The air in the dusty, cramped salon hung thick with the smell of hairspray and unspoken words. You sat perched on a rickety chair, a magazine you weren't even looking at clutched in your hands, while your friend, Patience, droned on about the latest sermon from Pastor Emmanuel. 'He said,' she declared, her voice a shade too loud for the intimate space, 'that many divorced women are living in regrets. They didn't submit to their husbands, they didn't fight for their marriages. They let the devil in!'
You tried not to wince. Patience's words, though delivered with a fervent zeal, felt like a slap in the face. You knew the story all too well, the story of the women who had been labeled 'failures' for their broken marriages. You, too, had been a wife once, your marriage a whispered promise of forever, a dream that had crumbled into dust.
'I don't know if I agree with him, Patience,' you said, your voice barely a whisper.
'He's just speaking the truth, darling,' Patience countered, her brows furrowed in concern. 'You know the scripture says a wife should submit to her husband. That's the key to a happy marriage.'
You looked out the window, watching the chaotic bustle of Lusaka life unfold on the street below. The sun beat down mercilessly, casting long shadows on the dusty road. It was a scene you had witnessed countless times, the hustle and bustle of everyday life, the pursuit of happiness, the struggle for survival. You wondered if the people on the street below ever stopped to think about the weight of the words they spoke, the expectations they placed on others, the lives they judged.
'I know the scripture,' you said, your voice gaining a bit more strength. 'But what about the women who submit and still end up alone? What about the men who abuse their power? What about the marriages that are built on deceit and manipulation?'
Patience hesitated, her usual confident air faltering for a moment. 'Maybe they didn't submit enough,' she finally said, her voice soft. 'Maybe they didn't pray hard enough. Sometimes, it takes more than just submission.'
The silence that followed was heavy, laden with the unspoken truth that neither of you dared to voice. You knew that the reality of marriage was far more complex than a simple equation of submission and obedience. You knew that love, loyalty, respect, and communication were all vital ingredients, and that the absence of any one of them could lead to devastation.
A wave of anger washed over you, fuelled by the frustration of being trapped in a narrative that painted your past as a failure, a testament to your lack of submission. But you pushed the anger down, knowing that it would only lead to more pain, more regrets.
You glanced at the woman sitting in the chair next to you, her face masked with a mixture of grief and resignation. She had been married for over twenty years, a marriage that had withered and died slowly, like a plant starved of sunlight and water. You couldn't help but see a reflection of your own past in her weary eyes.
'Maybe,' you said slowly, your voice filled with a quiet sadness, 'maybe we should stop judging others and focus on protecting ourselves. Maybe instead of demanding submission, we should demand respect, empathy, and love. Maybe we should focus on building marriages that are based on equality, not on power imbalances.'
Patience remained silent, her gaze fixed on the magazine in her hands. You knew that your words had struck a chord, that the weight of the truth was too heavy to ignore. But the battle for change, for a shift in perspective, was a long one. And you knew that each of you, in your own way, would have to fight it.
The air in the salon remained heavy, filled with the silent echoes of a conversation that would stay with you long after your hair was styled and you had walked out into the bustling streets of Lusaka. You knew that the truth was bitter, but you also knew that it was the only way forward, the only way to break free from the chains of societal expectations and embrace a future where women were not defined by their marital status, but by their strength, their resilience, and their unwavering belief in their own worth.
