The Lion´s Den (Plight of Women in my Community) Short.

As the afternoon faded into evening, we could hear his footsteps approaching our hut. The thought of having him back home and facing him each day always sent a dark cloud to my hopeful heart. Father stepped into the kitchen hut, empty-handed, but expecting a nicely cooked meal. “Maswera sei nhai Shumba? Kwanga kurisei kumasango uko?" (Good afternoon my husband),  mother welcomed him respectfully with her feeble knees bending like a typical African woman.

To my utter surprise, father just kept his crooked and dry lips shut- no reply- he just walked towards the other side of our small hut and jutted himself at his usual spot facing the lively fireplace. Mother was not shocked for she knew all the swingy behaviors of her husband especially on 'blank' days.

"My husband, it is not proper to show Duchess that kind of behavior, she will grow to be a disrespectful and rebellious girl. I think it would be nice if we displayed our best part no matter the fights and the circumstances. Shumba! Are you listening to me? Please listen and………."

Mother could not finish her usual 'guiding sayings' as she was already on our cow dung plastered floor. I bet that moment she had a terrible headache because I believe from the sound of the clap, the slap was extremely terribly. I could actually feel the pain all over my body myself.

With multiplied anger and fury, mother got up after a minute of silence. Like a frightened grasshopper, she jumped onto father's chest and started biting his head and BOOM, the fight I had already anticipated began. Who knew the fight would result in a feisty blood bath? Both thought it's just a simple fight which usually ends with mother fleeing away to grandma's place at last. Who knew that the earth was going to quench her never-quenchable thirst for blood because of just a silly fight?

It was not the first fight though; mother and father used to fight a lot without stopping but this one seemed like a 'big' fight. I could even smell it with my large conscience nostrils!

The two powerfully pushed and pulled each other. My mother was a Samson Lady-she had this mysterious power of at least two men.

Upon seeing that his wife is about to drag him down, father growled like a hungry lion and pushed mother so hard that she fell onto the dying fireplace. I stood on the other side of the hut watching the painful fight. I could not move. I guess that moment the devil had sent some multiplied demons into the two!

Fear had already gripped me with her sharp claws. My globular eyes were now reddening each passing moment. I could not let out a scream. I wanted to but I knew I would automatically get a slap, harder than the one mother had undeservingly received. The sun was going down; it was getting darker bit by bit. The screams that my mother posed made me feel impartial pain. I could see my mother trying to get up from the fireplace. She was struggling because her leg or hip was either anesthetized or numbed. Though it was getting darker, I could see father trotting towards a weak mother holding a blunt vegetable knife. At first I thought he was going to dice mother's buttocks which were already burnt up! Mysteriously, mother regained her strength and crawled towards me. I was on the far east-end of the hut. Mother wasn't screaming anymore; she was just groaning painfully. With her now hoarse voice, she grunted, "Go to Ambuya's house!" I was too frightened to obey her commands at the moment but as soon as I saw father moving towards mother, I had to rush out of the hut! Before I could get out, I fell! I checked on my back, father had tripped me with his long foot. He grabbed me by my foot. I was very weak and scared at the same moment.

I could not defend myself and neither mother could, she was in deep pain. Father brutally kicked my face and I became even more powerless. Mother could not do anything to save her daughter, she was just lying helplessly on the floor groaning like a dying scapegoat. I felt so numb and weak.

That day I was wearing an old white dress which my mother had made for me with such poor, cheap satin material. The dress was aged and tattered. Upon realization that I have been fatally sedated by these traumatic events, father started tearing up my old dress. In a flash of a second, I was already naked, with only torn white underwear with which my mother had worked for so long and hard at a certain popular farm in the next village. I could feel my father's rough, cracked right hand holding my thigh and the left four-fingered hand dragging my only single underwear down. I could not move!

Angels from above dwelt on my mother and strengthened her. She tried to move towards us. I did not see what happened next but I just heard the groaning of my weak mother intensifying, I guessed she had been kicked so hard. Father's kick was even more painful than that of a dying horse; I knew it myself.

Father's grip on my slim thigh was hurting me, I prayed and begged for him to loosen his hand a bit. My silent prayer was answered, father loosened his grip from my thigh and I thanked the heavens for such grace. In a moment, he started gently caressing me down between my trembling legs. I already knew what father was going to do now so my short-lived happiness quickly vanished away. My gazelle eyes were already a bit closed for I knew the myriad of pain that was coming; it was not the first time though. I could hazily see my father unpinning his blue shirt buttons with such a huge satanic grin on his unforgiving face. In a moment he was already an Adam, no clothes on!

I could feel my arms and legs cracking crumbling. Suddenly, I felt a warmer finger penetrating me. I could feel inextricable pain and I could not deduce whether it was a cooking stick or a warm finger because all my senses had disappeared. In addition, the fountain of tears that was cupped in my eyes was literally blocking my vision. Mugabe's 2008 presidential election campaign poster which was sticky-stuffed on the walls of our hut stood witness as father penetrated me in front of my mother for the third time.

I think my pain was better than my mother's! I think she felt the pain that pierced her heart: I can imagine the pain of seeing such an evil act happening to her daughter. I can imagine how similar it is to that of Nebuchadnezzar's wife watching her grazing husband.

I seem not to reckon when and how the cunning act was done or how I sustained my father's elephant weight on me; I had already blackened out!

With the will, zeal, passion and vigor to help her only daughter, mother forcibly got up and dragged my father from his back. Mother was harshly kicked again and two more strong punches were placed on her bleeding face painfully. She bled even more. Her back was already burnt. Her limbs were weak, if not broken. I could see from the looks on her face that she was crying bitterly inside but no matter the pain, she kept crawling again towards possessed father who was now pressing me even harder. This is the day I realized that mothers will fight for their kids regardless of the circumstances and situations they are in.

Father's groans of pleasure intensified and my heart smiled from artery to artery; not because of the painful pleasure, but because I knew when father intensified his groans, with his cruel eyes tightly shut, he would be about to get off me. Without a flinch, in no wink; he was off my feeble body.

With such an evil face, he grabbed the blunt vegetable knife he had brought from his hunting. He rapidly advanced towards mother. I was just lying helplessly on the other side of the hut watching and shocked at the horrific scenes the gods had placed before me. With his huge hand, father gripped mother's neck, and without hesitation, dipped the blunt vegetable knife into mother's throat. Mother didn't scream, farewell tears just streamed down her puffy cheeks as she fell onto the dying flames on the fireplace. Blood oozed and gushed out from her throat like Mutirikwi dam wall opened after 50 years.

The dying flames and glowing charcoal went out slowly as hot blood from my dying mother calmed them away. I was shocked to see her legs kicking so hard with such great power. I thought aimlessly: She should have used all that infinite power to run away. Her eyeballs had already popped out like those of an aged bull trying too hard to pull a sleigh on rocky ground. My mother's eyes looked like two black peas floating in milk but at that moment, though it was already dark, I could see them gaining redness bit by bit. Father just stood by, naked, both hands on the back of his bald head, jaws dropped to his chest, eyes frighteningly popped out! He was sweating profusely more than ever before. Heavy beads of sweat were now speedingly rolling down his bare chest and down to the hairy legs. His light skin was becoming red. I could smell too much fear in him. I do not know if it was real fear though. As I was busy looking at father, my nosy attention was dragged by a huge sigh coming from where mother was helplessly lying. The sigh was so heavy and scary that I got up. It was a sigh with a heavy groan accompanied by deep emotion. Untrue as it might sound, one could wonder whether it was a sigh or a farewell fart!

Who knew that father was a manned lion that rapaciously feasts on his defenseless cubs? I slowly crawled in the direction to where my mother was lying. I noticed she was no more. I just frantically screamed once and heavily fell on the floor. I automatically knew that without mother our hut was going to be officially a 'lion's den' where father would obviously feast on his cub every day. 'I was going to be father's daily bread', I thought as l stared at my mother's motionless body. I fainted or collapsed or passed out, whatever, but what I know is I could not feel anything and terrifying silence had already engulfed the hut.

Blackout!

By Tafadzwa Ncube