop top leaving half her midriff exposed, and a pair of killer stilettos.

Theo felt rage twist through her chest.

Before she could open her mouth, they had already walked away – Gershom’s hand resting lovingly on the twenty-one-year-old’s bare waist.

She paced beside the car, cursing under her breath. For a full ten minutes she argued with herself.

Then she locked the car and followed them.

It took another five minutes to find them. They were in a homeware store, standing at the counter with a trolley filled to the brim with kitchen utensils.

Theo scoffed at the bitter irony. He had not been home in over a month. He had not bothered to wonder what his family was eating. And here he was – shopping for a home with his mistress, not a price tag checked between them.

As the sales assistant began packing their purchases into carrier bags, Theo walked in.

She grabbed the twenty-piece dinner set and smashed it on the floor.

The sales assistant stared at her in horror. Other customers looked on – stunned, then fascinated.

‘What the hell?’ Yolanda shrieked.

‘Justice for my sister!’ Theo hissed and reached for the set of Pyrex dishes. The sales assistant lunged for them first, but Theo was faster. Before security could reach her, the dishes were already in pieces on the floor.

‘Theodora!!’ Gershom thundered. ‘What is the meaning of this?’

‘Watumpa sana, Gershom. You think my sister has no one in her corner aii?’

He stalked towards her and gripped her by the upper arms.

‘Bitch, what the hell is wrong with you? Babe – who is this? What is her problem?’ Yolanda’s voice rose behind him. ‘Look what she did to my dishes!’

‘Bitch? Who are you calling a bitch, hule iwe? Chi homewrecker – husband snatcher – Galu woooo,’ Theo yelled, struggling against Gershom’s grip.

‘Get out of here while I’m still being civil,’ he hissed, shoving her roughly towards the door. ‘And you are paying for all of that.’

Theo laughed in his face. ‘In your dreams. If you have money to waste pali hule iyi, you can certainly afford a few broken dishes.’

Hearing her call his girlfriend a whore a second time, he lost all restraint – and slapped her hard across the face.

A collective gasp swept through the crowd. For a moment, the room was silent enough to hear the echo. Theo’s head turned to one side. She stood very still.

Then she slowly turned back to face him.

‘Is that a lie? Go ahead – hit me again. It won’t change what she is. Listen up, everyone – ‘ she raised her voice for the entire store to hear – ‘this man right here is no better than an animal. He has not been home in over a month. His children were turned away from school over unpaid fees. His wife is selling household items to put food on the table – and here he is, spending freely on pali hule iyi !’

Gershom raised his hand to strike her again.

‘Gershom!’

Mrs. Chomba’s voice rang out from the doorway like a thunderclap.

The crowd parted. She pushed through to the front, eyes blazing at her son.

She had been on her way back from the spice shop when she saw Theo walk in.

Gershom’s hand froze in the air. He stared at his mother, wordless.

In that moment of distraction, Theo shoved him off, spun around, and launched herself at Yolanda. She grabbed the woman’s hair – and found herself holding a wig as Yolanda shrieked and stumbled backwards.

Theo, cursed, threw the wig aside, and pounced. The two went down to the floor together.

As the chaos unfolded behind him, Gershom turned slowly to face his mother. Mrs. Chomba stood before him with tears streaming down her face.

‘Is it true?’

‘Ma—’

‘Is there any truth to what Theodora just said?’

‘Ma, she is exaggerating…’

A loud slap rang out across the room. The spectators watched with bated breath.

Gershom held the cheek his mother’s hand had just met. She fixed him with a look that could strip paint.

‘I will ask again. Is what Theodora said true?’

‘Ma… it’s not like that… Ma, let me take you home.’

‘Is it!!!’ Mrs. Chomba’s voice cracked as she yelled, the veins on her neck straining.

Gershom stared at the tiled floor, shamefaced, and gave a slight nod.

No sooner had he nodded than Yolanda’s voice rang out – screaming his name, begging for help.

‘Don’t you dare move!’ Mrs. Chomba warned him.

‘Ma, she is hurting her.’

Another slap landed on his face. Then another. And another. She had clearly used every ounce of her strength behind each one.

‘So what? What about your wife and children at home? Do you ever worry about them the way you are worrying about that – that – that shameless homewrecker?’

‘Ma, don’t call her that. She is the woman I love—’

Another slap cut him off before he could finish.

Meanwhile, Theo had Yolanda pinned beneath her, calling her every derogatory name she could think of while raining down slaps and punches. Yolanda was bleeding, wailing, and crying out pitifully for help.

Two security men finally reached them and hauled the furious older sister off. Around them lay the ruins of broken ceramicware.

The moment Theo was pulled away, a topless Yolanda scrambled to her feet and threw herself into Gershom’s arms, begging him to take her home. Without a word, Gershom pulled off his shirt and draped it over her – all while fixing Theo with a cold glare.

Then he turned to leave.

‘Don’t you dare walk out of here with that woman, Gershom.’

He stopped. Looked back at his mother – conflict written across his face.

Caught between his mother’s warning eyes and his mistress’s quiet, pitiful sniffling against his chest, he chose the latter.

‘Gershom!’

‘Sorry, Ma. I’ll come home later, okay? Just let me just take her home first, okay?’

Mrs. Chomba closed her eyes.

She opened her mouth to speak but no words came. She felt the strength leave her body all at once — and before she could even call out to Theo, she crumpled to the floor.

VOCAB

Mulamu – in-law [sister in law]

Banatipata — they are avoiding us / keeping their distance

Watumpa sana — you have hav become too bold/ you are very stupid

Hule iwe — you prostitute / you loose woman (strong insult)

Pali hule iyi – over this whore

Chi homewrecker / Galu — homewrecker / dog (used as an insult)

Hule iyi — this prostitute / this one here (referring to the woman)