I was in the middle of a conversation in the Terraces one day when I observed Shortie being dragged by his belt by this ominous looking woman. The woman, as it turned out, I was told, was none other than "Chihera", his wife. She had anger written all over her face.
Seeing how angry she was, all at the Terraces knew how to keep danger at bay. We would have to follow Chihera's directives as they came, for we all did not want to risk our lives being on the receiving end of her offensive. Seeing by the way she was clutching Shortie, it also went well that any challenger from within us would unfortunately meet this fate. That was the last thing we wanted at this stage.
Shortie was helplessly gazing all over the Terraces. I have seen people in signs of desperation, but the state in which Shortie was in on this day not only frightened me, but also reminded me how we men were under attack by these people of the fairer sex. It dawned on me and everybody in the Terraces that our species were under attack, and if such acts we were being exhibited on this juncture by Chihera were anything to go by, this would render our God-given natural heritage, that of being supreme over all creatures on the earth, all to naught.
I wished I could help Shortie, but I could not, as I did not understand the temperament of this "Chihera". As far as I know, women of the Chihera totem were not to be messed around and I did not want my reputation to go in tatters in an effort to rescue Shortie. After all I did not know whatever it was he had done to Chihera to attract such a full wrath. as it turned out I was right in maintaining my distance.
Chihera was not fazed either by the non-intervention stance taken by the Spectators who were busy doing their things as if nothing so ominous was taking place. She was by now physically abusing Shortie whom she had thrown violently down after hanging him by nook of his own shirt. It was like proverbially being hoisted by one's own petard.
Shortie was trying to reason out his innocence, but simply because we at the Terraces did not know what wrong he had done, we continued to look from a distance. The faint-hearted had decided to make quick their escape lest they would be bearing witness to Shortie's death on the hands of his "Chihera".
When she spoke, she spoke with a voice full of authority. She had a booming voice which shook the walls of the Terraces. The voice had threatening intonations and everybody kept quiet. Not even one of us dared to challenge her to leave poor Shortie.
"Now tell me, who in this bar told you that?," she asked, looking around to see if there was anybody who would own up. "Tell me before I exterminate you, baba vemwana?"
It had become evident that Shortie was one of those men who was continuously being subjected to domestic violence and that he really indeed needed help from someone highly authoritative. Being a man and having his own natural instincts, I knew it was naive to ask him to run to the local cop house and seek sanctuary there. It would unfortunately mean danger for the rest of his poor life.
"Help me guys, she will definitely kill me. I did not do her wrong," he pleaded. "I answered my phone, but the phone turned out to be from my brother. I understand that it must be her who answers all the calls, but I just thought that this time she was not around as she had gone out." I felt pity for Shortie. He continued lamenting. "Look at it guys, I had done her laundry, and that included her underwear, I cooked for her whilst she was at a kitchen party, yet she continues to harass and embarrass me like this"
Shortie was sobbing like a sobbing child who had just received a through beating on the hands of her father"Don't I run whenever she sends me on an errand? Don't I ask her for permission to come to join you here at the Terraces, tell me gentlemen. Every time I ask for permission from her, she grants me, yet if I am not home by eight in the evening, she brings hell right onto my nose".
"Which woman would not like my type for a husband. Didn't I send back my mother home because there was no space at our house after her sister and brother-in-law and their family, including their maid and gardener came in for a visit?" Poor shortie, so that was the reason why every time he was not at ease when we are having one or two at the Terraces, and why he cannot even afford to buy himself even opaque beer which is relatively cheaper, and opting instead to drink unorthodox and unconventional "take-me-quick" cheaper imitations of hard liquor brands.
"I thought I was doing her good by showing her the payslip even before I had seen it myself" He continued, much to the amazement of others in the Terraces. "Everybody had begun feeling sympathetic towards this man, it became evident, but nobody could help it.
When Chihera talked it was not countering the accusations, but, to the chagrin of us all, she demanded more from him.
"From today onwards, I will have to approve friends for you, understand?" she pricked Shortie's ears typically of a woman trying to drive home a point to third grader. Shortie could not say anything but just nod in approval. "I am taking the phone away from you because I do not know whom you talk to during my absence" With these words, Chihera snapped the phone from Shortie's pocket and put it into her bra.
"Now, run home! I wouldn't want to arrive there before you" With that she shoved Shortie hard through the door, through the onlookers who had assembled to witness this free spectacle. Shortie bolted out as Rangwani was arriving. It was no use, Shortie had been dealt with without anybody to help him.
Hell has no fury like a demented Chihera.
Am outta here.
