LIMP

The drums beating outside brought him back to the present. Even though the night is chilly, sweats still found  exits to  his forehead, armpits and the top of his upper lip. His heart was beating faster than the hearty  playing drums and the excited voices of people awaiting the announcement and the sighting of a blood-stained cloth.

Her ebony lush body lay sprawled on the bed like a lamb s awaiting the sacrifice. He stood at the far end of the bamboo bed contemplating a clean way out of the present mess. She expected his hand to have  traced the mould of her hungry breasts waiting to be conquered and humbled. When she eventually found her voice, it was choked with desire and longing.

'My love, they are waiting for us'. Her eyes turned  toward the noises gaining entrance into every opening into the hut. When she did not get any response, she pulled him to the bed. He struggled to break free from her. It became a frantic struggle. Her hands on his robe and the ofi beneath it and his hands working very hard to fend it

off. He made to push her back but it was a miscalculated move. He lost his balance which gave her ample opportunity to undo his trouser from under him and found the treasure she sought limp and cold. It is anxiety, she told herself. The excitement of the moment could be responsible for it.  Unperturbed, she held him and did frantic resuscitations. Shaking, stroking and even rubbing him around her sticky, sweaty groin. She is now sweating with fear trembling her entire body. Her erstwhile excitement gave way to a sudden heaviness that made her mouth retrace the beginning of a bitter cry minted with anger.

Her cry found its way outside but it enacted a gurgle of laughter from those waiting with anticipation. 

'He is doing it already', someone cried with excitement.

'Show no mercy', cried a female voice. It was soon followed by other voices recounting the story of their clumsiness on the night of their wedding and the eventual thriumph. The females replayed their fears when at first the piece of blood on the woolly fabric didn't show up until much later. Others expressed the fatigue that weighed heavy on their body after the whole show. Yet others indirectly said of some husband's of some friends they knew who could only go only one round and then collapse like a heap of tired wall.

The drums have fallen silent now waiting to resume when the groom comes out showing off the blood stained fabric, an epitome of chastity and purity. The darkness is deepening too and those with lamps lighted them and it became a tiny dot of halo in the vast blanket of the sky above. They are becoming impatient  waiting for the news that seems to be taking long to materialize.

Just then, the door burst open. The lamps rose and marched towards the door. They saw a angry, naked, sweaty Fabiyi holding the clean, rumpled fabric but without any blood stain on it.

A hushed silence swept across the people with then it was replaced with a look of disdain contouring their faces, giving their shadows  grotesque images on anything it fell on.

'Ah! My  Aduke, a broken pot', an older woman said with a loud wail assailing her shaky voice. She sat on the floor trashing her hair, wailing loudly. Others too expressed their shock. The drums resume eventually. Intense. Loud. The initial energy with which they beat it tripled. It was a combination of  angry strokes of invectives that went beyond Aduke to her family and even to her forbears! It was an angry reprimand for bad home training. No one will even dare to challenge Fabiyi's claims nor give a listening hear to what Aduke has to say. It is the word of a man against that of  a woman. It is as if one is favouring the word of a slave above his master's which can never happen. Indeed, a man has already spoken!

Thank  you for reading this far. I hope you enjoyed it? Let's catch up later. Until then, be safe and don't fail to give it another try. I am Yours Truly,

Julius Topohozin.