The Legend of Zitel Kleinhart

IX

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The young woman made her way to the hut of Chief Waturuachi's first wife. On her way there, she thought of possible factors that could warrant being sent for. As far as she knew, the older woman hated her guts through and through. She'd given up on winning Lolo over because irrespective of her misfortune, she was a constant reminder of what the woman would never have again- youth.

Lolo's hut could not be mistaken for another's, for it was just as attractive as it was flamboyant- as attractive as a hut reinforced with mortar could be. Although it paled in comparison to Chief Waturuachi's hut, it was better than the other huts scattered around the compound. This signified the power dynamics in the Waturuachi family- Chief, Lolo and everyone else.

"Mama nno." The young woman knocked on the door and remained standing. Unless she was told to enter, she dared not replicate Abiriba's approach. Not unless she was tired of living.

After a while, a muted 'bata nime' was heard from inside the hut. Without much ado, the young woman stepped in, making sure to arrange her slippers on the left side of the entrance. The right side was for Lolo's children alone; Chief did not need to pull off his footwear before entering his wife's quarters.

As she walked into the hut, the young woman tried to take in as much as she could, while retaining a look of nonchalance and overall disinterest.

She noticed that several changes had been made to the the hut since she last entered it, and fought hard to prevent a sigh from leaving her mouth. Ọ ga-asị na ya enweghị ego ma ka nwee ike chọọ ụlọ nwunye ya mma?

She quickly blinked away the tears that formed in her eyes, refusing to give anyone a chance to mock or feel pity towards her. She and her son were given the least sturdy hut, but she was able to make a home out of it. It could never compare with this, but it was her own, at least. That was something to be grateful for- it would've been hell if she had to share a hut with any of the other wives, given their distaste towards her.

"Mama nno."

"I na -akpọ m nne, mana ị na -arafu di m." The older woman hissed venomously. "Akwụna."

The young woman swallowed the insult without a change in expression. Explaining the truth would not change what already happened. She was prepared to receive insults like this for the rest of her life, by virtue of who she was. After all, it was her choice- she chose this path, and she would see it to the very end.

After a prolonged silence, the older woman spoke again.

"Nwa gị nwoke etoruola ịga akwụkwọ. Agaghị m anapụ ya ihe dị mkpa maka nwata ọ bụla n'ihi enweghị uche gị. Ewerela m onwe m ịhụ na ọ nwetara ihe niile ọ chọrọ ịga ụlọ akwụkwọ. Naanị ị ga -akwụ ụgwọ ụlọ akwụkwọ ya. Ego m weere na nkwado gị agaghị ezu iji nweta ihe niile ọ chọrọ, ya mere agbakwunyere m ụfọdụ ego m na ya."