The Fury and Cries of Women

by Angèle Rawiri

  “You never liked Emilienne, did you? And since you couldn’t stop us from getting married, you’re demanding our divorce. That other person in my life is perfect for you for the simple reason that she is from our region and gives you gifts, which you will very quickly forget just as you’ve forgotten those from Emilienne. If it didn’t come from you, the argument about my double love life would be valid, because I don’t believe that it is my happiness that you ultimately want. What do you want, exactly, Mama?”

  Eyang was silent for a few seconds and then responded, more composed:

  “If your wife were looking to save her marriage, she would not spend her evenings out. I wonder if she has a lover. She has nothing to lose since she is incapable of having any more children.” Eyang’s voice became more aggressive: “You want to know what I really think? Well, you’re right; your wife does not suit me. What kind of a wife spends her days and a good part of her nights at women’s meetings making demands for I don’t know what rights, as if she’s intent on changing our traditions! Do you think that she could actually make a name for herself in this country if she doesn’t know how to be a good wife and cannot bear children like all the other women? Can you tell me what use she is to you now? I don’t want to do her any harm, but I am certain she’ll be happier without you. And if she were really intelligent, she would ask for a divorce so that both of you would be free, unless, of course, she’s afraid that she won’t find anyone else, and prefers the humiliation which you are making her suffer in this city.”

  Joseph gave his mother a penetrating stare, then relaxed and looked at his watch.

  “It’s late, Mama, I have to go. We’ll continue this fascinating conversation very soon. Do the children need anything?”

  He looked in his pocket, took out five one-thousand franc bills, handed them to his mother, and got up.

  “How can you be proud of this life you are leading? Oh, what your father must be thinking in his grave! No one can say that they want others to be happy when they’re not happy themselves. You’ll blame your wife later for your weakness, which today you see as a sign of your fidelity or honesty.” She got up and went on, this time in French: “When will you come to see us again?”

  “Good night, Mama,” her son said, also speaking French—the conversations between mother and son were always held in their local language. Occasionally, when Emilienne was there, they spoke in French.

  HE KISSED his mother on the forehead and went out practically running.

  Eyang sat down after she’d switched off the light in the room. The yard was bathed in natural light. Her cheeks fluttered like a half-filled balloon. She was grinding her teeth and pushed her mouth forward showing her anger. Who could blame her for thinking of her old age and the future of her child? At sixty, she felt she was living with a ghost for a son and a daughter-in-law whom she upset and who upset her. What would become of this unstable situation if she didn’t take it upon herself to set it straight? Would her son be able to stand up to his wife if the latter wanted to get rid of her? Where would she go live? Not with Antoinette—her husband hated his own wife’s children. “They’ll end up sending me to my cousin’s place in the village, and I will die alone, far away from my children. There is no way I’m going to allow this woman to take my son away from me.”

  When Emilienne’s key clinked in the lock of the door, Eyang closed her eyes and held her breath. After a moment, which to her seemed an eternity, she started running out of breath. Holding her hand over her heart, she opened her eyes wide; then opening her mouth wide as well, Eyang let out a hoarse grumble. Emilienne had turned on the lights in the room and was standing over her. In the weighty silence that surrounded them, the two pairs of eyes confronted each other. Eyang was the first to blink, then, with her head held high, she stood up and walked with a dignified air toward her bedroom.

  AT 6 A.M., the old woman was sitting on the roadside waiting impatiently for a taxi to come. Over her long striped dress that fell over her rubber sandals, she wore a turtleneck sweater, so worn its original color was difficult to identify. Women and children passed by her carrying baskets and basins on their backs or on their heads overflowing with the provisions they were bringing to sell at the market a couple of miles down the road. Out of curiosity, some passersby came back to stare at the old woman then hurried on their way. It is important to know that over the past several months there had been stories of ghosts wandering around the city. People claimed to have crossed their paths in the wee hours of the morning, between three and five o’clock, some of them naked, others dressed, all of them beautiful young women with long flowing white hair, who would disappear and reappear at the city’s major intersections. Although one could not compare Eyang with these mysterious young women, appearing at the crack of dawn in a nearly deserted street, she did frighten those early morning walkers, some of whom did not seem fully awake yet.

  She did not wait long. The illuminated sign of a taxi appeared in the distance. Eyang rose to her feet and walked right into the middle of the road so that the driver would have to stop. And he did, coming to a sudden halt in front of the old woman.

  “You trying to get yourself run over, Mama?” the taxi driver shouted.

  “She is mad,” one of the passengers in the taxi said harshly.

  “That woman looks like a witch,” said the second passenger. “You’d better not let her get into your taxi.”

  Eyang smiled, exposing all of her yellow teeth.

  “Hello, son,” she muttered deliberately. “Do you want to bring me to Nomba? Thanks, son—I knew you weren’t going to say no.”

  The driver shook his head and then guffawed at the old woman’s obsequious words.

  “Mama, even at your age you still manage to charm the men! Come on, get in.”

  “Have her get in front next to you, then,” the second passenger said sharply. “Don’t be fooled by her seeming innocence. Old women like her are very dangerous. She knows exactly what she wants and will not back down from anyone.”

  The driver opened the door for her. Eyang had regained her impenetrable air. Deep inside, she quivered with anger. How could people she didn’t even know treat her like that, she whose son, with his diplomas and good looks, would crush those two passengers stinking of rotten cassava? “They’ll pay for this,” she grumbled.

  “What are you saying, Mama?” the taxi driver asked.

  Eyang turned her head and looked out at the passing trees, withdrawing into a silence that contrasted with her earlier smile.

  “Aren’t you afraid of going out alone so early in the morning?” the driver continued. “You could be attacked, or someone could snatch your purse.”

  Eyang held on to her small bag clutching it tightly between her legs.

  SHE WAS PRACTICALLY skipping along the path to the home of her son’s mistress. A moment ago, she’d nearly slipped on a stone. Luckily, her reflex had been to grab onto a clump of grass along the path’s edge. The young woman, leaning against the window drinking a cup of coffee, jumped when she saw her. Looking worried, she ran to open the door for her.

  “What’s going on? Is something wrong at the house?”

  “No, no, relax. Is he here?”

  “Yes, snoring away.”

  “He’s going to have to rent a house for you in a nice neighborhood. Well, I didn’t come for that. Pour me a coffee and bring me some croissants if you’ve got any left.”

  She sat down. The young woman took two croissants out of the freezer and heated them up in the oven.

  “Listen, my dear,” the old woman said firmly. “He is not about to leave his wife. I was wrong to think that their child’s death would cause a definite break. So, listen to me carefully. I’ve found another way to bring about their divorce. We’re going to go after the wife. Do everything you can to become friends with her. Once you see that she trusts you, let me know, and I will put the second phase of my plan into motion. In the meantime, do as I’ve just told you. And I am
going to do all I can to really upset her. If the two of us are not able to get her out of my son’s life, I will leave this city. Try to make him love you more, too. I hope you’re not already behaving like a married woman who has nothing left to give or to prove. Be careful! No fetishes. I don’t want you to make him go crazy.”

  Eyang stared at the coffeepot and warm croissants, tapped her right foot rhythmically, then smiled, and after a long silence added:

  “That would be a weapon to use later on if . . .”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing—in any event, we’ll see. Why don’t you try to get close to Antoinette? She could be useful to you. If things go our way, she will be your sister-in-law.”

  “I think she really likes Emilienne.”

  “Oh! You know! Her attitude toward Emilienne will change as soon as I talk to her. Don’t forget, I am her mother.”

  “Thank you, Mama Eyang!” the young woman said as she walked the old woman to the main road.

  “Don’t be in a hurry to thank me. You’ll have all the time in the world to do that after my son has married you.”

  SHE SHUT the taxi door, and it took off. When the car had slowed down to drop her at home, Eyang asked the driver to bring her instead to the luxury housing complex where Antoinette and her husband lived. They were in an eighth-floor apartment of a modern building. The new development was only two years old and had seven buildings of ten floors each. On the ground floor, there were shops, cafés, beauty salons, butcher shops, banks, and several other businesses. There was also an enormous circular parking lot around the complex.

  For the first time, Eyang had to take the elevator alone. Had it occurred to her that she would have to do this, she’d have been happy to talk to her daughter over the telephone. Until now, she’d always gone up accompanied by one of her children. Even though she knew perfectly well which button to press to call the elevator and which door to ring once she reached the eighth floor, she hesitated. What would she do if she were to get stuck in what she called the haunted box? Would she still be alive when they found her? She looked around; no, no one was heading toward the elevators. All the residents were at work and their kids at school. Just as she began to go back, regretful that she’d made the useless trip, a little girl all out of breath came toward her. She pushed the elevator button, and the door opened immediately. Eyang rushed in before the little girl even got in. The old woman smiled at her. She recognized the child now, a neighbor on Antoinette’s floor. Both of them got off on the eighth floor.

  “You can’t live in a normal house like your brother?” her mother scolded as soon as her daughter opened the door. “You never did do anything like everyone else, and your husband is just as odd as you. You two are so afraid of people disturbing you that you prefer to lock yourself up in this can of corned beef.”

  “Mama,” Antoinette said, smiling, “you say the same thing each time you come here. Hey! Why have you come here all alone at this hour?”

  “I have to talk to you about something serious, and I need your help,” Eyang said as she followed her daughter to the living room.

  It was an enormous room, and all the décor and each piece of furniture seemed to have been made for its space. The old woman sat down on the brown leather armless low-back chair.

  “Are you aware that your brother has a mistress?”

  “Come on! He just has a ‘second office’ like every other man in this country, perhaps even a third. You certainly haven’t come over here to talk about my brother’s love life!”

  “I really need to talk to someone about it. And don’t make that face! I want your brother to marry his current mistress, whom I know well. Well! Of course she isn’t as educated as Emilienne. She does however have something which for me trumps my daughter-in-law’s supposed qualities: she is from back home. And, she is very beautiful. You know, my dear child, since I’ve lived under the same roof with your sister-in-law, I don’t trust those women who’ve been to the top-notch schools as you say. What I want from you is quite simple. First, try to find out what that woman is up to.”

  “Which one?”

  “What do you mean which one! I am talking about Emilienne, of course. Does she still want to have children? And can she? What does she think of her marriage? Once you have all this information, I’ll know how to use it against her. And ask your brother to bring you to see his mistress. She’s a fine girl.”

  “Have you finished, Mama?” Antoinette asked, her voice suddenly broken.

  “What’s wrong with your voice?” her mother asked, infuriated. “You’re not going to start crying!”

  “With good reason.” Two big tears fell from the young woman’s lashes. “Unbelievable. Is it really you, my mother, who just spouted out such rubbish? You are asking me to help you get rid of your daughter-in-law! Don’t you know what you owe her, Mama?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Let me tell you. Thanks to Emilienne, seven years ago you were able to have your eyes operated on in France. Without that operation, you would be walking around with a cane now or you would be laid up in a chair. It’s also because of your daughter-in-law that you receive free care in the most expensive clinic in the city each time you fall sick. The majority of the clothes you wear come from her. Those, dear mother, are but a few specific examples of the ways in which your daughter-in-law helps you out. Even if she hadn’t been so attentive to your needs, I find it disgraceful that you are plotting to evict her from her family home. I find it intolerable that you come to ask me to assist you in your Machiavellian scheme. What would you say if my mother-in-law was doing the same to me? What kind of mother are you anyway?!”

  Antoinette got up and headed toward the bay window. She stood immobile in front of it, fuming with almost uncontrollable anger. But her argument did not make her mother back down; rather, she countered harshly:

  “I will not allow you to speak disrespectfully to me. It is completely normal that my daughter-in-law would help me out in the ways you’ve just listed. That doesn’t at all change what I think of her, nor my decision to get her away from my son. My rights and duties to Joseph are most important. He may be a man, but he’s still my boy. I know what’s good for him, and no one can make him happy better than I can. Everything that troubles him gets me right here”—she kneaded her lower abdomen. “Everything stirs up in there if anything serious happens to you or your brother. Do you understand now why I am so hard on that woman? I suffered in order to bring you both into the world and to take care of you after your father’s death. And I continue to want what’s best for you. Before you insult me, try to put yourself in my place. Do you think it is easy to wage this type of battle at my age? I owe it to myself to repair the damage I caused when I allowed my son to marry that woman. I am doing it for all of us. You’ll understand when your kids are grown.”

  She got up and concluded:

  “I forbid you to speak of this visit to your brother.”

  Antoinette responded to her mother’s words by opening the door wide.

  “Did you hear what I said?” her mother asked from the doorway. “I will not give up on this, and damn you if you try to betray me. There will no longer be two women under my son’s roof, and the one who replaces Emilienne will be under my orders.”

  The elevator closed on her. Eyang’s words were still ringing in Antoinette’s ears as she flopped down onto the couch. She felt dizzy. She was afraid, very afraid.

  At the same time, she was already in a panic thinking of the repercussions to such machinations. Words are not so strong. Would she keep this secret? There was no question she would talk with her husband about it. He would go and tell Joseph right away, and the latter wouldn’t stand for his mother’s taking such steps. Talking about it with Emilienne would only cause exactly what she wanted to avoid: divorce. Moreover, she couldn’t go to war with her own mother by publicly siding with her sister-in-law. “Unbelievable. Has my mother lost her head? I’ve got
to see her again before it’s too late,” Antoinette concluded on her way to her hairdresser. “I will make sure that she puts a stop to this diabolical plan.”

  OUTSIDE IN THE GARDEN where she was picking flowers, Emilienne jumped when she heard Roxanne barking desperately, followed immediately by barking that sounded almost human. Her basket slipped out of her hands, and her gladioli, acanthus, and hybrid arctotis scattered across the lawn.

  She was completely out of breath when she reached the kitchen door, which she shoved open. The dog was lying under the sink in a pool of blood. She had an open wound on her right side.

  Standing in the middle of the kitchen, Eyang held a machete in one hand and her scarf in the other, with which she wiped her face. Her short white hair was standing on end. Her rangy, long-limbed body rocked back and forth. She glanced unwaveringly from the animal to the machete.

  Shuddering, Emilienne rushed over to the dog and shook her fiercely. The animal was weakened by the acute pain and struggled to wag her tail. Emilienne got up and sighed. Without bothering with her mother-in-law, she went out, came back in with the kennel of liana vines and put the animal inside. Still racing around, like a perfectly calibrated robot, she placed the kennel on the backseat, leapt into the driver’s seat, and took off. Only as she was flying at 60 mph did she wonder whether the veterinarian, like most city dwellers who fancied sunbathing and Sunday drives, might have gone to one of the many urban wooded areas scattered around the city.

  When the city was undergoing modernization, the first mayor ordered all such forests to be razed to the ground because, he said, they made the city look untamed. In order to convince the chiefs—or at least their great-grandchildren, who held the positions of the chiefs and who were boldly against the big operation to raze the ancestral forests—he used this type of language, which was recorded in the annals of history: