Author: Takudzwanashe Charlene Ndangana

About the author: Takudzwanashe Charlene Ndangana is a bubbly 20-something blogger and podcaster under the name “The Baobab”. She enjoys reading African Literature and adult colouring.

Story title: Everything hurts

About the story: I do not believe that people who are unable to speak out are weak. Some people lost their voices when they got married. Starting all over isn’t easy as it seems.

I watched the tout slam the door of the commuter omnibus. Each time he slammed the door he would swear and click his tongue in derision. He seemed to be enjoying the sound and the loud foul music that was being played from the Bluetooth speaker. Even if the young man slammed the door for close to an hour I was not unbothered. I chose to busy myself with work not because I wanted a promotion or a fancy job title. I chose to do that because I was one of the many spouses who were unsafe in their homes. The complaints from the other passengers reminded me that home wasn’t supposed to be a prison. The home was supposed to be a safe place, a place you looked forward to going to after a long day. The home was supposed to be a happy place but unfortunately, it was a different story for me.

Jabulani was a man I once loved. But I had watched our love wither, die but I was not ready to make the final call. I had dated and courted Jabulani with so much joy because he seemed to see through my fragility and my brokenness. Sometimes I believe that the wedding band and the societal pressures of having children tamed my partner. Had Jabulani and I harvested our love prematurely?

I caught a tear before it slid to my cheeks and I held onto the seat ready to go home and receive my serving of slaps, punches, and kicks. Even though Jabu had not said it loud, this was the punishment I was receiving because my body was failing to bear a child for him. But wasn’t the conclusion too early? Had he forgotten that I had birthed two children for him?

The tout notified me that he could not fix the door and I had to hold on tight or I would turn into mince meat in the Central Business District. How I wish I had dropped off rather than torture myself on my way to a modernized prison. I stared at the tout hoping that he would change his mind but rather he begged me not to stare at him. I looked away and hoped that my journey back home would be safe.

As I made my silent prayer a young lady seated next to me intertwined her arm with mine. I smiled and watched her as she played Candy crush. I wished I could tell her that it wasn’t her place to change her partner. Not everyone needed to be saved and how I wish I had discovered it while I still had time. But I was blinded by love to have discovered all the tell signs. Was it my place to tell her that no matter what happens she ought to trust your instinct?

As the commuter omnibus passed through the NSSA building I remember the smile on the security officer’s face when I told her that I was getting married. She hugged me and told me that she had been praying for me. It was at that stage that I realized that it is possible to pray for strangers. I had promised to pray for the young lady who had held my hand. Although she could have taken her effort for granted it meant everything to me. Everything about Jabu and I was a theatrical performance. I replayed yesterday’s sermon in my head and all I could do was let my tears blind my vision.

“I am lucky, oh no lucky is not the best word… I am a blessed man. God gave me a prayerful, loving, and caring wife. God plucked the best rose for me’’. I could feel that everyone was staring at me thank God for the face mask, no one could read my facial expressions.Jabu was a church elder who was adored by many youths in our church. Before I shared the same bed with him in our matrimonial home I saw him as a perfect man. I believed that Jabu was the Enoch of our time and I was lucky to have time. Unfortunately, when I became his wife I failed to recognize the man I had married.

Who would believe me if I told them that the long maxi dresses or the pulling stockings I wore covered my bruises? I had played the game so well because Jabu had threatened to kill me if I ever raised the divorce topic. What scared me the most is that he had said it in a joking manner. But I knew that he meant every word. Even if he had killed me no one would doubt his word if he said that I was suicidal. People would feel sorry for him for losing his perfect wife.

The congregants were in a jubilant mood but my thoughts were all over the place. From the outside, Jabu and I looked like a picture-perfect couple. I had birthed Jabu with two children who were aged two and four, I had a good job and I was kind and courteous to everyone. I know that everyone has his or her flaws but my husband had sins rather than flaws.

“Christ loved us even though we were sinners, so why do you find it difficult to love the next person?” My thoughts brought me back to the circus performance performed by Jabu. Jabu had a great sermon but everything about it was lies. There was a time I wanted to kill Jabu and nothing could have been traced back to me. I was a woman on a mission and I had done my research and a few drops of poison in his whiskey would have sent him to the grave slowly and painlessly. But this man had turned into a bitter and broken woman.

I was a powerless woman and even if I left Jabu how would I survive? I did not want to be a burden to anyone. But this marriage was like cancer that was invisible but killing me from the inside. My only worry was if my mother was ever going to heal from my death. I am tired of all the lies, the fake smiles, and having to hide my scars with makeup.

I have lost so much but one thing that I won’t lose is my dignity. My mother did not raise a bitter and angry woman. Maybe one day I will have the courage to leave but as for now, I will stay.