The Wood Carver’s Wife
by
Rozier K Mutinda
SMASHWORDS EDITION
published by Rozier K. Mutinda
The Wood Carver’s Wife
Copyright 2011 Rozier K. Mutinda
Smashwords Edition License Notes
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Table of Contents
Danni Moyo shifts nervously in the anteroom of the Chief’s residence. He clutches his hands behind his back in an effort to still his growing excitement. The message arrives earlier that morning while he is attending his goats. The runner skids on some droppings and ungraciously falls on his buttocks.
“The Chief requests your presence at sundown, Carver.” The runner announces solemnly with the little dignity he has left before speeding off again.
As he recalls the event, his grin slips slowly as he realizes what the news means to him and especially to his wife Faith.
I stand seething on the threshold as mists swallow Danni’s leaving. I want to call out to him, but the words are stuck in my throat. Sunlight filters through the trees at the edge of my vegetable garden. Knuckling my back, I lift my head to greet the morning, listening to sweet bird tweets. Sighing, I walk back into the cottage to finish my breakfast. The gruel has grown cold but the baby is hungry and kicking. I gently pat my stomach and pick up a spoon.
Later that day the goats are restless inside their pen. I toss them their feed indifferently, ignoring their pitiful bleating. I pull up some stubborn weeds crowding the mint and basil, but grow too tired to finish the rest of the chores.
“I miss him too.” I mutter as I waddle into our bedroom. The bedsprings protest as I lay down to rest my aching feet. As the afternoon sun lulls me to sleep, my last thoughts are of the morning dishes unwashed and a husband on a mysterious quest.
The vegetable stew is delicious. I lick the spoon and burp as I contemplate another bowl. The baby is quiet, appreciating the garlic in my bloodstream. I listen to the evening concert of crickets and bullfrogs while a gentle evening breeze caresses my skin.
I’m about to doze off when a sound startles me. A shadow falls across the hearth as the breeze suddenly turns chilly. I look up to see a tall woman framed in starlight. Her lithe body swathed in white, while long black braids float in a cloud around her face. I stare mesmerized by high cheekbones and full lips. She smiles to put me at ease, showing open palms.
“May I enter?” a soft kindly voice asks as she steps into the cottage. Before I can reply, the baby kicks my kidney and I double up in pain. She offers her name as she gently helps me to bed.
“Anne Rose. I’ll be here all night.” A whisper floats across the darkening room.
The ancient grove is wreathed in silence as Danni kneels under branches. He lays offerings to the ancestors beseeching them to watch over his wife and unborn child. A vision of a mask flashes in his mind before the first chip. Triangular eyes filled with fire and sharpened teeth stained in blood. Terrified hands pick up his favorite chisel. He works the log in a trance, coxing forth the mask with steady taps as his fingers dance an ancient tune from skilled mind maps.
I sip the hot liquid cautiously watching Anne Rose surreptitiously through lowered lashes. She holds her own steaming mug and hands me a pastry. I wolf it down hungrily, eating so fast, I feel queasy.
Standing at the front door, a feeling of déjà vu washes over me; I watch Ann Rose swinging a machete down the garden path.
“I’ll get the kudzu.” She calls out as she slashes the offending vines at the edge of my garden fence. I glance to my toes peeking from under my distended stomach, already swelling in fatigue.
I watch Anne Rose through tired eyes. She stirs millet flour into boiling water. Yielding the spatula with brutal efficiency, she stirs the mixture briskly. The baby is restless and unrelenting with well aimed kicks to my organs. Anne Rose lifts a lid of boiling greens. A bitter smell wafts across the room and accosts my nostrils. I push the uneaten food away and stumble into the bathroom.
“You need your strength. Eat.” Anne Rose commands me as I rinse out vomit. She stands behind me, a blurry shape I can barely make out through the mirror.
“Not tonight.” I answer wearily as I drag myself into the bedroom.
I squat, screaming through darkness and pain. Anne Rose sits below me, urging me to push, her black eyes bright with excitement. I feel a tug, a flow and sudden emptiness. An angry squall announces the arrival of my son. Elated, I reach weakly for the baby, but Anne Rose is already turning away, rubbing him down vigorously.
She slams a tub by the bed. A bowl of cold congealing soup sloshes sloppily on my nightstand. I ask for the baby as she walks over to the crib.
I touch him in wonder, my knuckles grazing his baby softness. I sing quietly to him as he nurses. Anne Rose glides across the room towards me and I pull him closer, if only for a moment.
lululu hush my baby, don’t cry
sleep now and dream of blue sky
lululu hush my baby, lie still
daddy comes quickly over the hill
She snatches him away as I weep weak from hunger and birth. I hobble slowly towards the tub, cold water drowning my deepening grief.
I struggle to stay awake as the baby cries beyond my reach. By the window sill, a twittered song lulls him back to sleep. I listen thoughtfully, a plan forming in my mind.
An evening breeze snakes through the clearing, chasing sweat, dirt and leaves. Danni lays down his tools as the finished mask stares back at him.
“I dreamed of ancestors” Danni recalls the reedy voice of the blind Chief, his callused hands clasping him tightly.
“A new mask...” he trails off as a sudden coughing fit overcomes him. She steps forward from behind a screen with a cloth, handing it to the old man. Danni’s stomach shrivels at the memory of the chief’s new wife.
“He needs the mask immediately, Carver. He has to perform a healing dance before the turn of the moon.” Her voice is warm as she watches Danni helping the Chief to his chair. Even as she smiles at him, her black eyes flash with an icy blaze.
Hey you wood carver tapping a log
sharpen your metal run run run
son in danger and wife in a fog
chop the head burn burn burn
Danni blinks suddenly, breaking out of his reverie. The forest shadows dance in twilight and bird song. He listens closely in alarm and begins to sharpen his axe.
Danni creeps silently up the garden path. Through slits in the cottage’s shutters, he spots the Chief’s wife rocking a baby. She hums and buzzes strangely flicking her braids from her head. Parting hair reveals the horror he felt before but could not place. From the back of her neck, a forked tongue quickly darts from sharp teeth to snatch an insect treat.
I watch Danni sidle up to the unsuspecting ogre. He swings swiftly and silently, grabbing our son from the crimsoning body. I watch her head roll away as Danni follows my weak cries.
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Note to Reader
Thanks for reading! Be sure to check out my upcoming titles at Smashwords.com:
“The Student Bride”
“Waridi Project”
About the Author
I am a wannabe techie, slow knitter, obnoxious foodie, and aspiring writer. I also have an extremely patient spouse, some kids and a crazy dog.
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