When Gods Cry

CHAPTER NINE

The Thuyena celebrations were nearing with barely a moon remaining till the festivities began. The streets were already becoming colourful with vendors and shops putting up ribbons that symbolized the king's family. The walls of almost every house were painted with different shades of soil. Drawings of the victorious Kasuhi were all over, as so were those of the defeated Amathu. People were already buying animals to slaughter for the festivities, flour and fruits vendors selling more than usual. Tailors too were busy with women buying beautiful garments to wear during the festivities. The market was busy and loud which annoyed Muma as he walked through the market with Kashili who was buying supplies.

'Is it that you won't or you can't?' Muma asked her as he desperately tried to convince her to help him.

'I won't,' she said to him. 'What you are asking of me isn't something am okay with.'

'But you are a prostitute, it's what you do.' Muma argued and she glared at him before walking away. Muma not knowing why she was getting angry at him followed her.

'Kashili,' he called after her but she wouldn't stop walking away. He hastened his steps and caught up with her. He wasn't used to dealing with an angry Kashili and could only blame it on her monthly female bleeds. Muma even though smart was a fool when it came to matters of women, especially Kasuhi women. Most of what he knew about women was from those who had surrounded him when he grew up. Amathu women were simple as they spent most of their lives working in the fields and the only thing they wanted was to sleep and eat. Even their choice of husbands wasn't complex as just as Amathu women were simple, the men were much more simpler. Since the Amathu lived in a communal way, no man was richer and with most of married life being spent in the farm, any man who could perform the ritual of love and was kind enough was a good choice for a spouse.

Kasuhi women however demanded more and their emotions and opinions mattered, something Muma was coming to despise. He was one of the few people who lived in both sides and as a man, he preferred when women were simple, quiet and obedient even though it wasn't right.

'Kashili,' Muma called her again, this time holding her hand which made her stop walking.

'I hate that word,' Kashili said to him angrily. She then moved to a small alley as the streets were full with people who would be interfering with their conversation that she was sure would end up in an argument.

'What word? Kashili? But isn't it your name?' A clueless Muma asked.

'Prostitute.' She said the word with the shame that came with it. Muma not knowing what to say said nothing as he looked at Kashili. She was still beautiful even with no jewellery and make-up that she wore every night. He wondered why she felt shame about something she was, something she was good at.

'I don't know what to say,' Muma honestly said and she sighed, her face showing the shame she felt because of her being a prostitute.

'Lately, I have been hating every moment I spend in the cold night with men who use me and don't care about me and leave when they are done with me. I feel worse with every man emptying his seed in me. Now you are asking me to do it for you.' Kashili told Muma and when she finally spoke those words out loud for the first time, she knew that she hated being a prostitute.

'I'm sorry, it was wrong for me to ask you to do something you hate,' Muma apologized as he held her free hand in a comforting way. He hated how he genuinely felt sorry and bad for Kashili as that meant he was slowly caring about her. From his past experiences, caring for someone meant heartbreak and pain and he was at a point he couldn't withstand any more pain.

'You didn't know that I hated it, it wasn't your fault,' she told him with a sad smile as she pressed her hand against his before looking at him. 'Muma, I hate the idea that you see me as a prostitute and I want you to see me as more than that.' She paused as she closed her eyes and let her bag fall freeing her other hand which she used to hold Muma's other hand. Muma just stood there in surprise not knowing what to do or what was happening.