A Gift from Darkness Read online

  I quickly put the mirror away again. What on earth was I thinking? I was making a fool of myself. I hastily went back to work and thanked God that no one had been watching me.

  After I had done all my work I didn’t really know what to do. To distract myself I went over to my parents’ house. My mother was sitting in the shade of a hut, podding beans. I quickly went to give her a hand and kept myself busy like that for a while. But I was getting more and more restless. I caught my thoughts wandering and my eye drifting to the gate.

  “Are you waiting for someone?” my mother asked.

  “Me? No. Why would I be?”

  “You seem so strangely distracted, child.”

  “No, not at all. It must be the heat.”

  “Who was that yesterday?”

  I gave a start. So my mother, with her keen sense of hearing, had noticed the visit of the men from Gwoza after all. “Just some travelers who wanted a sip of water,” I answered truthfully.

  “And they didn’t want anything else?”

  “No.”

  I left before she could ask me any further questions. My mood darkened once I was back in my uncle’s house. It was already afternoon, and the man hadn’t turned up. Hour after hour I hoped that he would appear outside the gate as suddenly as he had done the day before. But he didn’t.

  Eventually I told myself my feelings were ridiculous. Suddenly I was convinced that he wasn’t coming anyway and that I had fallen for the compliments of a ladies” man. He had a silver tongue, but he wasn’t the savior I had hoped for. He wouldn’t free me from my dreary existence as a maid of all work. I had put far too much trust in my encounter with him.

  Disappointed, but also furious with myself, I set off to fetch fresh water in the late afternoon. As I was behind schedule, I didn’t linger long with the other girls, but hurried back home with the full bucket on my head.

  When I turned from the main road into the path that led to our huts, I suddenly saw him: the man from yesterday. He was leaning against the thorn fence of a neighboring farm. He was clearly waiting for me.

  My heart nearly stopped.

  “I don’t suppose I could have a sip of water?” he asked roguishly—with an undertone that suggested we were old accomplices. Why was he so sure of himself? Had I inadvertently given him some sort of sign yesterday? Or did he know that I was a widow? Did that make me easy prey in his eyes?

  “I’ve just come from the well,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything better.

  “Yes, I know. I’ve been watching you. All day.”

  “Really?” I blushed.

  “I’ll walk you part of the way, OK?”

  “No, I’d rather you didn’t,” I whispered. I looked frantically around to make sure that no one was watching us. “What would people say?”

  “Ah, people. I couldn’t care less.”

  “But I could!” I had to think about my family. My father’s words came into my head: Let us pray that she doesn’t bring shame upon us. Was I doing that by talking secretly to Ishaku?

  “The only important thing is that you and I understand one another.”

  “But we don’t even know each other!”

  “Then it’s high time that we got to know each other. Don’t you think?”

  I was seething inside. On the one hand I was furious about his behavior, on the other I was flattered by it. His wooing words made my heart thump in a way that I had missed so painfully for so long. “You’re impossible,” I scolded him.

  “I can’t help it. You’re just too beautiful,” he insisted.

  “Will you be quiet? All the neighbors can hear you! Please go home right now!”

  “I’m going. But only if I can see you again tomorrow evening.”

  My heart leapt. “Fine,” I heard myself saying.

  “Then until tomorrow evening, at sunset,” he said and touched my arm very gently. I felt as if I had been struck by lightning.

  Ishaku surprised me several times on the way to the well. He was very nice to me and showered me with compliments. Again and again he said how much he liked seeing my features in the evening light. Sometimes he also brought sweets. I felt very flattered—by his words, and also by the fact that he undertook that difficult journey over the mountain just to see me. I felt pretty in his presence, and very much alive. Over time I became addicted to our moments together, which made me blossom inwardly.

  At first the meetings were harmless. But over time Ishaku became more and more insistent and asked me to go with him a little way into the mountains. When no one was looking he touched me in places that he shouldn’t really have done. And I found it increasingly difficult to resist his advances. Because my pious principles vanished into air as soon as I was near him. I felt completely infatuated.

  I was also aware that I was doing the very thing that my parents had wanted to prevent. But I didn’t care. I had a right to live like anyone else, I said to myself defiantly.

  When I lay awake at night however, I did start feeling doubts, and I was worried. Did Ishaku know that I was a widow? Was that why he dared to be so forward with me? I was confused about this man—after all, I didn’t know much more about him than his name. Because of his age he couldn’t be unmarried. What was his life like back in Gwoza? Who were his family?

  I didn’t dare to ask any of these questions, because I was scared of destroying our happiness. And I didn’t want to do that under any circumstances. His presence was too precious to me.

  Of course our meetings, which usually took place in public, did not go unnoticed. Neighbors’ tongues wagged, and the inevitable happened: eventually my family found out.

  I noticed by the way that my uncle’s and aunt’s faces were darkening from day to day. In the end my father called me to his farm and held me to account. “Who’s this man who’s chasing you?”

  “Which man?”

  He slapped my face. “Do you take me for an idiot?” he yelled.

  I started crying.

  “You know very well who I mean.”

  “I don’t even know him. I’ve just talked to him a few times.”

  “Talked,” my father repeated sarcastically. “You’re making yourself and your whole family a laughingstock, girl. We’re a respectable family. There are no whores around here, do you get that?”

  Whores! I couldn’t believe he had said that word to me. So that was how my own father saw me!

  He was absolutely furious. He presented me with a choice: “Either you cut off all contact with this skirt-chaser or you leave your uncle’s house right now. And I don’t want to see you around here ever again.”

  “Please forgive me, Father. I’ll never meet him again,” I said.

  After that lecture I felt absolutely terrible. There’s nothing worse than losing the respect of your own family. How had I been so thoughtless as to put it at risk? But what hurt me most was the fact that it didn’t occur to my father that my relationship with Ishaku might have a future. He couldn’t begin to believe that a man would marry a “used model” like myself. That was doubtless how Ishaku saw it as well. I had been incredibly stupid to allow myself to engage in hanky-panky with him, I thought at that moment. Everyone had warned me.

  To make quite sure that I didn’t do anything stupid again, over the next few days my family wouldn’t let me outside the door. I was excused from my daily duty of fetching water until further notice. Instead my aunt sent her daughter-in-law.

  Savan, who preferred to sleep in the morning, was in a bad mood about this, and became rather off-hand with me. “A housemaid who has to be protected against herself isn’t much help,” she said poisonously. “I hope this isn’t a permanent state of affairs…”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “And I don’t much enjoy being your prisoner either.”

  “Then leave,” she sneered. “Find happiness with this man of yours.”

  I thought it was unbelievably nasty of her to rub salt in my wounds. Because, of course, secretly there was
nothing I would have liked more.

  After some time, about a week of self-recrimination, something unexpected happened. Suddenly we had visitors: Ishaku and a second man, who I later learned was his brother, stood by the gate of my parents” kral in their Sunday best.

  No one had expected that. My whole family was thrown into confusion when the two men asked very formally to speak to my father. I watched the whole thing through a gap in the thorn fence that divided the two farms. I thought I was dreaming. Was Ishaku really serious about me? I hadn’t even dreamed to imagine as much. But now I was on cloud nine.

  When my father led Ishaku across the yard I could tell from his face that he was extremely contented with this development. No wonder, because if Ishaku had actually come to ask for my hand, he had hopes that I might bring in a second bride price. He hadn’t expected that.

  The men sat down on the tree trunk in front of my father’s hut. My uncle and my older brother Yakob joined them. I myself stayed in my hiding place and tried to catch at least a few individual words of their conversation. I was furious that I couldn’t be there myself and had no say in the matter, while they horse-traded over my future. By now Ishaku was bound to have found out that I was a widow. Would it put him off? Or would he be pleased that it gave him the opportunity to lower the price? For some reason I had a feeling that he had known for ages anyway. He had probably made inquiries about me before his visit.

  The men talked and talked. From my position behind the fence I could hardly hear a word. I was just struck that my father sounded quite confident. That surprised me. Hadn’t he been the one who was always telling me that no man would marry me anyway? Now he seemed to be pretty sure of his case. I hoped devoutly that he wouldn’t get carried away and make excessive demands, and send Ishaku running for the hills. After all, my father was aware that this was my only chance. He couldn’t afford to be too greedy.

  “And how did the discussion go?” I demanded to know when the men had left.

  “You’re very lucky, girl.”

  “Did you reach an agreement?”

  “He’s still thinking.”

  “What did you ask him for?”

  “That’s men’s business, nothing to do with you.”

  I later learned from my brother Yakob that my father had demanded a cow and a goat, the normal price. Even I knew that that was excessive for a widow. “Why so much?” I asked furiously. Was he trying to ruin my future?

  I asked Yakob to call my father to his senses and bring the price down. But he wouldn’t hear of it. “Don’t worry,” he reassured me. “It will all be fine. Father knows what he’s doing.”

  As I’ve said, I didn’t really understand why my family was so confident. But to my surprise the parties actually reached an agreement. One morning Ishaku’s brother brought the animals. That put the seal on the engagement. My family congratulated me. “Now everything will be fine,” my mother said.

  I was delighted.

  At the same time I learned that there would be no wedding feast for me this time. I assumed that this was some kind of economy measure on my father’s part. But he assured me that it wasn’t customary to have one when a girl was getting married for the second time. “But there will be a church ceremony?” I asked.

  “No. No ceremony.”

  I was very surprised, but I was so happy anyway that I accepted the fact. With or without a ceremony: the main thing was that I was standing on solid ground again. My future was assured.

  After that everything went very quickly. My mother and my aunts had already had a range of new dresses made for me: a long skirt, a long-sleeved top and a scarf for my head. It was all made of a purple and green floral fabric. The ensemble wasn’t anything like the white ruched wedding dress that I’d worn to my first wedding. Even so I thought it was very pretty.

  They washed me, dressed me and called a girl from the village to do my hair. It was very matted, as I had hidden it under my headscarf for the last few months, and hardly combed it. After washing and brushing it she braided it into little plaits that snaked their way across my scalp from my face to the back of my head. I was delighted when she showed me the result in her hand-mirror. I hadn’t had such an elegant hairdo for ages.

  When everyone thought I looked reasonably presentable, my father called for the ancient Kia that a neighbor of ours used as a taxi. The owner’s son was at the wheel. He drove us to my new home; my father, my mother and my uncle came with me as representatives of the family.

  I was incredibly excited when we turned into the road for Gwoza. I could hardly believe it: was that really me, sitting dressed like a bride on the backseat of the car?

  My mother took my hand. “I don’t need to tell you anything about marital duties…” she began.

  “No, Mother,” I cut in, ashamed. We had got that part of things out of the way the first time I got married. I was incredibly embarrassed that she should have brought the subject up again. Did my mother think that just because I had no children she needed to explain the facts of life to me?

  “If you have your period, you won’t conceive a child,” she actually said. “Two weeks later is the best time.”

  “But I know all that!”

  “Fine,” she said, and left me in peace for a moment. But she hadn’t finished her lecture. “What you should bear in mind: be patient and show humility to the ones who were there before you. Do not engage in arguments. As soon as you have children yourself you will improve your position.”

  I sat up. Who did she mean? My mother-in-law? “I will treat all his relatives with respect,” I promised.

  “You must do that, my child. You won’t have him to yourself.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Ishaku has married before.”

  I was thunderstruck. “Is that true?”

  “Yes, just like you. But that’s unimportant. A hardworking man can feed two families.”

  All of a sudden it was clear to me: the high bride price that my father had been able to ask for in spite of my widowhood; my family’s agreement not to have a church wedding. If you assumed that the marriage was polygamous, suddenly everything made sense. The church fundamentally refused to give such relationships its blessing.

  “The pastors have no idea about these things,” my mother said, “believe me. Once you’ve got used to it you’ll be glad that you can divide up the housework between yourselves.”

  My mother carried on giving me advice. But I felt completely powerless and discouraged. It was as if someone had pulled a plug and let all the energy out of my body. I railed against my fate: did the Lord God have it in for me? He was putting me to the test yet again. “Do they have children?” I asked weakly.

  “Ishaku and his wife? Yes, of course.” She pressed my hand. “But don’t let that concern you. You’ll give him more. And you’ll get on well with the ones he already has.”

  Then we arrived in Gwoza. The town was considerably bigger and more urban than Ngoshe. Many of the houses in the center were rectangular and built of stone. There were several churches and mosques and even an old hospital built by the missionaries. But on the edges the people lived in round huts, exactly like we did. Many of them kept a few goats that were tied up in front of their houses.

  Ishaku’s kral was right at the foot of the Mandara Mountains. He was waiting for us at the gate. “Welcome!” he called out happily to us.

  My husband opened the car door for me and offered me his hand to help me out. If I hadn’t just discovered what I had discovered, I might have been delighted and thought of him as a very obliging, respectable man. But now I didn’t know what to think of any of that. I saw his three children playing in the yard. Their mother was sitting slightly apart, watching with apparent indifference.

  “Good journey?” he asked.

  “Yes, thanks,” I struggled to say.

  “Pull yourself together, Patience,” my mother hissed under her breath.

  But I couldn’t help it. “Is
that your wife?” I asked, pointing to the other woman.

  “She is my ex-wife, the mother of my children.”

  He seemed to notice my insecurity and looked deep into my eyes. “You are now my wife, my dearest,” he said.

  Getting things wrong

  I didn’t believe a word Ishaku said. However many times he tried to reassure me on our wedding night in April 2014 that I was his princess and the only woman he loved, it didn’t alter the fact that there were three of us in our marriage.

  “You should have told me you were already married,” I scolded.

  “I thought you knew!”

  “Not at all! How should I have known?”

  We were lying together on my straw mat in the round hut where I was going to live from now on. The hut where Ishaku’s wife and the children slept was luckily about ten yards away. I still wondered, of course, whether she was listening in on our nighttime conversation. Like all the men, Ishaku had a roof of his own over his head. But he could visit me whenever he wanted. Or he could visit Lara, his first wife. It was entirely up to him.

  “It changes nothing about my feelings for you,” he reassured me.

  “I believe you, but…” But maybe my feelings? And his first wife’s?

  “You’ll get on just fine.”

  But I wasn’t so sure. For my part, at any rate, I could understand Lara not being very keen to share her husband with me. She would probably go around telling all and sundry that I had seduced him. But that didn’t seem to worry Ishaku at all.

  “You’re really ungrateful,” he said, disappointed. “I thought you’d be glad you were becoming my wife.”

  “I am,” I assured him. And it was true. In spite of the unexpected circumstances of my marriage, in my emotional chaos at that moment what I felt more than anything was relief. I had left behind the crisis that the death of my first husband had hurled me into. My new position as second wife was better than my previous one as a widow. Even if it meant another woman had to suffer.

  “Then I don’t want to hear any more. You’ll get used to each other,” my husband concluded.