Is Your Dream Marriage Beginning To Fade? Part V

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.


  1. where is part 6. am enjoying this story

  2. Pastor not only are you a good preacher but a writer too.May God richly bless you and give you ideas to continue with the good work you are doing. Please we need part 6 asap. I can not wait to check your blog and Pastor Conrad Mbewe.See you soon.
    Bryan J

  3. great writing pastor,we are thankful to God for you pastor Makashinyi....