The Bride Price: An African Romance (Chitundu Chronicles)

by Suzanne Popp

  “Was he? I was always a little afraid of them when they were that small. I don’t think I really carried any of you until you were about a year old. You all seemed too fragile. Well, as I said, I will think on his proposal and he is welcome to come and visit again when I am home. There is no rush.” Bishop listened to his daughter and thought what a loving girl she was. It was natural she would want a man who knew how to express himself and give her the words of love that meant so much in a marriage. He would hear Joseph say them to her, and know that she would be cared for and valued.

  Uncle Dodge stopped by that evening and saw his niece and his brother-in-law sitting on the porch. He joined them, and Violet left immediately. Dodge began his litany of what Violet needed, and that he was the only one that could insure the family would not once again slip into scarcity. Bishop heard him out. It would be the first of many harangues about the suitability of a mate for his niece. The more Uncle Dodge suggested dropping this Joseph prospect and letting Dodge find a suitable husband for the girl, the more Bishop leaned towards letting the girl have the husband she wanted. Violet’s choice was Joseph. Bishop had not known this compliant and loving daughter could be so persistent. Bishop had to admit the boy had presented himself well. He was cordial to all the family, including Festal. Joseph had won Beatrice over in their first meeting and she was a strong advocate for letting Violet make her choice. Joseph had made his plans known to them and had not inflated his attainments, but emphasized that he would give Violet a future. What had impressed Beatrice was how he genuinely listened to the girl and consulted her on what her preferences were, and that he was not going to take her from the bosom of her family. What convinced Beatrice was that Joseph was a provisioner and knew his market. The family would be protected from sudden famine or need. She also saw he was ready to be a father.

  After a month of nonstop campaigning by his daughter, Bishop gave his consent. They could marry with the stipulations that the Joseph and Violet would make their home within walking distance of the parents, the family would benefit from the provisioning, and Violet would be secure and provided for. Joseph’s words of love for the girl were openly spoken, and her affection for Joseph was already abundantly clear.

  Joseph had shared a brief history of his family, which concerned Bishop and Beatrice less than the proximity of their daughter and her future family. Neither of the parents had realized how much they would miss Myrna when she moved out of the area, and this was not to be repeated. With those stipulations, and a great deal hugs and tears, the couple was betrothed. Wedding plans began. Joseph invited Beatrice to come into the store and confer with himself and Valoo what the best choices were for the bridesmaids’ dresses and the wedding linens. Valoo appreciated sharing his expertise. He admitted that his own daughter was recently engaged, and that he and his wife were missing the initial preparations.

  When it came time to pay for the fabrics and the notions, Valoo stepped up to the counter. “Joseph has been like a son to me. I want to make this my gift to you and your family. I hope your marriage will be blessed, and that I will be a guest at your wedding.”

  “We will be honored by your presence. We appreciate all you have taught Joseph, and that you will be a friend to our family.”

  CHAPTER 11

  LETTERS AND INVITATIONS

  The neighbors came early and late to visit Festal’s new wife. She was on display. No one went away dissatisfied with this woman, about whom the stories had already spread. Lottie, who lived closest to the Phiris, was the first to come. She wasted no time giving Myrna a big hug and pressing a little jar of honey into her hands.

  “You come over and visit as soon as you get settled in. Our house is the one next to you on this same side of the ridge. My husband is away most of the day with the cattle and I welcome a visit.”

  The first day more than twenty people came by. She received many gifts; an egg from one, a handful of greens, a bunch of onions, a young goat, a basket of roasted corn ears, tomatoes, two towels, a whisk, and a fly switch, to name the ones she could recall. To welcome the visitors, Myrna had put on her best muslin dress with small patterns on the sleeves. She tied her hair in a patterned head cloth and on her wrist she wore a simple copper bracelet her sister had given her. Festal watched her.

  “What is that scent of flowers you are wearing?”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Wear it always.”

  As her visitors poured in she wished she had something to give them. Festal told her there would be time ahead to pay a visit in return. There was no hurry. When they were alone, the two of them decided where their belongings would be stored, and how to sort out the food and dry goods.

  “Make a list of the things you need and we will go to the market tomorrow to get them,” Festal said,

  “I know some of the things to get, but tell me what you like to eat then when I fix them you can tell me if they are made to suit you. Otherwise, I may be cooking what you don’t like so much. Help me make a list.” Together they made a list of what they would eat for the following days. Some of the choices were unexpected, such as a cattleman such as Festal having to buy meat at the market.

  “One cow can feed so many people, but it needs to be killed in the market for the meat to be distributed. Also, we have the halal butchers in the market that do it so it is clean. The whole animal needs to be distributed early in the day, so each Tuesday one is butchered for the village.”

  “I have never selected the meat before.”

  “I can help you do that and let you know what prices to expect.”

  The following day, Festal took her to the market to buy produce and show her where the butchery was, and how to select a good piece of meat. The market was even larger than the one in Blancville, which surprised her. Festal said it was because this was the sole place to buy goods, as there were few stores in Copperfine. The selection of goods varied with what was in season. There were always animals for sale, along with produce, fetishes, clothing, some carvings, and native medicines. He showed her where the cloth and sewing notions were, as well as the man who tailored clothing, the tinsmith, and the tire repair shop. There was also a crafts market where the buyers would come to buy wholesale to distribute in the tourist and safari areas. Festal told her what a fair price was for various goods, and left an allowance for the groceries in a pouch under his mat. And so the first week went by.

  Festal did not approach her physically, other than to rub her ankles when he saw they were swollen from nettles she had walked through on the way to the privy, or to help her untangle her mane of hair when it became caught in a strand of fly paper he had hung near the kitchen. He slept by her bed at night. He also listened to her tearing fabric for curtains, and sometimes singing a short song as she tended the calves. She had taken over feeding them and brushing them and they followed her about like a flock of ducklings. Festal delayed leaving for the hills with his cattle. He hovered around the house long after he had finished his chores, watching this woman make the place her own. Finally, he got up the courage to leave for his work. It was a Monday.

  CHAPTER 12

  LETTER FROM VIOLET

  Festal recalled the day the letter came. They had been in the house for just over a week when it arrived. Since the postal people had never had to deliver a letter to his cattle ranch, the postmaster had one of the clerks take it out to Myrna. There it was. Myrna Phiri. The cattlemen joshed Festal about her receiving a love letter. That thought festered in his mind until he got home to see the letter for himself. When Myrna showed it to him, she pointed out his name, Phiri, on the envelope. It was from Violet. Festal was relieved and somewhat embarrassed by his jealousy. Myrna ignored his eagerness to see the letter, and instead traced his finger over the name Phiri.

  “That is our name,” she said. “Try writing it in the dust.” He followed her fingers, soon writing for the first time. He practiced it over and over until he could write both names in the sand.

  Myrna wai
ted until Festal had gone to the fields before reading the letter. She had a surge of loneliness when she saw the careful penmanship of her sister.

  Dear Myrna, How is your state of health? I trust it is fine. I have been working in the market every day. While I was there, Mother gave birth to a boy named Jethro at the hospital and it is fortunate she was there as the baby was not an easy birth. He is well now and at home. I was so frightened when Father came to collect me that evening instead of Mother. The family is busy preparing for Stephen’s wedding. I am going to be a bridesmaid and mother is making me a dress of fuchsia pink taffeta. The big news is that I have met a man named Joseph, and he is everything I want. He is young, tall, and handsome. He has a great future as he is a provisioner. He is interested in me. If you come to Stephen’s wedding you will meet him. I am sending you a little sketch I made of him, but it doesn’t even do him justice. We are all thinking of you. Love, Violet

  A second letter arrived the following week, addressed to Festal Phiri. When the postman delivered it, Festal was not home, but Myrna said she would make sure he received it. She gave the man letters she had written to her sister, and money for postage. She also placed a small coin in his hand to thank him for bringing it all the way out. He thanked her. Now he could give a full report to his fellow workers of the ten cow wife, and when he did, he said she was worth every one of them and more. Her reputation began to grow.

  Myrna watched Festal’s long fingers open the letter when he came home. Myrna had propped it on the shelf beside the red cowbell, as though this was a daily happening. She asked Festal if she should read it to him, as he was washing up. He nodded.

  This is your invitation to the wedding of Stephen Chitundu and Esther Phiri on the 17h of April The Chitundu Family.

  Uncle Dodge will pick you up at the bus station that morning.

  Festal shook his head in disbelief. His first mail and he was invited to a wedding.

  “I do not want to go, as we have just made the journey,” she said. “But you can go and report everything back to me. I will care for the calves. If you want to go.” The wedding was a month away and Myrna was sure she would be showing, which is why she was unwilling to go.

  Festal liked the idea of being invited. Everyone had made him so welcome. But how could he leave his new wife alone? He already woke in the night thinking she had gone missing. They were so newly married. It would be a chance, however, to get supplies for the cattle station, he thought. He might also be able to secure a harness for the pair of donkeys he had trained. Then again, who would watch over his young bride? She was so agreeable to what he wanted. Maybe someone else would persuade her … He didn’t allow himself to finish the thought. Tomorrow he would decide. He went out to wash up for dinner, still unsure what to do.

  In the morning Festal announced he was going to attend the wedding. He would take letters from Myrna for the family. The trip would take him a week. He was relieved that he had made a decision and the moment he did, he regretted it. She would be alone. He would be away. He had to do it. Was he a fool to leave his greatest treasure unguarded?

  Festal returned home by mid-afternoon, before Myrna finished preparing the evening meal. She was cooking Festal’s favorite dish. The ingredients were lined up on the table, while the chicken stewed in the pot. When he walked in, he reached for her and picked her up,

  “You have been eating well,” he said. Myrna was surprised at the remark. She had been gaining weight, but he had to know she was pregnant. It was now mid-March.

  “Yes, you are feeding me well. I hope you also have a good appetite. I am making you a special dish tonight.” Myrna picked up the hot towel from the lid of the Dutch oven and smoothed it over Festal’s dark face then put it against her own. Within minutes the two of them were on the bed, and he was on top of her. She hoped no one would come to their door, as there was no screen and no hallway to protect them from view. Festal was afire in his passion.

  She felt his member penetrate her and it seemed it would not stop. She moaned with the pain and the suddenness of it, and as soon as he was spent he wrapped her in the sheet and headed to the washroom.

  Myrna lay on the bed dazed at the heat and the passion of his mating. She would remember this afternoon. She took some time before getting up from the bed, pulling the sheet from around her and dropping it into the hamper beside the bed. Then she cleaned herself with the towel before Festal returned. When he did, he took her in his arms and smoothed her hair, then ran his hands over her body and slowly began to caress her. She felt something she had never felt before—and it was totally different from the first fierce thrust of penetration. Now, she was the one waiting for the pleasure of the ebb and flow of his movement above her. He was taut, and tender. He fashioned his lovemaking as though she was a fine instrument that needed to be tuned. She moaned and wanted to rise to meet him, but she let him take the lead entirely. This was a stranger she had not expected—one filled with passion and tenderness.

  When Festal rose from the bed, he brought a hot wet towel to Myrna and carefully washed her, tenderly putting the shea butter on her female parts after warming the oil in his hands so that it became a slippery warm film that made her skin, from her breasts to her thighs feel as though they were satin. She didn’t move as he looked at her with the eyes of a worshipper. She noticed how golden they were, and how languorous they became as his lashes half closed over them. He brushed his lips across all of her parts, skimming them without any pressure—making her want this flicking of the tongue and touching to never stop.

  She repressed another moan of pure pleasure, wondering what other skills this husband of hers had concealed behind his intimidating face.

  It was after dinner when they made love for the third time that day. This time, Myrna was eager for her lesson. Festal laid her carefully on his sheepskin mat. She found her body beginning to respond and arch toward her mate as he balanced above her, withholding his weapon of pleasure until she reached for it with her body moistening in anticipation. The oils from the earlier tryst had stimulated and intensified her nerves so she could feel every thrust of his body. She felt his penetration when he lowered himself into her crevice, with a thousand needles of desire. The hardness of the floor made her buttocks rock forward with each thrust, enjoying the muscular tension of response. They fell asleep tangled in each other’s’ bodies. When they awoke later that night, they were ravenous and went to the table to finish the meal she had laid out for him.

  CHAPTER 13

  ENVY

  Winnie Kafuma, wife of the fetish priest, came to the edge of the Phiris’ courtyard and paused. She could hear laughter inside and while the door was open, both hunting dogs were standing on the threshold wagging their tails. She had not expected Festal to be at home in the middle of the afternoon. She had missed the welcoming party for the new bride and decided to stop by and make her own judgment of this wife everyone was talking about. Winnie had known Festal for several years, even thinking at some point that he might be the husband she needed. When her father married her to the local fetish healer, she moved Festal to the inventory section of her library of likely candidates for her daughters. As the girls grew, she had sized him up for each of them, but Festal had shown no interest. Then she placed him in the category of men who were more spiritual and less likely to find women a pressing need. She never thought of Festal as a man who sought out other men. But why had he never been attracted to her? What did this girl have that caused him to break all his reserves and empty his boma of so many hard-won cattle? She had to find out.

  Inside, there was love-making going on. No visitor was there or the dogs would have been tied. It was only mid-afternoon and the rest of the men were in the fields, their wives busy with the weeding or washing. This girl was making herself more laundry. Winnie waited longer than she needed before turning back to walk to her home. She would have nothing to report, but that would not prevent her from raising her eyebrows and letting others think she knew more
than she let on. She unwrapped the small cake she had made for the couple and ate it herself as she climbed the hillside to her rondavel. This girl would waste Festal’s resources if she kept him from his work and couldn’t budget her own time well enough to do her chores. She lingered a little at the edge of their own clearing, imagining what they had been up to in the house and how Festal was in bed. She saw her own husband carving a fetish and thought maybe he needed a little attention. He didn’t. He said he needed to finish his work and the girls were probably in the house anyway. She did not mention where she had been or how her errand had ended.

  Winnie gathered the laundry and checked the hens for eggs. She had used two in the cake and there were three more waiting under the hens. The women in the village had reported to her that this new wife had hair like a wild colt, thick and long when she did not braid it or cover it with a head scarf. She was expecting a child already and she appeared to be very young, about the age of Winnie’s youngest daughters.

  Winnie called to her girls to ask if they had visited the woman. It wouldn’t hurt to let them get to know her. Neither of them had attended school, and this woman was educated, or so she had heard. The village could use someone to help them know what was going on. In the interest of her husband’s trade, information was important. She leaned on her kitchen ledge and called to Salina and Pillar to come inside.

  “Have you met the new wife who lives in the rondavel at the end of our lane?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I would like you both to visit her and report back to me on what she looks like, and what she knows. Can you manage that? Just listen and look around. Don’t be obvious.”

  “When should we go?”

  “Just wait until you see her coming to the river to do laundry, or out with those orphan calves. Don’t let Festal see you sneaking around, make sure you just talk with her.”