A yellow baptism, and you began to treat me as a goddess


By Nhamo Muchagumisa

There should have been a time to confess, but only now am I left with a voiceless confession. Throughout my life I had refused to be cheap, and when Chide waved a purple flower before me, he had not seen anything cheap. It was not even by deliberate effort that two sheds of purple blended very well when I first met him.

Everything happened by chance, Dear Maunza, which Chide and I ultimately converted to choice. That is how Chide’s life started sliding towards the long blade, and mine, your Angelina’s, started sinking into this mourners’ asylum.

You may not believe it if I start to tell you how I valued the sanctity of our relationship. Being a wife to you was like religion and I never tolerated an abominable thought, no matter how alluringly expressed, in words or action.

You would not believe it, even if you were here with me to listen to my confession, that the hottest secret I have ever kept from you is not in any way connected to the late Chide Chinemhuru.

I am sure you remember very well how many times you sent me to Prophet Kuteta to get holy water to enhance your fortunes in the gold mines.

I brought you the sacred water twice, but that never changed the relationship between you and luck.

Then came the day when fortune gave you a yellow baptism, and you began to treat me as a goddess. The “holy” water I had brought you had elevated your fortunes from the deepest trap of underground misfortune to the highest sky of financial blessings.

I never told you that the water I had brought back was ordinary stream water.



On that visit Prophet Kuteta had attempted to lure me into the world of his most intimate privacy.

“You know what dear woman,” said Prophet Kuteta, your man committed a silly offence.”

“Like what Holy Man?” I asked, just thinking that it was as simple as forgetting to use his “holy” water.

“He became intimate with another woman just after using my water,” the Man of God spoke, looking me straight in the eye.

I had no jealous feeling to waste. I was afraid that you might be trapped in a rockfall and die as a result of your desecration of a sanctified body.

“Please Holy Man, do something to save my husband’s life.”

“You just have to be intimate with another man to level it off,” Prophet Kuteta said, a look of grave concern on his face.

“No, I cannot go about looking for a man to perform the debauched act with me!”

“I am here,” he said, rising to close the door of his little grass thatched surgery, but my hand was on the door handle before his. We struggled with the door until it collapsed and I made good my escape. On my way home I fetched water from a stream and gave it to you and on the following day you were $US10 000 richer.



Then came Chide, and you know how I ended up travelling with him. You had beaten me up and forced me to return home towards sunset, saying that I had come to the Premier Gold Deposits, not only to sell food, but to sell my body, but I will tell you, I did not even sell my body to Chide.

It was after four months of a hot relationship with Chide when you trapped him into returning to our covert for more love. Imagine how terrified I felt when you shepherded me to the rendezvous. I had no time to reminisce on how good it had felt whenever I met him without you. Each time I tried to figure out what you wanted to do with him or us my mind went blank.

It was impossible to allow the film of the horror of our journey to Chidahuyo to replay in my mind, how the wet conspiracies in the night sky above us unleashed their fury on us, how I would have died of fear had I not been in his company.

I could not remember how I had slipped and fallen onto the muddy earth a countless times as we received the baptism of terror, how he had to drag me by the waist as I rested my left hand on his left shoulder to keep my balance.

How could I, in that moment of fear, remember the time we had spent in the veranda of a disused shop building an hour before the sky returned to calmness? But now I remember how I felt nothing in the grip of his robust arms except a sense of reassurance that I was being led out of danger.



When I entreated him not to proceed to his place in Nyakatsa that night, it was only out of compassion because it was late and also that I could not be sure that the storm would not resume. I wanted nothing at all from him that night. His safety had become my concern as he had placed mine at the centre of his struggle in the trap of bad weather.

It was only when I had allowed the fireplace in my kitchen hut to separate the bodies that had held on to each other for more than an hour that I allowed my heart to dance to a new emotion.

At first my ego prevailed and I let him spend his night in the kitchen hut while I spent mine in our bedroom. I only came back for him around midnight.

Thanks, Dear Maunza for surrendering yourself to the police. I should have run to make a report to the police when you stabbed Chide that night, but I ran to my Aunt’s place as far as Dada Plot.

The police came to take me two days after, even before I had the courage to tell my aunt the story.

I was the first suspect because I was the last person to have chatted with Chide on WhatsApp, luring him to a secret place, for that matter.

Now that I am out and you are in, I wish you had a way to read into my thoughts, just to know that Chide and I fell for the inevitable as that night it felt like it was only the two of us alive apart from the raging sky and the nocturnal creatures, after the storm had run its course.✍🏾✍🏾✍🏾



Nhamo Muchagumisa is an English Language and Literature teacher, and he writes from Odzi. He writes in his own capacity and can be contacted on +263777460162. Email him at: muchagumisan@gmail.com







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