Kraals and Magic

Chapter ten

A good wife

Woka fitted two staves together again nu and started tying it with a dried vine deftly. "You should go inside," He said with a raspy voice. "You know I will do it."  He groaned suddenly,  both from Karsa watching him like he'll run if she leaves and from the vastness of the work remaining. He hadn't even done half of the tomatoe beds, and he was close to fainting already.

Karsa placed a cold hand on his bald head and patted gently. "Let it out you poor thing." She said mockingly.

Woka looked up over his shoulder from his crouched position at his wife's smiling face, getting fed up. He tried to press down his frustration though and level his voice as he spoke. "You should go inside. Really."

Karsa chuckled looking amused at his intemperance. "And do what?" She asked.

"Sweep or something, just go somewhere else or I am abandoning this work for your inobedience."

Her smile faded. "I swear Woka you can be shameless at times."___ Woka smirked happy he got something out of her__ "Don't leave this garden, the tomatoes will rot, and we have a harsh season to go."

She thinks he doesn't know? But everyday it's just work and work and more work. Gone is the dry season when he will sleep till he says no more, he will drink palm wine to his fill, and watch the children play___ The peaceful season. Not just because Gatua scarcely attacks, but because there are no farms then. Farming and fixing things are masculine jobs while cooking and processing farm food are for the females. And things scarcely spoils in the dry season.

Woka rose and picked a stave moving to the other side. He was sweaty, itchy, and sticky. Karsa had her hands on her hip, looking so beautiful as she watched him. Deep down he wanted to impress her with his work___ he knows it was foolish, but then she always repeats how her father does it until he wanted to do it better than the old man. He was helpless, he knew.

Woka shook his head, shaking the thought away. He crouched by the side and joined the stave he held with one of the vertical ones embedded into the ground, then started tying. Speaking as he did. "You know Karsa, sometimes I wonder," He said. "How a woman could be so beautiful as you, yet be so torturous. It's like the beauty of a snake." Touch it because it's beautiful and get hurt.

Karsa gave a sort of a half chuckle, like a cough. "A good wife should torture her husband." She retorted.

"That's you mindset." Woka snorted, too weak even to win a duel of words he knew, but still he got into it. "But I think a good wife should pamper her husband." The weakest of arguments, he thought. Ah well, here comes.

He could hear Karsa snigger. "And let him sleep all day and night? Cook for him? You would like that wouldn't you Woka?" She questioned. "I am sorry husband but I love you too much to do that to you. I'd rather torture you no matter how painful it might be for me than see you waste away. So you can be strong to hold your own in a fight against men, or women, or pampered husbands. Except the snake, you can't fight that one. I am the snake in your proverb right?"

Woka threw her a glance to see her grinning. It's stupid, he thought of her words then continued his work. She finally went away. He didn't finish the work till the sun rose to the middle of the sky, still he didn't finish. He kept fitting and tying staves, and more fitting, and tying. He was exhausted but kept going, wiping the occasional sweat that rolled down and stung his eyes with mechanical will.

Finally....

"Woka!" Karsa suddenly called from the back. "Come and eat."

"About time." Woka muttered, looking at the garden, he'd done most of it. He dropped the stave he was holding, was about to fit, then matched out of the garden walking with a slow gait. You should always stroll or saunter, he believes, even if you have the strength for more. He hates haste, and the garden he realized.