The other option – the very last one – was death. It scared her.
But she was told it can happen. Just like that. Or, a lengthy one: a cough this week, a fever the other week, then swollen feet as the sickness progresses, a loss of mind in the very last days – something like dementia, and eventually death.
She could just choose one.
He assured her it would happen. If she was to choose the quick one, it would even happen long before she left that place. She would arrive to the news of a death.
Even for her, that option seemed evil. She said no. She was not going to settle for it.
The first one?
No, too. It seemed riskier. She would have healed someday and that would be chaotic. Also, she did not want to see that misery on the face of a mad woman knowing fully well she was behind that madness. She is a Christian and, sometimes, her religious inclination gets the better part of her.
The second one?
Yes, at least that one. It would hardly make her sad. Chances of it being traced back to her were almost non-existent. She settled for that one: make him hate her, then eventually divorce her.
But, a man cannot just wake up one morning and realise that he does not love his wife. There always must be something. There always is something.
She used that information he had told her. The wife – also known as MG1 – did not know how to draw boundaries. She flirted with a reckless familiarity. Workmates. Neighbours. Old crushes. She was there, a charming friend.
“Is it possible to make her cheat, and be found out?”
He told her it was possible, only heavy – unlike taking away her life.
No, she – the MG2 – had already given up on that path. She did not want blood on her hands.
“Just make him hate her, make him divorce her, use whatever means you can employ,” that was an order.
She paid. An indication she meant business.
He told her to go, never look back, and in a month the two will be separated.
“Was there a feeling of achievement after that?” I ask.
She says there was not. Instead, it was foggy.
“There was a part of me regretting, wanting everything reversed. Then, the other part of me reminded me that it was worth it. In all, there was a feeling that nothing would happen and, of course, if it ended up happening then it meant that God had willed it.”
“So, there is still a thinking of God around traditional medicine?”
She says there is. Highlights that this man whom she met, the traditional doctor, kept referring to God when they were talking. He is the one who said that if it happens then it means that God had willed it.
“He said it would mean that I have been a tool in the hands of God, that God himself was unhappy with the union.”
It ended up being that she was a tool in the divine machinations of God. In the third week, he called her late in the night announcing he had chased the wife – the MG1. Could he come for a sleepover?
Of course, he could – anytime.
When he came, he preferred not to talk about it – the reasons for chasing the wife. It was just enough that he was ‘finally’ rid of that woman.
“He even said finally, like he had been working on it all along,” she says, in a marvel of the work of that traditional doctor.
“Hadn’t he been, hadn’t you put it to him to leave her?”
She had ever, not directly. She had hinted that it would serve them well if he were to divorce the MG1. And, that had been such a long time that she had not bothered to raise it again. She just kept throwing it in, using parables.
In months, the two were properly divorced, property shared between them. There was a child whose custody was given to the mother, he did not contest it. He was not even sure that the child was his. And, the MG2 later learnt, it was over that child that the two had divorced.
In a spat that could have passed for usual among a married couple, she had gone overboard and had suggested he was impotent. The child was not even his.
It was that straw which broke the camel’s back.
Later efforts to revoke whatever she had said, even with promises of an actual paternity test proved futile. He just did not want to have anything to do with her. The marriage had collapsed. And, he was ready to marry again after two years.
She, the MG2, had been the woman in the picture. She had been sleeping in his bed. The houseboy called her ‘the madam’. Until he decided to move.
He did not just switch neighbourhoods. He took a job in another city. Not far. Like, perhaps, just Nkhata-Bay from Mzuzu. A thought away.
The changes started from there. He would always be busy or irritable – over nothing.
Could she visit? No, he was busy but would come over. When it came the day for coming over, something would come up.
“I realised something was wrong. But, he kept convincing me it was all in my mind.”
Somehow, he decided to just break the news. There was another woman. He was planning to marry her. And, preparations were already at an advanced stage.
The world under her feet shifted, cracked and eventually sunk in.
If one is lucky, people leave with kindness. She was unlucky. He did not leave with much kindness. He just shifted that world, watched it crack and by the time it sank in, he had walked away. To the altar, with her – the MG3.
But she was told it can happen. Just like that. Or, a lengthy one: a cough this week, a fever the other week, then swollen feet as the sickness progresses, a loss of mind in the very last days – something like dementia, and eventually death.
She could just choose one.
He assured her it would happen. If she was to choose the quick one, it would even happen long before she left that place. She would arrive to the news of a death.
Even for her, that option seemed evil. She said no. She was not going to settle for it.
The first one?
No, too. It seemed riskier. She would have healed someday and that would be chaotic. Also, she did not want to see that misery on the face of a mad woman knowing fully well she was behind that madness. She is a Christian and, sometimes, her religious inclination gets the better part of her.
The second one?
Yes, at least that one. It would hardly make her sad. Chances of it being traced back to her were almost non-existent. She settled for that one: make him hate her, then eventually divorce her.
But, a man cannot just wake up one morning and realise that he does not love his wife. There always must be something. There always is something.
She used that information he had told her. The wife – also known as MG1 – did not know how to draw boundaries. She flirted with a reckless familiarity. Workmates. Neighbours. Old crushes. She was there, a charming friend.
“Is it possible to make her cheat, and be found out?”
He told her it was possible, only heavy – unlike taking away her life.
No, she – the MG2 – had already given up on that path. She did not want blood on her hands.
“Just make him hate her, make him divorce her, use whatever means you can employ,” that was an order.
She paid. An indication she meant business.
He told her to go, never look back, and in a month the two will be separated.
“Was there a feeling of achievement after that?” I ask.
She says there was not. Instead, it was foggy.
“There was a part of me regretting, wanting everything reversed. Then, the other part of me reminded me that it was worth it. In all, there was a feeling that nothing would happen and, of course, if it ended up happening then it meant that God had willed it.”
“So, there is still a thinking of God around traditional medicine?”
She says there is. Highlights that this man whom she met, the traditional doctor, kept referring to God when they were talking. He is the one who said that if it happens then it means that God had willed it.
“He said it would mean that I have been a tool in the hands of God, that God himself was unhappy with the union.”
It ended up being that she was a tool in the divine machinations of God. In the third week, he called her late in the night announcing he had chased the wife – the MG1. Could he come for a sleepover?
Of course, he could – anytime.
When he came, he preferred not to talk about it – the reasons for chasing the wife. It was just enough that he was ‘finally’ rid of that woman.
“He even said finally, like he had been working on it all along,” she says, in a marvel of the work of that traditional doctor.
“Hadn’t he been, hadn’t you put it to him to leave her?”
She had ever, not directly. She had hinted that it would serve them well if he were to divorce the MG1. And, that had been such a long time that she had not bothered to raise it again. She just kept throwing it in, using parables.
In months, the two were properly divorced, property shared between them. There was a child whose custody was given to the mother, he did not contest it. He was not even sure that the child was his. And, the MG2 later learnt, it was over that child that the two had divorced.
In a spat that could have passed for usual among a married couple, she had gone overboard and had suggested he was impotent. The child was not even his.
It was that straw which broke the camel’s back.
Later efforts to revoke whatever she had said, even with promises of an actual paternity test proved futile. He just did not want to have anything to do with her. The marriage had collapsed. And, he was ready to marry again after two years.
She, the MG2, had been the woman in the picture. She had been sleeping in his bed. The houseboy called her ‘the madam’. Until he decided to move.
He did not just switch neighbourhoods. He took a job in another city. Not far. Like, perhaps, just Nkhata-Bay from Mzuzu. A thought away.
The changes started from there. He would always be busy or irritable – over nothing.
Could she visit? No, he was busy but would come over. When it came the day for coming over, something would come up.
“I realised something was wrong. But, he kept convincing me it was all in my mind.”
Somehow, he decided to just break the news. There was another woman. He was planning to marry her. And, preparations were already at an advanced stage.
The world under her feet shifted, cracked and eventually sunk in.
If one is lucky, people leave with kindness. She was unlucky. He did not leave with much kindness. He just shifted that world, watched it crack and by the time it sank in, he had walked away. To the altar, with her – the MG3.
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