The Fury and Cries of Women

by Angèle Rawiri

  He pulled at his shirt flaps, which ripped with a high-pitched screech, leaving his protruding ribs exposed for the two women to see.

  “Here, now scram,” Emilienne said, handing him a 1,000 franc bill.

  “Thank you, Madame, thank you very much.”

  “Poor kid,” Dominique commented as the elevator door opened.

  “Come by and see me in a little bit; I have to speak with you,” Emilienne said as she opened the door to her office.

  “Okay, I’ll open up my office and be right there,” the secretary replied, intrigued by her employer’s expressionless face.

  “WE HAVEN’T HAD the chance to talk since I got out of the hospital,” Emilienne said as Dominique sat down, her hands clenching her open bag.

  “About that, I wanted to say that I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you at the hospital. The thing is . . .”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Emilienne cut her off. “I’ve decided to end our relationship. You and I are involved with men whom we care for, and our relationship could hurt them. Besides, it’s not appropriate.”

  Dominique tensed up, held her bag tightly to her, and then calmly started to dig around inside her bag before placing it on the desk.

  “I am not opposed to us seeing each other just as friends, and, if you’re having problems, you can talk with me about them.”

  Dominique, who until then had contained herself, burst out sobbing.

  “You don’t love me anymore, is that it? What are you blaming me for? Have you managed to get your husband back? It’s his fault!”

  “Stop this drama, please. My husband’s return is not the only reason for this breakup. In any case, for those who are dear to us, we can no longer keep our relationship going. I know that you’re smart enough to see the wisdom in my decision.”

  Dominique sat up defiantly in her chair.

  “How can you be so naïve as to think that your husband has come back to you for good? Can you swear that he is no longer making love to his mistress?”

  It was Emilienne’s turn to jump, tapping her hand on the table.

  “Listen, little girl, this problem is my business. From now on I forbid you to meddle in it. Do you understand?”

  Dominique let out a sarcastic laugh and whisked the door open violently.

  “Don’t be stupid and mean,” Emilienne yelled after her secretary as she left her office.

  THE YOUNG SECRETARY was already racing down the stairwell and running to her car. The chauffeur, sitting on the grass, caught the keys she threw at him in midair.

  Fifteen minutes later, Dominique threw herself like a poisoned arrow into the elevator of a small five-story building, bumping, in her haste, into the occupant, who was stuffed into a tight dress.

  When she’d arrived on the fifth floor, she shoved open the secretary’s door with a bang, interrupting the latter, who was crocheting a doily.

  “The boss is expecting me.”

  Before the secretary even had the time to inform her employer of her arrival, Dominique turned the golden knob of the padded door and then shut it right away behind her.

  “What are you doing here? Get out right now—you are not at home here. I don’t want any scandals.”

  “Don’t use that tone with me,” the young woman snapped back nastily. “I have something for you to listen to, Mr. Joseph Eyang,” she added, taking a tape recorder out of her bag and placing it on the desk.

  Then, with a contemptuous smile, she rewound the cassette.

  “Sit down; otherwise you’re going to have a very bad fall in a minute. I had a little conversation with your dear wife a few minutes ago, and I thought it might interest you.”

  “What is the meaning of all of this?” Joseph grumbled. “If you have something to say to me, do it quickly. I don’t have time to lose. And you’re not telling me anything new, saying that you’ve just seen my wife; I think you work together. And what are you doing with this cassette player?”

  In response to all, Dominique pressed the button. And, as soon as he identified his wife’s voice by the first words she’d spoken, Joseph jumped up, went over to the cassette player, and stopped it.

  “Who do you think you are, recording my wife on a cassette player? This little joke must stop right now; leave this office.”

  “Sit down, Joe, the rest is more interesting, and it would be a shame to deprive you of the information I am bringing to you on a silver platter.”

  Joseph’s curiosity prevailed over his anger. He sat down, staring at the machine, which Dominique started playing again. The crackling of the tape, no doubt old, didn’t muffle the conversation, which they could hear distinctly.

  Joseph let his head fall on the backrest of the armchair with a vexed look.

  “There you have it,” Dominique began with a threatening smile. “Any explanation would seem useless to me. So listen to me carefully. I demand that you leave your wife in the next twenty-four hours. Yes,” she said smiling, “I’m leaving you a little time to get your things together. If you refuse, know that I will tell the world that your wife is a lesbian. In a month, we will marry.”

  As at the time of his daughter’s death, Joseph let big tears run down his face, this time in front of a woman. The pen he was holding fell from his hand. His red eyes blinked nervously. His forehead creased.

  “You have no choice, my dear. I will not be satisfied purely by denouncing your wife’s vice if you refuse to marry me. I will make it so that you also lose her, since you still find her charming. You will not buy me with a car and not even with a house if you are not part of the package. Nothing will make me change my mind.”

  She sat down on Joseph’s worktable, bursting with laughter.

  “You are the devil in person,” Joseph muttered. “What did you do to pervert my wife, because I know it was you who dragged her into the mud?”

  “Oh! I didn’t have to make much effort. She was so unhappy because of you that all I had to do was to be a little attentive to her problems and get close to her, very close to her.”

  An inhuman cackle burst from Dominique’s fleshy mouth.

  “You didn’t actually believe that I was going to let you get back together,” she added, “and be satisfied with this car that you offered to me so that I would give you up! I had a very carefully devised plan to win you back, a plan that your wife hastened without even knowing it. Think of your mother, darling. Don’t worry; I know how to make you happier than you already were with me up to now.”

  She pulled him to her and held his trembling lips. In a brutal gesture, Joseph slapped her.

  The young woman doubled over, both hands on her cheeks. She was shuddering, her look, bewildered.

  “How could you believe I would marry you after such plotting? If my wife allowed herself to be sullied by you, I am responsible for it. Good God! You are the reincarnation of the devil! Get out of here before I call the police!”

  He hurled himself at her again and gave her a violent kick. Dominique collapsed.

  “A woman like you is not going to make me separate from my wife. And I had thought you worthy of being the mother of my children . . .”

  In a threatening voice drowned by stifled cries, Dominique retorted:

  “I’ll have my revenge! Your mother is on my side. Your cook, too, for that matter. Nobody at your house wants her.”

  “Get out of here,” Joseph shouted.

  He took her by the shoulders and threw her forcefully toward the door.

  Left alone, Joseph took out his cigar and swallowed the smoke as he puffed on it, until he was seized with a fit of coughing, which alarmed his secretary.

  “Are you all right, sir?” she asked, opening the door wide and keeping it open.

  “Fine, fine, go back to your desk.”

  He sat down behind his desk, then got up. Making a fist with his hands, he paced around the office.

  This story exceeded all bounds; it would be beyond the imagination of anyone who knew his wife. He was
so distressed that he rushed to the closet and took out a full bottle of whiskey and gulped it down straight from the bottle. His eyes half closed, staggering, he felt around the door to find the handle, which he had trouble getting a grip on, and went out.

  AFTER TRYING SEVERAL times unsuccessfully to reach her secretary by phone, Emilienne, worried, decided to go reason with her. She opened her door and found herself in the hallway filled with about twenty employees.

  “What are you doing in the hallway? Why aren’t you at your desks?”

  “We have decided unanimously to stop working until our grievances are satisfied.”

  Examining each face, Emilienne saw their great determination. Already last week, the personnel’s delegates had asked to be heard by the general manager. The latter turned down the meeting in a memo sent to all.

  After her secretary had explained the situation to her, Emilienne had understood that the federal employees were demanding a raise in their transportation and housing allowances, as well as their salary, which had been frozen for three years.

  Emilienne knew that obviously the general manager would reject these demands. Already, during a management meeting, he had justified his decision by evoking the difficult economic conditions that had made state companies the first victims. This argument, given to employees so many times in the past, had not, apparently, been convincing.

  While the young woman tried to calm the demonstrators, promising to review the situation with the general manager, whose office was on the second floor, the telephone rang in her office. She was informed by the administrative secretary that a meeting with all managers would be held immediately. And, while they were seated, the employees gathered in the large conference room. They decided unanimously not to yield until their demands were met.

  A minority among them, essentially made up of the protégés of some managing directors, disassociated themselves from the movement and left the room. Tempers flared.

  In the general manager’s office, opinions were divided. Some directors proposed holding a general meeting, whereas others opposed any dialogue, to the satisfaction of the general manager as well as of the chairman of the board of directors, who was called at home expressly for this meeting.

  After half an hour of fruitless discussion, the general manager adjourned the meeting after he’d announced the dismissal of any employee who continued to strike. His colleagues all knew that, in reality, this last measure was an order given by the minister in charge of state companies. So they backed down, some with resignation, others with satisfaction.

  He went up, in any case, to announce his decision to the employees still gathered in the conference room. Following his brief and threatening speech, astonishment appeared on all their faces. In a heavy silence, the staff’s delegate took the floor to call for the continuation of the strike and the immediate seizure of the National Work Union. There was a burst of applause and loud cheers.

  “You’re wasting your time,” the general manager yelled as he left the room followed by his colleagues.

  Throughout it all, the foreign aid workers had remained cooped up in their offices and continued to work.

  Disturbed by it all, Emilienne went home. Her cook ran to open the gate for her. He informed her, even before she got out of the car, that her sister had been hospitalized.

  “What happened? She wasn’t supposed to go into labor for another month.”

  “I believe, Madame, that she’s had some complications.”

  “Which hospital did they bring her to?”

  “To Dr. Pascal’s clinic. It was your mother who called; she wasn’t able to reach you at your office.”

  “Okay, I’m going. Tell my husband to join me there.”

  She took off.

  IN THE ROOM with her sister were two of her children, her husband, and their relatives.

  “What’s wrong, Eva—don’t tell me that your child is growing impatient in your womb?”

  Eva started crying. Her mother leaned over her.

  “Emie, it’s awful. My baby has been dead for two weeks in my womb. Can you believe it! And I didn’t believe it. You cannot know how horrible that is!”

  “What are you talking about? What does all this mean?”

  Emilienne in her panic started screaming.

  “Let’s go out for a minute,” her sister’s husband said.

  “This isn’t happening,” Emilienne added, crying now too. “You’re not in your first pregnancy. How can such a thing be happening!”

  The two sisters held each other tightly. Jean left the room, and Emilienne followed.

  “About ten days ago,” he explained, “your sister complained about not feeling the baby moving. I asked her to tell Dr. Pascal about it immediately.”

  “Then why didn’t he take the necessary steps at that time?”

  “She didn’t tell him. You know how she is. She assured me there was nothing to be alarmed about since it wasn’t her first pregnancy.”

  “You should have called the doctor yourself anyway. This child would have definitely been saved ten days ago.”

  “I was convinced she was right . . .”

  He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose loudly. Despite his height, his body appeared to have been diminished by his sorrow. His barrel-shaped paunch rose and fell to the rhythm of his loud breathing.

  “So it was only yesterday that we went to see Dr. Pascal. And this morning, after the ultrasound, he told her to stay so that he could induce the birth right away.”

  “If the child died two weeks ago, it doesn’t seem to me that an induced birth is the best solution. The baby is obviously decomposing. Why doesn’t he do a cesarean on her?”

  “He told me he wants to avoid that; a hemorrhage could be fatal to her.”

  “Oh my god! This is not happening.”

  She collapsed again.

  Her brother-in-law pulled her to him. They clung to each other until a nurse brought in another drip bag.

  “Don’t worry,” she said to reassure them. “Everything will be okay. It is better that the child die, rather than the mother.”

  “She’s right,” Emilienne muttered. “Let’s go to her. The most important thing now is to save her.”

  The family members present helped put the second drip bag in place. Eva relaxed and began to joke.

  “If you want to lift my spirits, try to smile. Dear, just because this time I’m not going to bring our baby home doesn’t mean I lose the consideration due to a mother, and I want us to make another one as soon as I get out of here. We will use the layette that Emie bought for us. As for you, Papa, Mama, I promise you that I will give you a grandson soon.”

  Everyone finally smiled. Her two children gave her warm hugs.

  “The doctor will be in to see you in a minute,” the nurse said as she went out. “He will deliver you at nightfall.”

  “Do you need anything, dear?” her husband asked. “I’m going to take the kids home, and I’ll come back right afterward.”

  “No, I’m fine. Give them a hug and a kiss for me and come back quickly, please.”

  “Come, children, your place is not here.”

  “I’m going to stop home, too. I won’t be long. Papa, Mama, you stay. Shall I bring you something to eat?”

  “No, my child, I’m not hungry, and I don’t think your dad will eat at all until this nightmare is over.”

  “Okay! See you later,” Emilienne said as she kissed her sister on both cheeks. “You’ll see, everything will be fine.”

  EMILIENNE PARKED her car in front of the gate and ran toward the kitchen door. Hearing the voices of her husband and mother-in-law arguing, she stood there motionless. Intrigued, she headed stealthily to the terrace, where she could better make out their words. From inside, Eyang’s voice boomed.

  “What has gotten into you? The mother of your children just told me that you broke up with her. How could you have made such a decision?”

  “Let me lead
my life my way! Any way I choose is fine!”

  “I’ve had all the time in the world to think it over! Your wife doesn’t deserve you, period, that’s all. And let me tell you that you have gone completely mad.”

  “Let’s end this conversation right there, okay!” Joseph growled.

  “I’ve merely begun, and you will hear me out. What is going on, Son? Do you realize that you have just abandoned beautiful children and a woman who loves you for that . . .?”

  “Oh, will you stop!”

  “No! I will not stop. What do you find so extraordinary in a woman who spends all her time with witch doctors? Wasn’t it you yourself who confided in me a week ago that she was getting fondled by a white witch doctor?”

  “You’re twisting my words! I never told you that it was a witch doctor nor that she was being fondled. You know perfectly well she wants to give me a child! It’s what she still wants!”

  “Oh! But you don’t want that anymore! So leave her! I’m going to tell you. Do you know how many years it will take her to give you another child? Have you forgotten that she’s been seeing quacks and doctors frequently for over ten years? And now she’s turning to white witch doctors. That woman is leading you in a merry dance. What will she come up with the next time she fails?!”

  Emilienne clung to the iron grate outside the bay window. In the house, Eyang’s voice became more menacing.

  “Son, you are casting me out by leaving the mother of your children. If you don’t call her right now and tell her that you’re sorry, I’m warning you, I will not stay one more minute under this roof.”

  The guard passed in front of Emilienne, a rake in his hand.

  THE YOUNG WOMAN pushed open the bay window and climbed inside very quietly. The mother and son jumped.

  “Ah! You’re here?” Eyang asked, giving a slight smirk.

  Serene, Emilienne sat down facing them.

  “I listened with great interest to a good part of your conversation,” she began, staring into her mother-in-law’s embarrassed eyes. “I don’t know what decision your son would have made after your threats, and in any case that doesn’t matter anymore. I urge you to take him with you wherever you would like, tonight. That also goes for your grandchildren, obviously. When I come back, I want to find the house empty; that would be in one hour.”