Is Your Dream Marriage Beginning To Fade? Part V

If Temwani thought throwing Miyanda out of his Double Cab Toyota Hilux was going to be as easy as a stroll in the park, he was thoroughly mistaken. She was not going down without a fight. Her lively beauty and charm belied the violent and aggressive behaviour that was beginning to unfold before the now bewildered and panicking Temwani. Pitted against Delilah, the deceptive manipulator wife of Samson, or against the seductress Jezebel, wife of King Ahab, Miyanda would not emerge a loser to these women in any contest. The characters of these two infamous women in the Bible seemed to weave together in her, and combined to make her into a cannon of moral aberration of unimaginable proportions.

Temwani’s phone was ringing again…for the second in less than two minutes, and it was his wife Chisala calling. The altercation he was involved in with this woman didn’t seem like it was ending. Answering his wife’s phone in the midst of the grating and cacophonous protestations of the Jezebel incarnate would provide ready fodder for her to shout offensive, unprintable things for the benefit of Chisala’s ears, and quadruple the tension which was already present in their marriage. So he ignored the phone call, and directed his attention to the recalcitrant passenger in his vehicle.

She threw the K50, 000 in his face. “Who told you that I don’t have money to hire a taxi if I needed one?” She barked at him, her voice sharp and stinging. “I don’t need your 50 Pin, I asked you a question: Why are you throwing me out of your car like I am some escort you picked on the street? I asked for a ride home, and you want me out of your car without explanation? How can you be that heartless? Ati ba Born Again!”

Temwani, was now beginning to get irritated and agitated. One part of him was telling him to slap her, grab her by the hand and drag her out the vehicle. The other part was telling him to be gentle and diplomatic. He listened to the latter, not too sure if that would resolve the impasse quicker.

“Miyanda, I know you might not want to hear this, but I am a married man.” He gently addressed her. “I love my wife and I am committed to her. You have no right to any part of my body, and neither do I have to yours. It is not right, and it is sinful.”

“Don’t preach to me Mr. Righteous,” she interjected, throwing her long flock of hair to the left. “I know you admire me. I see that in your eyes all the time. I am just making it easy for you to do what you have been a coward to do the last five months. Can’t you get it?”

 Acutely tense, and growing increasingly impatient with her, Temwani’s anger was now slowly slipping to the edge, and he was getting scared how long he would be able to keep it in check. He had never slapped any female before. The only time he ever got close to beating a female was way back when he was in grade nine. His mind raced back to that moment, the painful recollection coming back as if it happened only yesterday. He had just finished one of his best drawings for his Art assignment at school. And he put it out in the sun to dry faster. The drawing made him very proud, and he expected nothing less that a perfect grade for it.

His younger sister, who had just celebrated her fifth birthday, was a handful for her age and sex. Her mischief and notoriety was legendary in the family. It was as if there was a script for naughty behaviour which she followed to the minutest detail. A few days earlier, little sister had been introduced by big brother to the magic power of a magnifying glass. The easy with which it poked holes and set to flames pieces of paper when held above the paper in the sun was a great delight to her. So that day, she thought about what an adventure it would be to play with the magic toy. It didn’t take long for her to find the magnifying glass, off she ran outside. And what was to go up in flames, was Temwani’s pricess drawing. By the time Temwani stepped out to check on his drawing, half of it was already gone. Outraged, he screamed as he charged towards her, and she looked at him incredulously, wondering why he was not as excited as she was about her adventure. He grabbed the magnifying glass from her, and his right hand was headed for her small cheek when his mother shouted from the doorway and stopped him in his tracks before he could unleash a devastating slap to her small face.

And here he was, provoked by this woman who did not want to bulge at all. Was this the first time he will go down in history in beating the day lights out of her and break his impeccable record? He stared at her with pity. Scarcely paying attention to all her ranting. His heart pounding so fast, and his face gradually becoming wet from his own sweat.

“Miyanda, for the last time, I say, get out of the car, or else I will become physical,” he pleaded with her, with a noticeable tremor in his voice. She got out of the car, and as she stood straight facing him, Temwani’s phone rang again, and this provided her with an opportunity to carryout her fiendish plan. She pulled at his shirt with both hands with all the force she could marshal, ripping off three top buttons, and his pocket. “Good night Mr. Righteous,” she said, as she cheekily and defiantly walked away.

Temwani stood there in stunned silence, the only noise was the sound of his phone, ringing in the pocket of his trousers. He didn’t know how long he stood there, his mind trying to process what had just happened. He looked down to the damage on his shirt, and wondered what explanation he would have to give to his wife. This was going to be the most nerve-wracking drive home. He got into the car, started the engine and drove off. No trip home had been this emotionally painful! The road ahead of him looked so dark, and he could barely see the white dividing line between the two lanes. He had driven for some metres before he realised that he had forgotten to turn on the headlights.

Back to our explosive Miyanda. When she left Temwani, she walked straight to the new Radisson Blu Hotel. Her brisk steps made an ear-piercing noise as her high heels hit the paved parking lot of the hotel. She headed for the blue taxis parked near the entrance to the hotel, her mind busy putting to work the diabolical plan she had conjured up to hit back at Temwani. He had deflated her self-esteem, and she was going to make him pay for it. She chuckled to herself, relishing the harm her hellish weaponry would inflict on him. She needed his wife’s number. How and where could she get it that evening? From one of Temwani’s friends, who was also their classmate in the MBA programme. George…yes, George, the guy from Avondale. And she had George's number.

The Radisson Blu Hotel

“Good evening George.” She greeted him. “Good evening, who am I talking to?” “George, this is Temwani from the MBA class.” “Oh, Abena T. Sorry, I forgot to save your number in my phone. Yes, what can I do for you?” “I hope I am not bothering you George,” Miyanda spoke, trying to sound every bit apologetic. “I am trying to raise Temwani to ask him something concerning school, but he is not picking up the phone. May be it is still on mute after class.  Would you by any chance have his wife’s number, so that I can reach him on her phone?” “Yes I do. I will text it right away.” And George did.

With a spiteful glee on her face, Miyanda called Chisala, Temwani’s wife. “Good evening madam.” “Good evening. Do I know you?” Chisala answered. “You soon will?” Miyanda morosely replied. “I am your husband’s class mate. I had asked him for a ride home after class this evening, my vehicle is in the garage, and my husband is way. When we got home, he came into my house, and wanted to force himself on me. I resisted him, and ended up ripping his shirt. If you don’t mind, I can replace the shirt, but please tell him to keep his passion for you alone. Thanks and good night.” And with that, she hung up the phone, and punched her fist into the air. “Yazanda ku Foxdale,” she whispered to herself, the tone possessing as much malice as self-congratulation for her ingenuity. 

Temwani’s journey home finally came to an end, and as he got out of the car, he looked again at his shirt, and knew that a bare glance at it, would not fail to betray the evidence of a scuffle. Three times, he didn’t answer his wife’s phone, but that can easily be explained. But the shirt! He walked towards the door, dreading each step that was bringing him closer to a meeting with his wife. His heart and mind heavy with apprehension. I have to tell her the truth, but will she believe me?

He was not aware that Miyanda had called his wife earlier, and already scandalized him.

Is Your Dream Marriage Beginning To Fade? Part IV

[This post is a product of my own imagination. The names, characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.]

There was no denying the fact that something was terribly wrong between Temwani and Chisala. That sparkle and that glow which glistened in their marriage, radiating a profoundly deep affection for each other was evidently losing its lustre. The two of them were becoming more and more distant to each other. Heart-warming conversations, the infectious laughter, times of prayer together and the frequent outings had not only become rare, but if they did come, and far in between for that matter, they seemed dry and without much of the exhilaration and euphoria of earlier years.

If their friendship was getting a severe battering, much worse was their conjugal obligations to each other in the sexual realm. They both seemed to enjoy it less and less and it became somewhat of a dry routine that they had to get through with as quickly as possible.

For Chisala, she recoiled from it because she knew that her husband did not invest much into it. He was constantly submerged into his work and academic demands, and this distracted him from her. She felt left out of the picture altogether. In just under a year, she went from being a fulfilled wife to a woman who felt less and less loved and appreciated. At times, she felt like a single mother because her husband was absent so much of the time – absent even when he was physically present in the house. She felt isolated, and frequently broke down.

She loved her husband, and was devoted to their marriage, but life was becoming increasingly difficult for her, and for their son who rarely saw his dad. Most days, Temwani left home just before six in the morning, and many nights, he did not return until after twenty one hours.  God had created her with legitimate needs He intended to meet through her husband. And since Temwani was so absorbed outside the home, many of these needs went unmet.

She came to a point where she quit talking to her husband about her thoughts and feelings of isolation. It seemed useless. She had made suggestions, tried new approaches, pleaded with him many times, but nothing changed, for the good that is. To protect herself from feeling the hurt, she thought she should just give up on trying to influence change. But by building a wall of protection around herself, little did she realise that she was also locking her husband out. On the outside, she continued to be respectful and pleasant, but on the inside she knew the difference. There was more formality and distance. She never consciously thought about walking away from him, but she was becoming more and more emotionally disconnected from him.

She often recalled how she encouraged him to go for the MBA. They embarked into this phase of their life together as most couples do, with optimism and eyes wide open. But over time, the stress, separation, and loneliness began to wear her down emotionally and spiritually. She began to wonder whether her eyes were really wide open when she urged him to pursue his academic dream.

For Temwani, on the other hand, there was one primary pursuit in his life – to be done with the MBA in less than fifteen months, and nothing was to stand in his way from accomplishing his dream, not even his wife. When she talked about their disconnect, he often dismissed her concerns, and claimed she was just becoming a nagging wife. He often accused her of being a hypocrite who encouraged him to pursue something and was now reneging on that which she approved in the first place. He prided himself in the fact that he was doing this for the family, and she had no reasonable grounds to be stressed about this. His scholastic adventures captured his heart and became his treasure. He allowed his books, like a temptress, to lure him away. The love of his youth, was slowly and insidiously being replaced with coursework and learning.

As days trudged on, each day bringing with it new challenges on their already battered marriage, little did Temwani realise that the stress he was putting himself through, was leaving him vulnerable to many pressures and temptations. He could not admit to himself that he had become emotionally detached from his wife. He argued that this was a normal passing phase in life, and school comes with sacrifices, and it will soon be over. He reasoned that God understood the situation, and would not abandon him to self-destructive behaviour. After all, God’s goodness was already very clear in that he had been passing his modules with flying colours. What could possibly go wrong?

Yes, Good knew about his situation, and so did the archenemy of our soul. The malignant, and scheming devil. He always lurks in the shadows, waiting to pounce at an opportune time. And that time came rather stealthily.

The source of the trouble for Temwani came in the form of a female course mate by the name of Miyanda. They had struck up a conversation on the very first day of their evening lectures, aided by the fact that they sat next to each other, not by design of course. When Miyanda walked late into class that first night, the nearest empty seat was the one next to Temwani. Not wanting to walk all the way to the back of the class in her high heels, and disturb the class, she chose to sit next to Temwani.

Over the course of time, the two got to know each other. Temwani had the presence of mind to know that she was just like any other classmate. She was working for the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP). Her husband of one year six months was one of the line managers at Zambian Breweries Plc. They lived in PHI. Miyanda was a beautiful lady. Her beauty came with a stunning, radiant smile, which she flashed about with effortless elegance. Her face gleamed with an infectious persona. Her eyes possessed a kind of luminous quality to them, making them look like they can glow in the night. Her voice resembled that of Chisala, with an enhanced musical quality to it.

Temwani soon discovered that she had no strong inclinations to religious things. She and her husband seldom went to church. “My husband gets very uncomfortable with this ‘born again’ stuff.” She told him one day. “So we just kind of go to church once in a while, especially where we can have a good time, some nice music and great motivation speeches that lift you up, instead of talking about sin and hell.”

“A lost soul indeed,” thought Temwani. He was very guarded in the way he related with her, and to his credit, often talked very fondly of his wife to her. The marital vows he made to Chisala still echoed in his mind, and he was cautious not to break them. He innocently gave her his business card, and she gave him hers, and text messages and e-mails from her soon became frequent. Initially, it was just hi, hi, and occasionally a question or two about school, but then, they started getting personal. “I have missed you, looking forward to seeing you in class this evening.”

Although Temwani was becoming uncomfortable with this kind of correspondence, he didn’t do anything decisive to stop this, so she felt encouraged to keep writing, and each new message more intimate than the previous one. One of the evenings after class, she told him that her husband was working out of town, and her car was in the garage for service. “Can I ask for a ride home?” She asked, and then quipped in, “and I will not take no for an answer?”

“But, but, but your house is way past ours, remember I, I, I live in Foxdale” Temwani stammered. “Can I ask George…we were together at UNZA, he lives in Avondale, and he can drop you off at PHI.” “No, my dear, it is you Temwani I have asked, and Temwani it is to take me home.” She said, authoritatively, while poking her finger in his chest. That evening, she was wearing a very tight skirt, way above her knees, and that made Temwani very uncomfortable.       

Well, she got her ride from class at the Bank of Zambia building on Cairo Road, to PHI. “Do you know the other meaning for the initials MBA?” She quizzed him as they drove along. “May be not,” he responded.

“Ok. Do you want to know?” She asked. “Sure,” was his reply. “It means Married But Available,” she told him, with a chuckle in her voice. And, curious, he interrogated her, “and what is that supposed to imply?” “Ah, Temwani, you are doing a Masters, and you can’t figure out such an obvious thing?” As she spoke, she stretched her hand, and began to stroke his thigh. “Married But Available,” she whispered to him.

Temwani’s heart began to beat faster. Many thoughts flooded his mind. His mouth went dry. He forcibly pushed her hand from his thigh, and increased the speed of his vehicle. As they approached Arcades Shopping Mall, he pulled into Ody’s Filling Station on the left side of the road, and abruptly stopped the car. “Can you get out of my car,” he bawled at her. Shocked, she asked, “Why?” “I said get out of my car,” he repeated. She was still seated there, shell-shocked.

He got out of his car, went round the vehicle, opened her door, and told her to get out. He handed her a K50, 000 note, and asked her to get a taxi to PHI. She was still protesting and wanted to know why he was kicking her out of his car.

At that very moment, Temwani’s phone rang. He reached into his pocket to get the phone…it was Chisala, his wife.

Is Your Dream Marriage Beginning To Fade? Part III

This post is a product of my own imagination. The names, characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The three years and ten months that Temwani and Chisala had been married were a dream come true. It had been sheer bliss every day of their nascent nuptial life. The Lord had blessed them way beyond their expectations. They were both doing very well in their respective careers. They were staying in their own beautiful house in Foxdale, courtesy of a loan that Temwani got from his employers. Their energetic and lovely baby boy, Chisomo, was seven months shy of his second birthday. His mischievous adventures added much fun to an already fun-filled home.

Temwani was now in his third month as an MBA student. Most of the time he felt stretched to his limits as he juggled family, work, studies and church activities. He prayed daily for strength and wisdom to give due attention to every demanding sphere of his life. More importantly, he wanted to free up more time to be with Chisala and Chisomo, the love of his life. He tried to eke out a little time here and there to be with his family, but he was at best, only becoming more and more of a part-time husband and father.

One morning, he woke up before dawn, his quickened heartbeat pulsed in his ears and he sounded out of breath. His eyes snapped open, and he took a glance at the time luminously displayed on the digital clock of the DSTV Decoder – it was 04:48. He turned and looked beside him. Chisala was curled up close to him on his left side, her left hand resting on his chest. She slept soundly and he didn't want to disturb her. His heart had finally slowed down to its normal rate but he knew sleep was gone from him now. He was awake and the day had begun. He had lately been worrying a lot about his soon approaching first exam in the two modules he was taking for his MBA, and that had been giving him night sweats.

Quietly, he stepped out of the bed, and unobtrusively tiptoed to the bathroom to run his water for a bath. They had often taken baths together since they got married, and it felt strange to step into the bathtub alone. A few minutes later, done with his bath, he walked back into the bedroom, trying to be as less noisy as he possibly could to avoid waking up his wife. Well, he soon discovered there was no need for that. She was already up, and seated upright on the bed staring at him with a surprise look on her face.

“Good morning honey,” she greeted him. “Hi sweetie,” he responded. 

“You are up so early today, what’s up? She quizzed him. “I am kind of behind on my readings for the exam, and I want to squeeze three weeks worth of work into a week, and every minute matters. So I am thinking of going to the office early for the next one and half months and put in at least two hours of reading before work starts at 08:00 hours.”

“And by the way, do you have enough fuel in your car? We may have to use separate cars for the next several weeks because of my early morning reading schedule,” He told her, rather flatly.

“But why didn’t you inform me about this change much earlier….you could have mentioned it last night,” she protested. He mumbled an almost inaudible sorry, and silently dressed up for work, as she looked at him in stunned silence. Since they got married, they had never gone for work in separate cars unless one of them was working out of town, and those moments were rare. They didn’t talk nearly as much anymore as they used to.

He went into the kitchen and made himself some toast bread for his breakfast. It was twenty minutes before 06:00 hours. He briskly walked back into the bedroom, and kissed his wife goodbye. “See you later sweetie. Enjoy your day.” “Have you had breakfast,” she asked. “I am fine. I have made toast bread, and will have coffee at the office,” he replied. And off he drove to the office.

And thus such became the predictable routine in their home. Days and weeks came and went, and Temwani was becoming increasingly busy with his MBA. To make matters worse, the lectures he attended in the evening were held on the same nights as the two midweek church meetings. He missed both, and his wife attended alone. Sometimes, the lecturers would be unavailable on the weekday nights, and the alternative day for making up on the lost time was unfortunately set for Sundays. And that meant our dear brother would rarely be seen at church for both services. 

One evening, he was busy at home in his study way after midnight, preparing for his first exam in the two modules he was taking. He didn’t even notice his wife walk into the study. She had been standing there for like three minutes, and he seemed oblivious of her presence, his head buried in the Marketing textbook he was reading. She cleared her throat in order to attract his attention, and this startled him back to reality. He looked at her, the kind of look that was intended to send a message to her that he was pressed for time.

“Honey, you have been in the study for the last four hours. You have not even had your dinner. When are you coming to bed?” She asked, with a voice that scarcely concealed her emotional pain. “Sweetie, I am preparing for the exam. Remember we are in this together. We agreed I do this MBA. I need your encouragement, not your disturbance.” He blurted, barely lifting his eyes off the page of his textbook. That was a real kick in the teeth.

Gentle and respectful as ever, his wife said goodnight to him, softly closed the door to the study, and sullenly walked back to the bedroom. She lay in bed staring at the sealing.

“MBA,” she whispered to herself. “Master of Business Administration, or Marriage Breakers Academy?” She sobbed herself into sleep, alone and lonely.