The Bride Price: An African Romance (Chitundu Chronicles) Page 7

  “Sure.”

  The day broke with the heat of the sun on their courtyard. Lilies were bathed in sun and birds of paradise were almost painful in their beauty. Myrna had never felt more beautiful, and Festal reveled in the passion he had roused in her. He had breakfast, and then left for the fields.

  As he was out in the pastures with his fellows, the beast of jealousy began to gnaw at his innards. He coveted the very sight of Myrna’s body, recalling the first time he saw it. He had been questioning whether he should marry the girl. She seemed so aloof and disinterested in him, wearing her shapeless school uniform and using her prissy manners at the table with her fork and knife. He was ready to leave the Chitundu’s home and head back to Copperfine that morning in December, when Dodge pulled him over to a hiding place outside the bathing room at her parents’ home. There the two men crouched and watched her strip off her uniform, seeing her ripeness and her innocence as she soaped and lathered her supple young body, the ringlets of her hair and the bubbles of white shampoo cascading over her breasts and down her thighs. She knelt in her little bathing tub with perfect balance, her arms reaching up to squeeze the water from her hair, her buttocks shimmering with the water and filtered sun.

  He had been captive to the intensity of the lust that her slim form and upturned breasts had roused in him, and in Dodge. This image of her beauty was now layered over with the pleasure he had known in their lovemaking the previous night. He could not bear to have anyone mention her name, for fear that what he had discovered and won would be taken from him. Everyone wanted to talk about her and congratulate him on his woman. He wanted no one to see or touch her, even in their imagination. The passion he felt at the thought of someone taking her from him made his eyes fevered with arousal and fury.

  When he returned to the rondavel, Festal was fretful and could not be easily soothed. The more Myrna stroked him and tried to please him, the more disturbed he became. At last, she realized that he was unbalanced by the passion they had enjoyed, and she concentrated on doing small errands around the house. There was a tear to be mended in the pants he wore. She pulled out a pretty little sewing basket and began mending the rip. As Festal watched her, he calmed and could again control the searing passion rising in him. He came close to her and breathed in her scent, then he pulled the pants from her lap and laid her body against his hardness like a shield. She did not resist his embraces, nor did she return them. Instinct made her submit and let him bring her to desire by moving against her, stroking her until she could not resist him. She allowed him to unfasten the buttons on her blouse and pull it from her breasts. She was wearing the white lace bra, but made no effort to remove it, letting him root at the valley between her full breasts until he begged her to help him get it off. Then she slowly pulled the straps down and let him unwrap her beauty, slowly unhooking the back until it slid down her now naked body.

  Festal was fully aroused when he pulled her pliant form against him. He plunged into her heat and she felt the searing sharpness of his manhood. He rocked her again and again until he was spent and she was warmed and soothed, falling into a satisfied sleep.

  In the morning when she woke, Festal made her a cup of tea and watched as she sipped it, her lids heavy with love and slumber. She let her hot tongue touch his forehead as he leaned over her before leaving for the fields. He was sated with her smell and her languorous goodbye. Evening could not come soon enough

  That night, after he finished cleaning up and came to his mat beside her bed, Festal was looking a little sheepish as he pulled a tiny impala he had carved from his pocket. He watched Myrna’s eyes as she felt it and accepted it. She pulled a black waxed thong from her sewing basket and tied it neatly to the slim mahogany charm. Then she put it over her mane of loose curls and let it drop between her breasts. She did not say thank you, or compliment him in any way. She simply opened her arms and her legs to him and took him in. He was hard in an instant and she moaned in pure pleasure at his response to her invitation.

  Festal left the next morning for her brother’s wedding, carrying her image in his mind so that all he had to do was sniff the scarf she had given him and he could recall the pleasure of her love and picture the love amulet he had carved suspended between her breasts.

  CHAPTER 14

  HOSPITALITY

  Dodge met Festal at the station and took him to the small stone church where the wedding of Stephen and Esther would take place. Violet was the maid of honor and dressed in a florid pink dress that matched the flowers the bride carried. Esther was much shorter than her husband Stephen, and her curvaceous figure was overwhelmed by the tulle and ruffles of the dress she wore. Her full breasts bobbled at the neckline and the train of the gown dragged behind. Festal took in the details, thinking how little he recalled of his own wedding, other than the beauty of his bride coming down the aisle in her simple white gown, ready to take his hand. He made himself pay attention to details so he could share them when he returned home. When the ceremony was over, Violet stayed close to him, asking how Myrna liked the ranch.

  “She is doing well. The calves and my dogs love her and the neighbors say I have done well. I am happy.”

  Violet pressed a small envelope into his hand to take to her sister, along with a photo of herself and of Joseph. Festal met Joseph, the young man interested in Violet. He was friendly, even cordial to him, as they discussed the market for beef, and what the best foodstuffs were, and how best to preserve them. Joseph was interested in the possibility of making cheeses, and wondered if there were mushrooms growing in the Copperfine region. Finally, Violet reclaimed Joseph, who was enjoying his conversation. Festal greeted the parents, and saw the new baby Jethro. He had carved a small bull for the baby and gave it to Beatrice. When he was ready to leave, Joseph gave him a bolt of fine chambray to take to his wife. It was bulky and cost Festal extra on the bus ride, but he carried his trophy home to his wife with pride.

  Pilar and Selina, Winnie’s daughters, stopped by Myrna’s house one afternoon when Festal was away and spent a couple of hours with her, talking about Blancville, and how it was at the school she had attended. She told them about her tutor, her sister, and the classes she had taken. They were fascinated by her biology book and wanted to look at all the pictures in it. Myrna saw that they were shy about what they saw. They couldn’t think of any questions to ask her. They would have some talking to do with each other when they were alone, she was sure. Then the three of them took turns playing mancala and munching on popcorn she made for them. When they returned home, they made such a fuss about going over to visit again soon, but had so little information about Myrna, other than what a kind and beautiful woman she was, how she was just their age and could make patterns from anything she saw. Winnie discouraged them from visiting again. This was not the report she wanted to hear. She would have to visit the woman herself and form her own opinion.

  Myrna and Festal had been getting to know each other and arranging their household to meet their needs. They had not visited the neighbors who had welcomed her to the cattle station. During Festal’s absence, Myrna prepared small gifts of dried teas and fragrant spices, such as the cinnamon that grew at the edge of her father’s brickyard. She tied up sachets of them with ribbons and took one to each of the neighbors, spending a little time with each one, getting acquainted while their men were away with the livestock. She wanted to know what life was like on the cattle station. Her closest neighbor, Lottie, welcomed her warmly. She had two children already and it looked like another was on the way. Myrna offered to watch her children if Lottie needed to get away for a bit. Lottie laughed at the offer.

  “You will know soon enough how good it is to have another hand willing to do that. I have to take the two of them with me to the privy just to make sure we don’t have one fall into the cooking fire. You are so blessed to have a man who planned ahead and put a wall around your kitchen.”

  “Is that right? Don’t most of the houses have a protected place to cook?�
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  “No. It’s a shame but that is a big cause of accidents with the young children. They trip on the firewood and fall into the cook fire, or play with the fire, then get burned. There is little we can do to save them as the burns get infected.”

  “I am going to really watch that,” Myrna said, wondering why the woman had realized the danger of a child’s getting burned, but did not build a wall around her own fire pit. She would ask Festal about it when he came home and whether something could be done.

  “Thank you so much for the bit of spice. I will put it in my soap I am making this month. I do like a soap that has a smell to it.”

  “I would like you to teach me how to make soap. I have never done that.”

  Lottie agreed, and with that promise, the two women parted. They would exchange many duties and recipes over the next years. People stayed put in cattle country and once you had a friend, it was almost as good as having a diary, since they would remind you what you had said, what the situation had been, and what they had advised you. For sure, they would have a proverb to highlight the meaning.

  The visit to the next neighbor was troubling. Alicia had invited Myrna to go to the local church with her while Festal was away. She dressed and waited for Alicia to come by for her, but the woman did not show up. When Myrna saw it was getting late, she walked over to the woman’s house. There she saw Alicia inside the doorway, and heard the children crying. The husband was sitting on the stoop just outside the doorway.

  “What are you coming over here to snoop where you are not invited? Can’t your husband take care of you without you sneaking around?” He did not invite her in, nor did Alicia dare to respond. Myrna could see her peering out and the cartons of sorghum beer lying scattered on the ground. She immediately turned back to her house and did not attend church that day.

  Monday was wash day. Alicia was at the river gathering water, her eyes were swollen and she carried her arm in a makeshift sling. Her youngest child hung on her back No one said anything about it, but they helped her lift her bucket to her head and balance it with a rolled towel. Alicia was a quiet woman who seldom spoke up, and Myrna realized that she would never have known what her life was like if she had not happened upon the scene that Sunday morning. She knew better than to tell Festal about it because he would worry that she could have been assaulted as well, and he might restrict her from going out to pay visits, especially when he was away. She had learned not to add to his worries.

  One by one, the guests who had brought her welcoming gifts were greeted and each given a small token of appreciation. One house that Myrna visited was at the end of the path, the property overlooking the valley from three sides. It turned out to be the house of the local fetish priest, Emmanuel Kafuma. His wife was not at home when Myrna came to call, but he would let her know she had stopped by.

  As soon as her husband told her the news, Winnie was pumping him for a description of the woman.

  “She is tall, healthy, and young. You don’t need to be getting into her business. You will meet her soon enough. She is going to be a big part of this community, I tell you.”

  “I thought I would have the girls get to know her. She is educated and may be able to teach them a skill.”

  “You can teach them any skills they will need. Don’t get them thinking above what they are. Not every girl can be like her.”

  Winnie needed to know what it was this woman possessed that she lacked. Festal had eluded her and she would find out why. She began to plan how she could ingratiate herself to the woman to get her daughters aligned with her because she believed what her husband said, this woman would be a force in their community. This time, she would give them some coaching as to what to ask and say, and a gift to present.

  When Festal returned from his trip with the bolt of cloth, Myrna knew which of the women could use a pretty head tie or a little top for a child. She liked having something to share and knew she could make good things from the chambray he had brought. She mentioned her visit to Winnie, and that the woman had not been at home.

  “Stay away from that woman, and don’t have her girls coming to this house.”

  “Did she have an interest in you?”

  “Don’t be getting into my business. I have said enough.”

  Full stop. Myrna knew not to press Festal. He was not going to talk about the matter and asking him again would irritate him. She dropped the topic. She was curious to meet this woman and learn more about the community. She turned back to her husband. “That is an enormous bolt of cloth. How did you ever carry it?” Myrna was stunned by the weight of the bolt of chambray. Festal swelled with pride at the praise. He hoisted her again off her feet,

  “You weigh more than the bolt!”

  Myrna laughed, thinking he was making a joke. Together, they sat down on their bed to share the happenings of their time apart. He gave her the photo from Violet and the letter, which she put up on her shelf to enjoy later. That night, it was cold in the room and Myrna coaxed Festal into the bed. She felt his body heat, then the hardness of his maleness against her, then the pain of such a deep penetration as he plunged into her. There was less room for him as the baby was growing, she thought. He shuddered as he pulled away from her, patting her shoulder and going to wash himself before returning to his mat. It was not as enjoyable as what she had experienced before, but why had he been so surprised that she had gained weight? Why didn’t he realize that she could be pregnant if he had had sex with her during the Christmas holidays? She had protected this baby the only way she knew, they would be a family soon enough. She walked slowly to the washbasin, taking a pitcher of hot water with her, and enjoyed the smell of the lavender soap cleaning her. She took her time before returning to her bed and putting out the candle.

  The following morning, Festal was tender around her. He brought her a cup of warm milk and asked if she had liked the material he carried to her. She brought his hand to her lips and brushed it against them. When he came in for the evening meal, there was fresh steamed nshima and chicken stew over it, with a small scoop of fruit jam and a biscuit on the side. Festal came to her bed again that night and she welcomed him with a touch, opening her body to him. It was not as painful this time. Festal fondled her breasts which had become enlarged and tender. They were new at their love-making. Myrna realized they had somehow missed the first chapters. It would be better between them. This would be a house of love.

  CHAPTER 15

  THE CATTLE STATION

  At the cattle station, Myrna made good use of her time. She gathered berries from the hillside behind the house and made jam, using the honey Festal’s neighbors brought them. After preserving the fruit with sugar and honey, she sealed the tins with wax, then lined them up on the little mud shelves with a piece of bright fabric ribbon around each lid. She now had the fabric to complete the covers she wanted to make for the table and the bed, and she pieced together a curtain for the doorway to let in the breeze and keep out the flies. She weighted the bottom hem with small pebbles so the breeze would not displace it from the doorway, then mounted it above the door with a dowel running through a casing in the fabric. Two pegs held the dowel away from the wall. In the calves’ pen, Myrna spread fresh grasses for them to lie on, and it reduced the amount of mud and the flies.

  In the last week, she increased in size around her waist. It was now difficult to wear the school clothes she had brought with her; the jumper was tight across her breasts. She relied on the wrapped traditional skirt, the chitenge, which was also cooler in the heat, and a loose blouse on top. She had her hair wrapped in a twist up the back and a wrap of satin across her forehead and over the sides ending in a tie at the back of her neck. When Festal was away, the hunting dogs stayed at her side wherever she went, leaning their long muzzles back and exposing their necks for her to stroke. When she walked to her neighbor’s house, the dogs dropped to the ground outside the courtyard and waited for her to return. At night, they guarded her by lying on either side of
the doorway and occasionally she would hear their low growl if an animal approached. She fed them treats from her meal and taught them to sit when she patted her side. They would be a good protection for the baby.

  When Myrna decided to read Violet’s letter, it was full of information about Joseph. His picture showed him to be as handsome and as strikingly tall and young as Violet had described. Festal had also been impressed by his outgoing and friendly nature. Myrna tried to imagine her little sister married and settling into a routine of domesticity. She could not. She read the paragraph about Wellington Taylor stopping by the parents’ house. She could feel his frustration and her own in the interruption of their correspondence. It was a wound that festered as she thought about her sister getting the man she wanted, surrounded by her family, friends and activities, while Myrna had no access to her former life, her tutors, her books, her friends. Myrna asked for forgiveness for this envy, but it would spring up again, and she would have to rid herself of the thoughts many times over the months ahead. There was no one she could share it with, least of all Festal.

  Myrna had talked to her neighbor Lottie about buying a couple of chicks so they would have eggs. She located nesting baskets and thought they might go atop the platform where the gourds were stored. She asked for Festal’s approval before making this purchase.

  Lottie had two children who were toddling about her house, pulling at the cloth on the window, and knocking over the pot of water sitting on the floor. Lottie laughed as she gathered the smallest one into her arms, the small waist beads showing off the chubby buttocks of her little girl. “You just wait,” she said. “You will know how sweet it is to have a guest pay a call and give your mind something to think about other than keeping babies clean and safe.”

  The calves were a special project for Myrna. She liked their cool wet noses and rough hot tongues that eagerly searched for the nipple when she brought them milk. She did not have to milk the cows; one of the young boys did that chore. Then he would bring the warm milk back on his cart. After each of the calves nursed, Myrna wiped the nipple clean, then refilled the bucket from the can, and went on to the next calf. At first, the calves crowded her, spilling the milk and almost trampling her in their eagerness. In time, they learned to wait their turn, and after all of them had their fill; she brushed them and checked them for ticks, then bed their stalls with fresh grasses. The pen was made of thorn bushes, so Myrna had to watch not to get her skirts hung up on the plants. She had mended a few tears already. The calves were given names and they learned them. If she called to one, it would answer with a bawl which set the herd to calling out.