Prisoners of Lust

One

The guilt descended on her as she rose from the filth she frolicked in.  The dimly lighted room partly covered her shame.  She searched frantically for her garments among his sweat drenched clothes and cigarette ashes.  Quickly, she went behind a plastic curtain located at the back of the room.  Trying to make minimal noise performing her cleansing ritual, she splashed the cold water softly from a metal pail.

She felt the weight of shame crush her chest as she breathed deeply to exhale the bitterness.  She rubbed her skin over and over again as if she could wash away the tainted touch that terrorized her conscience.  She asked for forgiveness over and over again.  However, this time she searched for tears of remorse and found none.  She feared her beating heart was as shallow as a drum.

Drying herself with her veil, she flung her black outer garment over her head and it slipped right on, covering her tainted body.  Her heart was beating rapidly, it felt like ten women pounding her chest open in a mortar.  With soft panting while trying to visualize the objects sprawled across the tiny room, she used her fingers to locate her camisole and underwear.  She quickly tucked them into her small bag with the money Tanko gave her earlier.  Her bag felt lighter than usual, which made her realize her phone was somewhere in the smelly damp room.  She did not want to wake him.  Jummai knew he would force her to stay longer.

Silently, she lifted up the lamp towards the heap of clothes beside the worn out mattress, where she blanked out wishing she could turn back the hands of time.  She felt around a few cigarette packs and avoided looking at the slim potbellied undertaker.  Then her phone rang.  She froze wide-eyed at Tanko's direction.  He snorted, complaining about not having electrical power for three days and then he sat up.

Tanko held out his heavy callous hands for her to hold, but she shook her head.  He asked her why she was leaving so early.  With pleading eyes she told him she had to make it back on time.  Tanko slyly told her that his wife was away and he needed extra attention.  Jummai laughed softly and told him she could not give him that kind of love.  She told him that he had a wife for a reason, which is to cater to his emotional needs.  He sat up sarcastically laughing.  With a sigh, he said love and lust were indistinguishable.

Jummai winced at the thought of love and lust being the same.  She knew there was a difference because she felt different when indulged in lust and when engulfed by love.  Reclining, pulling the sheets over his belly, Tanko added that his wife was at her parent's home and she will be there until the baby is forty days old.  Glancing over a few phones she suspected were stolen, she spotted hers and swiftly picked it up.  Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the name across the screen.

Jummai smiled and told Tanko that his wife must not love him to stay away for so long.  If she were fortunate enough to be blessed with a family, she would always be with them.
Tanko scoffed at her remarks and told her it was necessary because his wife needed help with the baby.  Jummai asked him why he could not help his wife with his own child.  He ignored her.  She wondered how someone who worked burying the dead could live such a reckless life and not fear for his afterlife.  Tanko started snoring.

Placing the lamp on a safe surface, she snuck out, then glanced back at the dark silhouette of heaped disgrace.  The bleak flame of the kerosene lamp gave her a last glimpse of a scene she hoped to forget.  She scurried through the tiny courtyard laced with clothing lines tied from one rod pillar to the other.  She exited the compound through a narrow hall, typical of front yard passages, on to the streets.  Pulling her veil over her face, she made her way through the bustle of the late night hustle.