Prisoners of Lust

Five

After a brief moment of silence, Inna told Jummai that a woman is nothing without a man, no matter how terrible he is. "My ex-husband was a monster, but can you look at me now and say that I am better of?" asked Inna raising one eyebrow at Jummai. "At least I had a house. It was a horror house, but it was my horror house," she chuckled. "Anything is better than where we are now."

Inna told Jummai that leaving a man does not guarantee the next man would be better. She said a woman in a loveless marriage might as well wait for the husband to die so she inherits his wealth. "It is a good compensation for the bad times. Even if he only owns a goat, it is something," she explained. "Had I stayed married, I'm sure that monster would eventually develop a disease from all the poison he puts in his body," Inna continued, "Then I would inherit his small smelly hut."

With shock, Jummai asked how anyone could have such cruel thoughts. Inna shrugged and said, "Cruel conditions make the mind cruel." Then she asked if Jummai knew she would ever be doing what she was involved in had she not been put in the situation. A motorcycle whisked by too close and the ladies ended their conversation. As they walked in silence, Jummai thought of Hamisu. Their kind of love had to be genuine. She would never wish him harm.

Inna stopped by a pharmacy saying she needed to forget painful memories and Jummai strolled towards her own happy place. She arrived at the district secondary school she once attended. She walked past the dilapidated classrooms. It was dark and gloomy. Through the missing metal louvers, she could make out the peeling blackboards, the holes in the cement floors, and the scarce desks that accommodated over eighty pupils in a classroom. Jummai soon got to the playground and made her way to the swings under the mango tree.

Once their eyes met, bashfulness overcame her, then she lowered her gaze. Of all the men she knew, none could weaken her like his presence. Her heart picked a race with her feet, rushing to embrace his essence. He stood charming in his kaftan, holding a paper bag with two bars of chocolate. Jummai coyly looked at her toes, to check if they were dusty. She tried to cover her feet with the dress's flowing hem, and then she noticed it was creased. Using her palms, she spread the fabric, from belly down to her knees, only to see them crinkle back as they were. "Beautiful as always," he called out.

Jummai thought to herself that she knew he loved her because love nurtures and lust destroys. With other men, the pleasure was short lived and the regret choked her. With this man, just a conversation replenished her. She felt like embracing Hamisu and holding on to him for eternity, but she could not let him know that she was a shameless maiden. That sometimes... some sad times, she was a shameless maiden.

Jummai leaned against the tree, facing downwards, and she finally shed a tear for that night. Hamisu walked towards her, smiling, eager to gaze upon her face.  He called her by her nickname and asked of her health, and she answered, slightly stuttering that she was in good health. He handed the gift to her and she used both hands, out of respect, to take it from him.  Time felt suspended as the two lovers spoke of life and as they hoped for a future of new beginnings and happy endings.

With a stern look, Hamisu asked how much she had to pay to see him. Knowing she was going to lie, she looked away and said it cost little compared to the satisfaction of his company. He could not visit her because his mother forbade it. He assured her of his promise to help her out of her predicament. He said it was not her fault, and he blamed it on the corrupt judicial system, where innocence had a price. He promised he would prove to his family that she was a decent woman.

Jummai felt like telling him the truth, but she had been told that a man does not need to know every single detail of her life. She would have to tell him that she was allowed to visit him out of pity.  As Hamisu compared her worth to that of the fertile earth, bringing forth life, Jummai felt a pang of painful guilt. It was the kind of pain she felt when she was accused of stealing.  It was an unsettling persistent piercing that radiated throughout her chest, a constricting sensation that could choke her out of breath.