The Bride Price: An African Romance (Chitundu Chronicles)

The Bride Price

The Bride Price

Suzanne Popp

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The Bride Price

Copyright © 2012 Suzanne Popp

All rights reserved.

Cover Art by Julie Kim

ISBN:  0-61570-950-8

ISBN-13:
978-0615709505

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The Bride Price

This book is dedicated to women who persevere in obedience to their calling, and sustain the dreams of those around them.

A portion of proceeds from this book go to support VillageSteps in the education of children in Africa.

The Bride Price

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My friends and the supporters of VillageSteps, who encouraged me to put my stories into a book, the publishers and editors of PNWA conference and PAWA members, who affirmed my vision for this novel, my church, Calvary Presbyterian Church in Enumclaw, whose members helped to build schools in Zambia, and saw the dedication of Africans to care for children in difficult circumstances, and all the beautiful and courageous women I have come to know in my years of living and traveling. Most importantly I would like to thank my loving family; especially my husband, Ken, who inspires me daily.

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The Bride Price

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The Bride Price

CHAPTER 1
CHRISTMAS BREAK

Myrna awoke in her mother’s bed with a blanket wrapped around her. The bright African sun filtered through the trees and the birds had stopped singing. She was sweating and her school jumper was bunched around her waist. Myrna smelled an unknown odor and couldn’t wait to wash herself. As her feet touched the polished floor, she realized her school stockings were still on. Myrna walked towards the bathing house. She was sore and stiff in her upper legs.  She rubbed her thighs with her hands and smelled an unfamiliar cologne waft up as the cold water poured over her body. What had happened the night before? Her head throbbed and her vision blurred. Her mouth tasted metallic, and was so dry, her tongue stuck against the inside of her cheeks. There was no one to ask about what had occurred — her brother and his fiancée had left, her mother and father were at the coast, and her sister Violet was visiting relatives.  Only her Uncle Dodge and his guest Festal were in the house, and Myrna was too embarrassed to ask them what had happened and why she was sleeping in her parents’ bed. When she was clean, she gathered her clothes and went to the small room she shared with her sister. She sat on the mat to put on her tee shirt and
chitenge.
She began crying and could not stop.

Back at the Royal Academy, the long Christmas break was over and the classroom was abuzz with chatter as the boys talked over their adventures during the break. Some bragged about their sexual exploits with gestures and rude guffaws trying to outdo each other with their tales.  Others were groaning about being back in school after their vacations.  For Myrna, it was a relief to be back in the classroom, even though she was the only girl in this prestigious all boys secondary school. She listened to their teasing and bragging and knew that something had changed in her life. The joking and jostling of the boys now seemed childish. Myrna’s body felt different – the vacation had lasted over a month, and her period was almost three weeks overdue. Every morning when she ate her sorghum gruel or smelled cologne, she was nauseous.  She leaned over her notebook and began reflecting on her Christmas break.

Christmas vacation over the last six weeks at the Chitundu house had been a confusing time. Myrna’s mother, Beatrice, was due to give birth to her eighth child. Her father, Bishop, was caught up in the poor economy with no one buying the bricks he made at their brickyard on the edge of Blancville.  Uncle Dodge seemed determined to make Myrna’s month long school vacation a continuous party – Dodge was known as a notorious matchmaker.  Myrna had no idea she was his current transaction.

Dodge began by picking Myrna up from the Royal Academy boarding school in a taxi. He helped her into the backseat and gave her an apple from South Africa, her first taste of this exotic fruit. He also handed her a tan cashmere scarf which Myrna immediately wrapped around her head of soft curls to keep the red, laterite dust off of them.  ‘Paper Roses’ played on the radio. Myrna tried to make out the words but the lyrics were a little fast for her to translate. She recalled one refrain played over and over,
Oh, how real those roses seemed to me. But they’re only paper roses, like your imitation love for me. A
t thirteen Myrna had never dated a boy, but she could feel the possibility of love and pain, and an end to dreams in the emotion of the singer.

Her brother Stephen and his fiancée Esther were at her parents’ house when Myrna and Uncle Dodge arrived, along with Festal, a man in his early forties. Uncle Dodge was entertaining the group with stories and drinks, treating Myrna like a privileged adult rather than a young teenager. Dodge brought her gifts to share with her friends and family – a bar of lavender soap, a special diary with violets on the cover, and a tiny key to give to Violet. Her parents prepared a special dinner of chicken and yams. They praised Myrna for how dependable she was and how the family had always relied on her as the strong one, while her mother Beatrice kept slipping the best pieces of meat and fried yams to Festal.

Festal said nothing throughout the meal, silently looking down at his plate for most of it, pulling the meat apart with his fingers, while occasionally glancing at Myrna. Uncle Dodge slipped Myrna a bar of chocolate as she left the dining table to clean the dishes. He hinted she had an admirer. Without questioning her uncle, Myrna accepted the chocolate, happy for her family to have the food and drinks Dodge provided.

Myrna studied Dodge’s face. Surely he didn’t think she would be interested in Festal, the older man. Festal must be a relative or a business associate, she decided. If only she could talk to Violet about what was going on. She signaled her sister to meet her in the kitchen. As Violet pulled back the curtain to enter the room, Dodge intercepted:

“Your cousins have invited you to come and visit them. They want you to stay for a week. I have your bus ticket for you to leave tomorrow.  Your mother and father will be going on a little vacation to the coast to enjoy the beach before the baby comes. You had better get packing before it gets dark.  Don’t worry about the dishes.  I will help Myrna.”

By the time Myrna finished in the kitchen, and returned to the sleeping room, Violet was already asleep, her diary open beside her, and her basket packed for the holiday. As she lay on her mat the following night, Myrna began reflecting on the treats and copious amounts of sorghum beer she had received from Uncle Dodge after her parents left for the coast.  Since she had never tasted alcohol before and had never known the effects of it, she wasn’t sure how she got into bed.

It had been a year of drought, with business slow and food scarce. Business must have been good for Uncle Dodge though, because his generosity was impressive.  His friend Festal had been markedly quiet, lacking the easy banter that continuously poured from Uncle Dodge. Myrna paid no attention to Festal’s hovering around her father’s compound and his looking at her, plying her with small gifts and treats. She did not connect it with herself. It was unusual to be noticed by her brother Stephen as well. He introduced her to Esther and mentioned what a help Myrna was to him. Stephen usually just wanted Myrna to iron a shirt for him, or make him something to eat or drink. Now he held her up as the valued sister. Esther had even asked Myrna for her opinion about bridesmaid dresses and which flowers suited her.
Stephen must want something
.

Myrna was flattered by the gifts and little outings. She found it a little heady to be the focus of so much attention. Violet and Myrna didn’t like or trust Uncle Dodge, but there was a side of him that could be fun. He knew a lot of people and had a way of skirting around parents.

Myrna avoided thinking about the gaps in her memory when she couldn’t recall what had gone on in the house during her parents’ absence. She missed having her sister to bounce ideas off of until the two of them could figure them out. It was the first time she had slept alone in her own home.

There was one night when Uncle Dodge came into the kitchen when she was washing up the dishes, dressed in her school uniform – a royal blue jumper and white blouse with a Peter Pan collar.  She had wrapped a cloth around herself to protect the wool fabric. Myrna felt secure in her uniform as it reminded her of her place, a girl who was attending secondary school and going places. She had worn the jumper each day of the vacation, to make a statement of where she belonged.

Dodge made a special cup of tea for her with lots of sugar. As she stood washing the dishes and rinsing the mugs and plates, Dodge spoke in a soft voice to Myrna. She felt her head reeling as she finished the doctored tea, and a creepy feeling come over her, as though she was losing control of her body and didn’t know where the conversation was leading

“Myrna, the whole family is so proud of you, how you put your family first, and what a hard worker you are. You are so fortunate to be able to help your family during these tough times. Stephen and Esther are counting on your support. I know you are not going to disappoint your family. Don’t worry about drying the dishes, I will finish the job.”

As Myrna put down the mug her uncle brought had given her, she noticed some sediment in the bottom.  She just wanted to be in her bed and away from Uncle Dodge. “
Finish the job
.” Those were the last words she remembered of that evening.

Now, back in the classroom at the Royal Academy, there was order and predictability. Myrna had time to catch up on her reading and prepare for the new classes being offered this semester. She decided on biology and critical thinking, and English and African literature. She wanted to find out why her body was changing and why she was nauseous. Everything about her body felt different; her breasts were tender and her period was late. But at least she was comfortable being back in her own bed and private dorm room, instead of sleeping on the reed mat she and Violet shared at home.

Myrna looked up and saw Wellington Taylor looking at her. He was her tutor in English language arts and had promised her a gift when she returned from vacation.  He smiled as he handed her a large book.  She felt her face heat up as she accepted it— a new biology book.

“You didn’t think I would forget my promise to my star pupil, did you?” As Wellington went to his desk and began preparing his class notes, Myrna turned to the chapter on reproduction.  She looked around to make sure no one was watching, then began leafing through the pages. There it was— illustrations of male and female reproductive organs, so pink and small, and then the description of pregnancy.  She felt nauseous as she read the words.
Cessation of the monthly flow
.
Enlargement of the breasts
.  Her eyes glazed over with tears.  She had missed her period.  She was never late.  A thousand questions welled up in her head like the flow of the Zambezi when it was in flood stage. Nothing could hold it back.  What had happened? When did it happen? Then she slowed her thoughts down and went over everything.

It was a blur, the actual act.  There was the cup of tea; she now recalled some pushing and prodding.  The image of dried blood on her new tan scarf suddenly came to mind. She had wondered how it got there. Did she cut herself? All she remembered was soaking the scarf in water in the morning so it would not stain. Surely, this man/woman marriage act could not be what had happened. But her mind reeled.   She shut the book quickly. Her life was over. The school would never allow a pregnant student to continue.

Myrna was the first girl admitted to the Royal academy, and now, because of what she had done, she would be the last.  She didn’t know how soon they would find out.  She could never explain this because she didn’t really know how it happened. Nor could she tell anyone her secret.  Wellington Taylor was the first European she had ever met and he had been so proud of her rapid progress. He always called her his jewel, telling her she was not like the other students who could not control their animal instincts. He disliked their coarse jokes and their innuendoes about their sexual prowess.  What would he say if he found out his star pupil had betrayed his faith in her?  Just then, Wellington Taylor turned around and looked at her.