“Simbi! Will you not answer my question?” Lalude came forward and kicked the pot of water that served as his wife’s mirror; the water rippled and her image blurred. She glared up at him
“What? What question?”
“Where are you going? You have been painting just your face for almost an hour!”
“How is it your concern where I go and how long I take to get ready?”
“What do you mean? Am I not your husband? Am I not the head of this home?”
She laughed. “So, you’re the head of this home? First prove that you’re a man, then we can talk about heading a home.” She hissed and turned back to her makeshift mirror which had now settled.
“Simbi, you’re asking for trouble o! And you will get it in baskets if you keep on this way” Lalude said, his calm tone belying his hurt.
“You cannot do anything! Do you hear me? There is nothing you can do” she said and then started to laugh at her own joke. She walked past him into their bedroom and started to rummage for a head tie.
Being the village whore was one thing, but flaunting it in your husband’s face was just unacceptable. In a moment of anger, Lalude retrieved a little black cloth from the roof of the sitting area and unwrapped it to reveal the enchanted broom stick inside it, picturing what would happen if he used it. He would place it at the doorway, and his wife would walk over it, oblivious, as she left the house. She would head for her lover’s house and they would lie together. He tried not to dwell on that part. When it came time to get up, the bastard wouldn’t be able to; the enchantment on the broomstick was such that if Simbi walked over it and had intercourse with a man within three days, they would be stuck together. Both of them would be ridiculed and carried to the market square. They could get cured, but Lalude would forever be known as the husband of the adulterous woman. He wrapped the broom back in the cloth and replaced it.
“Shameless, impotent goat” Simbi hissed as she walked past him, out of the house.
She would get what was coming to her, but Lalude decided it wouldn’t be that day. At least not by his hand.