Bride Prize

Three: A drinker and womanizer

A small group of young men are seated on tree trunks in a semi-circle under an open sided hut with a thatched roof, sipping the local beer from small calabashes. One of them is Venda.

The young men in their twenties suddenly roared with laughter.

Venda had just been narrating his ordeal the other night.

“What?” a dark complexioned youth with rough features asked, “you mean the husband caught you red handed inside his house and you are still sitting here in one piece?” he sounded incredulous.

“Wait a minute,” Venda protested, “I didn’t say that I was caught red handed. The foolish man does not have proof that I was there. In fact he does not even know that

I was there at all.” 

“How is that?” another young man asked.

 “Tell us, please!” a fourth youth said. This one went by the name Big Joe because he was big even for his age, and had traveled far and done stints in the nearby town as security guard in a construction company until the company had folded up and laid off its staff.

All eyes were focused on Venda.

“Alright, I know what to do,” Big Joe said and, raising his voice, called out, “Adoo! Bring us a bucket full!”  Adoo brought the small bucket full of local beer and placed on the floor in front of Big Joe.

“Who is paying?” she inquired, pausing to stare hard at Big Joe.

“Hear me this woman, for God’s sake?” one of the youths said, “Someone has ordered for beer and you are asking.”

Big Joe looked hurt.

“Woman, have I ever ordered for a drink here and never paid?” he asked, staring up at Adoo. “If you don’t want to sell us beer you can take it back.”

Adoo was adamant. “What is wrong with asking?” 

“You’ve got your answer so leave us alone,” the first youth said and reaching forward, scooped a calabash full and filled his own calabash.

Adoo hesitated, wanted to say something, checked herself and walked back into her small hut.

Venda, head bowed, watched her walk away with the corner of his eye. They had both been avoiding each other’s eye since the night after the incident.

“Venda, drink beer and tell me how you came out of such a jam unhurt,” Big Joe said.

Venda took a swig of alcohol and belched.

“Well, like I was saying,” he continued with his escapade, “the man is knocking on the door and this woman asks me to get into her new beer pot which she kept in the room.”

“What?” Big Joe exclaimed. “So you became a chicken in a beer pot?”

This elicited wild laughter from the rest of the youths.               “So how did you get out?” a youth asked eagerly.

“Wait now, let me finish,” Venda said. “The man comes in, and before you know it there comes another man knocking on the same door, can you believe it!”  They all gasped. 

Venda, face turning hard, went on, “This woman is just a bloody harlot,” he said meaningfully. “How could she invite me to her house and then invite another bastard at the same time? Did she mean to get me killed or what?”  “Wait,” Big Joe said, “how do you know for certain that she also invited the other man? He could have just on his own come hunting. I hear the woman is so loose she throws it around like anyhow.”