“Aaah…ahaa. It’s you baba VaJoe, My husband”

Lizzie was a working hard woman, and always worked an extra mile to fed her family. This day she had just coming from the fields whereby, her husband, children and her have been cultivating their maize. It was nearly lunch hour, when the finally decided to call it a day,  when on a normal day they would have continued till evening time. But the husband of Lizzie had come from town the previous day. The  separation  had always made them feel hunger for each other. To satisfy the well being of their family, the two had decided the that the husband would always work in town to earn some cash whilst he wife stayed in rural areas working in the fields to sustain the family substantially. It worked and they both enjoyed the sweat of their labour as a family.

At home the wife, Lizzie, cooked food for the family. The children gathered and ate their food from one plate, whilst the parents shared their food from their own platter. Quickly after eating the wife packed up the used utensils for washing up. She asked the children to go and fetch some water on a nearby well. The woman bent down like all other African women in rural areas when washing up the plates and pots.  She was very much engrossed as she enthusiastically washed the utensils, and little did she know someone was observing her, admiring her golden revealing thighs.

It happened  so dramatically,  that her dress was lifted up, very high that it revealed the  flesh beneath. Shocked, the woman  leapt into anger. “Who..oo are you, to lift someone ‘s wife dress?”  she flared rapidly. “Don’t touch me, did you hear me? Or  I call my husband.” she glared. I said, “leave me alone,” she kicked and scratching  violently. All along, Lizzie, has shouted angrily  without looking at the person who has grabbed her. When  she finally looked at the attacker who was still holding her as a fugitive,  she was perplexed and smiled. “Aaah….ahaa, It’s you Baba va Joe, my husband,” she uttered softly and letting her head rest peacefully in her husband’s loving arms.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s