Twelve: Tears for the old me who forgot to love herself

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‘Feggy, here. Chamomile tea. It will help settle your nerves,’ Kangwa said as she walked into the sitting room where her brothers sat with Feggy, the whole room wrapped in a mournful quiet. She carried the mug over to where Feggy stood by the window, watching the Sakalas discuss their plans with the contractors outside. One of their plans, apparently, was to construct a shop on the land. ‘Pacing and fretting will not solve anything. I have already sent the children to the neighbour. It is not good for them to see you like this.’

‘I will go and speak to Mr. Sakala. Ask if he can extend your stay by a few days. A day’s notice is not enough time to pack a life and find a new house,’ Joseph said. His lawyer friend had already told him there was nothing legally they could do except appeal to the Sakalas’ better nature.

But Feggy, who would rather spend a night on the street than under a roof that no longer belonged to her, turned from the window with red and swollen eyes and shook her head. Even though she had promised herself she would never again shed a tear over Gershom, this had broken through every wall she had built. What he had done had left a hole in her chest, and the cold was blowing straight through it.

Henry, who was barely keeping his own composure, suggested she move in with their parents. Finding a house in a single day was impossible.

Feggy dismissed the idea immediately. Their mother had only been discharged from hospital a month ago. The two weeks she had spent with high blood pressure and high sugar levels had taken their toll on everyone. Feggy could not bring herself to carry this news to a woman who was still recuperating.

‘I know Ma cannot take any more shocks,’ Henry said. ‘But we do not have to tell her the truth. We say you put the house on rent since Gershom is no longer living there, and that you are raising funds for the business.’

Feggy admitted they had a point, but her preference was to move in with Theo. The thought of being a squatter at her in-laws’ home, with her scone and fritter business barely off the ground and no way to contribute to the household, sat badly with her. She did not want to be anyone’s burden.

The siblings had already guessed this before she said a word.

‘Feggy, stop that,’ Kangwa said, walking over and resting her head against her shoulder. ‘Our offer is not charity. It is what family does. I know you are angry and hurting right now, and you have every right to be. But do not make us pay for Gershom’s mistakes.’

‘Kangwa is right,’ Joseph added. ‘And do not forget, even before you became our brother’s wife, you were already family. We cannot apologise enough for what he has done, and we know it does not take the pain away. But we need you to know we are on your side. We have always been on your side.’

Their words cut right through her. Blinking hard against the tears burning behind her eyes, Feggy apologised quietly and agreed.

With that settled, Henry called a friend to hire a canter truck. As Feggy and Kangwa packed clothes and bedding from the bedrooms and Theo wrapped the ceramics and glassware, the twins and the driver’s boys moved the heavy furniture out and loaded it into the back of the open truck.

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Some hours later, Feggy stood in the yard with a fussy Bertha in her arms, staring at the house she had called home for all her married life, tears rolling silently down her face.

She had thought this house meant something to him. It had meant everything to her.

Gershom had bought the plot a year before he proposed. By the time they married, he had only managed to put up a single-room structure, and he had built it himself, working side by side with the builder as his assistant because he could not afford to pay for the labour. After the wedding, she had worked alongside him. She had helped make the blocks, crush the stones, and ferry the sand. In their second year of marriage, they had extended to three rooms. The work was hard and the strain on them both was real, but it had been worth it. They were building something for their children.

It was only when the car importing business took off in their third year that they could finally hire professional builders to finish it properly.

And he had sold it. Signed it away like it was nothing.

Theo, who had been watching from the veranda, walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Sis, do not cry. He is not worth it.’

Feggy sighed and smiled sadly. ‘These tears are not for him. They are for the old me. The foolish old me who thought love was enough to hold a relationship together. The old me who gave away all of her love and forgot to keep any back for herself.’

‘It will be well, sis. I promise. We will get through this.’ Theo pulled her closer. ‘Did we not survive something worse than heartbreak when we lost our parents as teenagers?’

Feggy thought of them both, lost when she was just fifteen, and how she had believed that was the end of the world. ‘We did, did we not?’

Theo nodded, hugged her tight, then gently led her to the car.

Henry handed the keys to Mr. Sakala, who had been waiting outside the gate at the family’s request.

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It was almost nine in the evening when the Chomba siblings came through the doors of their parents’ house with Feggy and the children. The furniture had gone to Theo’s place. Feggy had decided she would sell the larger pieces and keep only what was necessary.

Their parents were still awake, waiting.

‘Feggy? What are you doing here at this hour?’ Mrs. Chomba asked, looking from one face to the next. Kangwa quietly ushered the children towards her room to get them ready for bed.

‘Ma, she will be staying here for a while,’ Joseph said.

Mrs. Chomba looked at her husband, puzzled, then reached for the baby in Feggy’s arms. ‘How come? Not that we are not happy to have you, you know this will always be your home.’

‘Ma, Kangwa is hardly ever here. We thought it made sense for Feggy to stay with you. None of us is comfortable leaving you alone, especially while you are still recovering. And the upside is that Feggy can put the house on rent and use the money to grow the business.’

Mrs. Irene gave her eldest child a long, measured look, then turned to her daughter-in-law. ‘Feggy, did they bully you into this?’

‘Ma, as if I would let them,’ Theo said before her sister could answer. ‘You are stuck with both of us now. You cannot get rid of us even if you tried.’

Mrs. Irene laughed warmly and turned her attention to the baby.

‘We are glad you are here,’ their father said from his chair. He had been worried about her. He was relieved she was not alone. ‘This will always be your home.’

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Later that night, long after the house had gone quiet, Mrs. Irene lay awake turning and sighing.

‘Darling?’ she called out softly, hoping he had not yet fallen asleep.

Mr. Chomba smiled in the dark. He had been listening to her sigh and shift for over an hour. ‘Hmm?’

‘What has our son done this time?’ she asked, her voice low and heavy.

A long silence passed before he answered. ‘I see you did not believe their story either.’

‘No.’

He turned to face her direction and gave her a reassuring smile she could not see. ‘I do not know yet. But I will find out tomorrow.’

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The next morning, by the time Mr. Chomba was up and dressed, all his children were already at the breakfast table.

Henry offered to drive him when he saw him heading out but Mr. Chomba waved him off and said he was only meeting an old friend at the market five roads away.

He got into a taxi instead.

Half an hour later, he stood outside what he had believed was still his son’s home. He had come to confront Gershom directly, to look him in the eye and demand he treat his wife and children with decency. But Mr. Sakala, who was overseeing the offloading of building materials from a truck out front, was the one who met him. And it was Mr. Sakala who told him he was the new owner of the property.

When he returned home, still in shock, he found his wife on the veranda with baby Bertha in her lap while Joseph and Sandra played hopscotch in the yard with the neighbours’ children.

‘What did you find out?’ she asked the moment he sat down on the stool she offered.

He looked at her sadly. ‘It is worse than we thought.’

‘No. Do not tell me he brought that woman into the marital home and chased his family out.’

‘He sold the house, Irene. That son of ours sold the house and left his family homeless.’

His wife closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath. It was indeed worse than they had thought.

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A few days later, on the morning that Joseph and Henry were to travel back to the Copperbelt, Joseph handed Feggy a small bag of money as the family sat together in the sitting room.

‘It is the money I had invested in GC Motors,’ he said. He admitted he had not understood at first where Gershom had suddenly found the funds to repay him, but now it was clear.

Feggy did not want to take it. Joseph would not hear of her refusing. He told her it was technically not even his money to give, that he had invested it on behalf of his namesake, her son. He asked her to use it wisely, for the children’s future.

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In the weeks that followed, the divorce was brought before a judge. After a few hearings, Gershom was a free man.

But in his hurry to rid himself of the wife and children he had come to see as a burden, he had not anticipated what else he would lose. The cold shoulder from his family did not relent. He tried to dismiss it, to convince himself it did not matter. It bothered him more than he would ever admit.

Yolanda, for her part, did not care. As long as she had Gershom and his money, nothing else was of any consequence.

A week after the divorce was finalised, Gershom returned to his parents’ house. He wanted his father to organise the uncles and family elders to formally go and ask for Yolanda’s hand in marriage. The sooner the lobola negotiations began, the sooner he could make her his wife.

His mother would not let him through the gate.

She spoke to him from the roadside.

‘Mom? What is this?’

‘What do you want, Gershom? Say what you have to say and leave. Feggy will be home soon. I do not want her finding you here.’

‘Her again? Ma, I am your son. How long will you treat me this way because of that woman?’

‘If you have nothing to say, I am going back inside.’

He exhaled slowly and steadied himself. ‘I have asked Yolanda to marry me.’

‘What has that got to do with us?’

‘Ma!’

‘Gershom, you should know by now that no one in this family is interested in what you do with that woman.’

‘I am going to marry her. Whether you like it or not.’

‘Congratulations then. Is there anything else?’

‘I need Dad to organise the family elders to go and formally ask for her hand.’

The answer was no. Without discussion.

Gershom was hurt in a way he had not expected. He told himself Feggy was behind it, that she was poisoning them against him. His resentment towards her grew. He could not understand how a family could take the side of a stranger over their own blood.

Desperate to make Yolanda happy, he reached out to extended family. Most wanted nothing to do with the arrangement. The only relatives who agreed were distant ones from his father’s side, men he had not seen since childhood. Their help did not come without a cost.

A month after the divorce, Yolanda had her chilanga mulilo. She streamed it live on Facebook from beginning to end.

A week later came the kitchen party. Wanting to make sure Feggy saw everything, Yolanda posted the pictures from Gershom’s account and tagged his family members, knowing most of them were connected to Feggy. At the party, Sofia’s family played the role of Yolanda’s own. When the time came to give gifts to the mothers, the gift meant for Mrs. Nyoni went to Sofia’s mother instead. Mrs. Nyoni had already cut all ties with her daughter.

A few months later, the pool was finished. A week after that, Yolanda sent out the baby shower invitations. She delivered the card to the Chomba residence herself.

She was certain that once the baby arrived, anger would soften and Gershom would be forgiven. She prayed for it, which was unusual for her. She needed the family back on his side. She needed Feggy out of that house. As long as Feggy was living under the same roof as Gershom’s parents, Yolanda would never feel secure. The only family she intended Gershom to acknowledge would be her and their child.

On the day of the baby shower, she waited for someone, anyone, from Gershom’s immediate family to arrive.

Only his distant relatives came. The ones even he struggled to explain his connection to.

A month later, Yolanda went into labour and gave birth to a baby girl.

They named her Karen-Irene Chomba, after both grandmothers.

They both hoped the gesture would soften hearts. That the family would look at this child, carrying their names, and relent.

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© Ponda

VOCAB

Chilanga mulilo — a traditional pre-wedding ceremony in Zambian culture where the bride is introduced to cooking and domestic traditions; a celebration marking the beginning of the wedding process

Canter truck — a medium-sized flatbed or open truck commonly used for moving furniture and goods in Zambia

Lobola — bride price; goods or money formally presented by the groom’s family to the bride’s family