Co-wives, Co-widows by Adrienne Yabouza

Author:Adrienne Yabouza [Yabouza, Adrienne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dedalus Limited
Published: 2021-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

8

Kwa na Kwa was the slogan of the outgoing and incoming president’s party, KNK its name. It sounded beautiful in Sango, the national language and the beating lexical heart of the republic, and it meant ‘work, only work’. Throw in an impartial justice system and your entire population is on an equal footing. Grand and impressive concepts. Except that feet in the republic were far from equal: some were bare; some were clad in flimsy flip flops; some sported Chinese Converses, or Converses re-christened Adidas or Nike; and still others got their kicks in patent leather pumps.

Kwa na Kwa would provide for every man and woman. Except that men and women couldn’t decide any better than God could what was just. When even God sometimes messed things up, what could possibly be expected from people?

These were the thoughts that swarmed inside Ndongo Passy’s head during those days and nights. They were there when she was with her child, they were there when she was talking to her parents and her cousins. They were there when she stood naked under the shower and felt the weight of her breasts, soft as manioc or coffee powder.

It was no good dreaming of justice; it was just like with the elections. Ndongo Passy had come to understand something that all the somebodies who’d chewed their pencils until the very last day of the last year of university pretended not to understand: there was no justice. She knew this, but still she wanted to try. She was like the good citizen who goes back to vote again and again, hoping every time that a miracle will occur. She had a little money; she could afford to take her case before the judge. She’d been thinking about it since Zouaboua’s first attack, she’d discussed it with her co-widow. Her mind was made up. She would prepare her notes and the Sango would creep out of her mouth and into the ears of the judge until he knew the whole of her story. It was out of necessity that the makako climbed the tree. Ndongo Passy would climb, in search of justice for herself, her co-widow and their children. Why shouldn’t she?

‘Hello, Jean de Dieu?’

‘What can I do for you, Ndongo Passy?’

‘I need a good lawyer to plead my case. You know, I think…’

‘I know.’

‘I thought you might have come across one; more than one, perhaps…’

‘I have. I’m on my way.’

‘Be quick. I’ll give you the taxi money when you get here.’

Jean de Dieu was the child of Ndongo Passy’s mother’s brother. Soon he would don the lawyer’s robe himself; for now he was still in training.

It was a Saturday morning. Ndongo Passy sat at the door of her family’s compound, selling white flour and firewood, just as she’d done at the door of Lidou’s compound. A small radio beside her played a tune by Sapéké Musica. After that a programme called ‘Open Heart’ began. Ndongo Passy listened distractedly to an inhabitant of PK 5 intersection praising his preferred candidate in the deputies’ election.

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