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It took the bitter man four years to crawl out of the shell of emotional devastation Nhamo Muchagumisa While Mrs Mapiye was counting her blessings, her husband was rueing his past. She was too excited to see the dark cloud that sat on her husband's face, how the marks of age had become more discernible, his shrivelled eyelids slowly retreating with his eyes into the depths of their sockets. She did not notice how the layer of the petroleum jelly he rubbed on his face after every bath seemed to form a shield through which she might read the trouble beneath. While Mrs Mapiye did most of the talking, her husband played the passive role of the detached listener.