Married But Available

by B. Nyamnjoh

She continued with Donald’s letter. “Donald also wanted me to send him copies of my birth and other certificates, so he could start the process of procuring residency for me as his wife, to enable me join him in Muzunguland eventually. So when I said I wasn’t interested, he wrote something like this: ‘Talking about your birth certificate and the idea of acquiring status, I am still lamenting about your feelings on all this. It is true that gold on a pig’s nose is not worth a pinch of salt. Yes my badly written letter just soiled all the good intentions I had. And I am really sorry for I can’t change the things you thought, your interpretations... But at least I can explain, with the wish that you can understand. What I meant to say was, I wanted to apply for some status or more so, travelling papers through which you can come here as my wife or fiancée... I am sorry I did not really explain this to you. I never meant that you don’t have any status now and so I should give you one. That thought of yours really gives me a picture on how low you look at me, like a braggart.’”

  “Didn’t he threaten to send you whiteman-woman clothes, jewellery, perfumes, lotions or something?” Lilly Loveless’s face broadened with a smile at the use of the word ‘whiteman-woman’.

  “You are a witch, Lilly. A mind reader,” said Britney. “You should be doing psychology, so you can qualify as a modern diviner.”

  “So he did? What did he say?”

  “He ended the formal part of the letter, I think, with: ‘I still intend to know your dress and shoe sizes. And please don’t interpret this like – he thinks I don’t have shoes or clothes. Just do it, you can give me a gift, but it doesn’t mean I cannot live without it.’ Then again, he pleaded for forgiveness: ‘Darlin’ Brit, forgive me for all, let’s be cool with each other. Nothing can convince me that you don’t love me still. I know you loved me wholly and truly. And I did love you and I still do, sincerely.’

  “In pencil, he added, I still remember vividly: ‘My Darlin’ Brit, I wrote this letter some three weeks ago, with the intention of posting it to you in Zintgraffstown. Since I called and was told you have since returned to Puttkamerstown, I thought it might get there when you were away. Anyway, I am feeling very sick at the moment and maybe I would die. But I would like to first of all ask for your forgiveness and you should know that I loved you dearly. And even at this moment, I still want you to be my wife. If my health fails me, please do me the favour of naming one of your kids after me. Thanks.’”

  “Sounds like emotional blackmail to me,” said Lilly Loveless.

  “It was,” confessed Britney. “And that’s how he came back to the centre of my life, and for some time, my heart was divided between him and Providence, whose patience was, with the benefit of the hindsight I now have, wearing thin. Donald came back home on holidays, and swept me off my feet with promises of heaven and earth, only for communication to dry up between us upon his return to Muzunguland.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “I wrote him a letter, the contents of which I’m sure you are dying to know.”

  “You don’t even have to ask. Tell me,” said Lilly Loveless, excitedly.

  “I photocopied it, because this was the most emotional letter I had ever written, and I didn’t want to forget the particular emotions behind writing it.” Britney opened her handbag and took out carefully fold sheets of paper. As she unfolded them, Lilly Loveless asked: “What made you come along with the letter?”

  “Don’t tell me you are that forgetful, Lilly,” replied Britney. “Have you forgotten you’ve insisted you wanted to hear my own story? Or have you fallen out of love with love stories? And do I need to guess you are obsessed with detail?”

  “I see you read me like a book,” Lilly Loveless smiled her appreciation.

  Britney started reading.

  “The letter went thus: ‘Donald, my Darling Prince. Greetings! It’s always a pleasure writing to you dear, anywhere and anytime. Did you receive my two letters and my voice message of a certain 14th February left on your answering machine? I hope you did and are still about to reply to them – I am waiting patiently. How says life over there, especially with the kind of stress I have been made to understand you go through to have even the most menial of jobs? Bookwork and a number of jobs can really be backbreaking, courage my dear, success does not come on a gold platter, hope I am not stating the obvious.

  “‘Oh what a day, I just thought of picking up my pen and writing to you, hoping you can spare a few minutes to read from me and therefore I am sure you don’t mind my letter at all. Well, I guess not, Fine. And now Donald!! Do you still love the same Darlin’ Brit you used to say you did and repeatedly said so six months ago? Does it ever cross your mind that somebody like her is somewhere millions of kilometres away, who needs to hear from you? If so then have you been so damn busy to at least drop a word of salutation on her behalf, reminding her to hold on tight you still care? Hey boy, do you remember the promise of a second chance? Letting bygones be bygones and things to take a new and promising turn? Do you remember your reunion with a daughter you wanted aborted? Now therefore, tell me, why the hell have you not for the sake of ‘politesse’ sent a note, or a telephone call or even a damn hello through your numerous phone calls to your friends?

  “‘Answer these, is it still the same, or were you just saying all what you said for convenience? Do you still think about me at all? Do you still need me? Do you still even care about me or better still does the name Brit ring any bell at all? I want to believe and hurtingly so, that it does not. For if it did, you would not be so silent for the past six months knowing how much I want to hear from you. Let me know dear, or is my Prince Donald playing the gentleman who is afraid to hurt someone who loves him or do you lack the guts to face me and tell me in no sparing words to go to hell? Oh come on guy, come out with it, and let me know, I will survive don’t forget I am always a survivor in life. I want to think that my behaviour towards you while you were here is the cause of this. Are you by any chance still annoyed that I refused to make love with you? Or that I did or did not do something you wanted me to do or not do?

  “‘Stop playing the coward, I know you can do better than that. Tell me boy, give it to me, I will take whatever now than ever before. We better put a full stop to this thing in the name of a relationship if the shit cannot work any longer. Look at it with some keenness once in a while and tell me where we are heading. I mean guy, you came back home, we had a nice time and a nice talk, and you go for months, yes, Donald, six good months and you don’t only stay without writing or sending greetings, you don’t even reply to my letters, send a quick email, or return my calls. You expect me to believe it’s a matter of distance. Yet you are snobbishly silent only towards me. There is so much that is needed in a distant relationship than we have right now; exchange of letters and emails, there is something like phone calls and what have you. I wrote to you and sent my cell phone number, and yet nothing came.

  “‘Think over it please, what am I supposed to think or do if you cherish silence more than any other thing? It surprises me because of what is happening. Damn it Donald, be realistic. I will appreciate it if you pick up your phone one day and tell me or a friend of yours or mine to tell me you still love me or that I should forget about you. It will make more sense than holding on confusedly to this living and partly living sort of relationship. God knows it hurts.

  “‘I know and believe that very soon you would give me an ‘I have been busy baby shit’, tell me you are so busy that you cannot make five minutes out of your tight schedule to drop a few lines to your Darlin’ Brit or even a line in-between your conversations with Teddy almost every week. Donald, he tells me you call almost every time when possible and yet you don’t even ask him to say hello. Soyon serieux mon cher, ça fait mal. Come to think of it, you even call Teddy on my birthday, and you don’t extend as much as a happy birthday. You once said that if we stopped this relationship, I will still be a dear friend. Tell me is this even what friends are for? Behold you cannot even as
k Teddy to extend a sign towards me on your behalf? Maybe it holds up to what you once said: Now that you love me so much my love for you is dying. Then tell me.

  “‘Donald, I need somebody, and that person is you, to talk to, to love and to be loved in return. I want to exchange ideas with you, feel loved, and feel wanted despite the distance. Intentionally or not you have made a very significant impact on my life that at times eats up my heart in self pity. I have tried to lie to myself about how much I can ignore my feelings to no avail. Life will not be the same with you totally out of my scene for you remain in my thoughts and dreams. So please do me a favour, spell things out, I am a big girl and I can with time heal my wounds. Your silence is so hurtful and keeps me worried day and night, day after day.

  “‘These past six months have been hell. I have been watching and waiting for your messages from your friends and brother. Every time I meet Teddy or Willy or Charly, I am always expecting to get a message from you but no, all I get is Donald called. Yes, but we had other important things to discuss and he hung up hurriedly. In the silence of their mouths I can read the words ‘but he did not bother to ask about you even on your birthday’. And what about your own daughter, Donald, can’t you feel for her? You fled when she was conceived, can’t you feel now that she’s survived at all odds?

  “‘Obviously Donald, you need to say something and quickly if possible, let me know I have someone who loves me as much as I love you. Tell me if you still want me, if you really need me, and if I am not dreaming, and more especially if I mean anything to you. Things have changed? Remember I will still love you no matter what. Best of luck. Yours, Britney.’

  “Feelings so strong just can’t be wrong, can they?” concluded Britney.

  Lilly Loveless opened her handbag for tissues.

  Britney was in tears.

  Lilly Loveless consoled her best as she could, and encouraged her to forget the bad experiences with Donald.

  “I’m thankful for having Providence in my life,” said Britney, in-between tears. “I hope that he is not up to anything out there in Muzunguland that would break by heart. As Adapepe would put it, a man is yours when he is on top of you. Out there, he can be anyone’s man. On my part, I’m determined not to give in to all the pressures and temptations that come my way. Real life isn’t a fairytale, but it’s the only option I’ve got, and I’m determined to make the best of it…”

  “Thanks for sharing your story with me, and like I said before, I’m not here to sit in judgment of you or anyone,” said Lilly Loveless, embracing Britney.

  “You are a friend. You've grown on me, and I feel comfortable with you. You’ve become like a sister,” said Britney, stroking Lilly Loveless’ hair. “I’m realizing we may not have much more time together. And I’m wondering what you think of all these stories we’ve collected.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Lilly Loveless.

  “I mean, you’re going to have to write up something about them aren’t you? I’m wondering how you think you are going to try to make sense of them.”

  “Those are good questions, Britney, but a little premature. I see you’re becoming a researcher in your own right. I’d actually be interested in what you think of the stories. What should I take back with me?”

  “That’s a tough one,” laughed Britney. “You are really good at wriggling out of questions and sending them back to the questioner, aren’t you?”

  “There are no right or wrong answers in these things, you know,” reassured Lilly Loveless. “Social research is all about collecting perceptions, opinions, views, beliefs and so on, from as many people as possible, which is what you’ve done so well over the past several months. So the question is, what would you take home with you from your stories, if you were me?”

  “It is difficult to think on my feet, given the mass of data, but a couple of points stand out.”

  Lilly Loveless was poised to write.

  “Marriage is not the same thing to men as it is for women,” Began Britney. “Women come into it committed, ready to make sacrifices and literally feeling at the mercy of their husbands who are terribly impatient with independent-minded or questioning women. Men want the benefits of marriage but not the headaches or responsibilities.”

  “Interesting point,” said Lilly Loveless, scribbling away.

  “Married or not, men feel helpless without a woman in their lives, as women seem to have the power to bring the best out of any man, a power which of course is often used and abused by men.”

  “You mean women give men a feeling of self-worth?”

  “Yes, and it is thanks to the self control which women have over their own feelings, something lacking in most men. Like new born children men often can’t quite express their needs. They may be hungry, but it takes a woman to know that their tantrums and naughtiness are due to hunger.”

  “Great analogy!”

  “It is clear from the stories, at least to me, that as women, we carry in us a resilient pride that has been battered for years. The bulk of men, we have seen, are like greedy monkeys who go for the banana, whether or not they are hungry and regardless of how many they already have.”

  “Why do you think they do it?”

  “Life without a purpose, that’s why.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Life must have a purpose,” stressed Britney. “A man must ask himself, ‘Am I seeing women, money, power or whatever as an end or as a means to an end.’ Those of them who see women, money or power as an end are unlikely to have the same attitude or purpose in life as those who see women, money or power as a means to an end. A man who sees women as a means would certainly not overindulge aimlessly and endlessly, as he is not interested in variety for the sake of variety. In short, a purpose in life means being able to determine our limits, which also means knowing how to pick up again and continue with life’s mission even when we fail…”

  “That’s a very good point, but I don’t quite understand,” said Lilly Loveless. “Could you explain it again?”

  “Simply, what I’m trying to say is that a man without a purpose in life pursues women aimlessly and endlessly. And the same applies for money and power.”

  “I never would have thought of it that way,” said Lilly Loveless. “I take it that this applies to women and their relationship to men, money and power just as well…”

  “Absolutely,” said Britney. “From my exchange with you, and from the little I know, courtship in Muzunguland doesn’t necessarily end in marriage. In Africa, with the exception of tomboys like Adapepe, the only reason for courtship is marriage. Every girl wants to be married. This is what society expects of you, so consumerism, however important, is second to marriage. When one is still young, the pressure to attain this goal is less intense. So high school and university girls can afford to play around with Mbomas, knowing that they have time ahead of them. It is only when they leave the university and age is no longer on their side that they begin to about settling down and settling for anything. Those who are lucky to have good and well-paying jobs are keen to crown these with marriage. Similarly, flying-shirts, because they are still young and the pressure to marry isn’t that acute, are not serious with the girls they meet, even when these girls are serious about love. When we believe the lies they tell us and a pregnancy occurs, they flee. They just want to have fun and move on, an attitude that pushes girls into the material arms of Mbomas.”

  “That’s most insightful,” said Lilly Loveless.

  “Another point, my last for now, which I would take away from the stories, is not to confuse between sex and love.”

  “Meaning…?”

  “While I may and should indeed have sex with the man I love, I do not necessarily love everyone I have sex with. This means that sex is a lot more common than love, and in many of the cases I have collected for you, sex often serves as a compass, pathfinder, roadmap or passport to love,” said Britney.

  “Excellent!” said Lilly Loveless. “I’l
l certainly come back to you for your insights when I start analyzing and interpreting your stories.”

  “Let me end by sharing with you a poem I wrote a couple of days ago, as I thought about the girls in the stories. It is called M & G.”

  “M&G? Mbomas & Girls, you mean?”

  “Yes, you got it.”

  “Splendid. I’m all ears.”

  Britney recited her poem:

  Marvellous it is

  What the eyes see

  Tenderness covers

  The touch of the hand

  Overwhelmed is the

  Heart’s desire

  Excitement!

  Overcomes the body

  But watch out!

  The heart warns

  Think twice

  Think deeply...

  Warning unheeded

  Love wasted

  Aimless endless hunger

  Fills the heart with anger…

  Oh Mommy! How I miss you!!

  Now I remember, but too late

  Your warnings, advice and visions

  Telling all and insisting

  Making it clear, I had to watch out

  ‘They will ruin you and get away’

  I wish I had listened to you

  I did not and I lost you

  I lost you to the cold hands,

  Those deathly hands that took you,

  Took with them my determination

  Determination to watch out always

  Now I miss you badly Mommy

  So badly that I cry over memories

  Memories of when I was your girl

  On the narrow path of life

  You knew only too well

  I have lost my way

  I know not how, nor where or when

  But I will find it

  That’s a promise.

  “Why does the poem start out about a lover and ends up about grieving a dead mother, if I may ask?”

  “Because the girl fails to heed her mother’s advice, until it is too late, as the mother has since passed on. Now she can only wish she had followed the narrow path her mother never tired of recommending her. But she is determined to repent, to be mommy’s sweet little girl once again.”