From primary school I knew the poem;
Little deeds of kindness
Little Words of love
Can make this earth an Eden
Like the heavens above
I did all that and yet my home was far from what the first man and woman enjoyed in Eden. I showered my wife with words of kindness, but unlike the heavens above, my wife still behaved out of turn and had turned me into what the English call a cuckold, and this was how it happened.
Born with a silver spoon in my mouth … and hands, I was cushioned from the unpleasantness life offers to the less fortunate. From afar, I watched people struggle to eat and do without life’s basic necessities. I was protected but that didn’t make me blind to the fact that the world isn’t exactly a bed of roses. Due to the circumstance of my birth, I went to the best schools and having been endowed with a more than average intelligence, sailed through academic challenges with predictable ease and soon it was time for me to leave home and raise a family of my own.
I was determined to maintain a problem free life, and since a bad wife is the surest way to misery and wretchedness to my understanding, consulted with friends that are married on the qualities of the ideal wife. It took time and a whole lot of goodwill but I finally learnt what I wanted and having been fortified by their wise counsel, I settled down to the intriguing business of looking for a wife.
I met Sharon at a wedding reception and had taken to her instantly. I’m not one for love at first sight as I know people that have made the classical mistake of marrying out of blind love and still living with the consequences, but I was sure she was an exception. Sharon comes like the roses without the thorns; she is tall, with curves that cause road accidents and a figure that can raise the dead. Her laughter is infectious and so modulated it could unstop deaf ears and that’s what got to me. I know chemistry ignites the fire but good character keeps it burning, but I was willing to ignore the character part of the package at that moment and made every move to take her to the altar.
My dream was realized in exactly five months; being wealthy has its benefits, and Sharon became my wife much to the admiration of my friends who couldn’t stop congratulating me for landing such a ‘heavenly’ catch. About this time, I was given employment by an Oil servicing company based in Port Harcourt and part of my schedule is being on a production platform for two weeks before I can enjoy the comforts of my home and the warm bosom of my charming wife for a fortnight. Not that I needed the money, but I find the work stimulating and the absence gave me something to look forward to.
With time Sharon became more endearing. The character traits I cherish in a woman were common place with her; she was humble, to her doing the right thing was more important than personal comfort. She is emotionally stable, enjoys life, responsible and enjoys giving pleasure to others. Sharon is unassuming and never tries to exert herself or ask too much from life. Also, I felt calm, peaceful and relaxed with her. She made me feel good; I could express myself with her and we were compatible in bed. Sharon is a woman I would want to marry again in another lifetime if there’s anything like that. She’s every man’s dream of the perfect wife, or so I thought.
Eighteen months into our marriage, I prepared hurriedly one morning to go back to work; anything my hands find to do, I do with all my heart. So, although I am rich, I never toyed with my job. The company shuttle will leave in about two hours to the airstrip for the flight to the production platform and I don’t intend to be late. I had kissed my wife goodbye and waved at the gatekeeper before heading out with my luggage.
Much to my chagrin, we couldn’t fly to our workplace after waiting for five hours due to bad weather and were asked to try the next day. And so with mixed feelings; the time wasted in packing and the prospect of returning to the warm embrace of my wife, I headed for home, expecting to be received with open affection.
The gate was left ajar when I arrived, and I made a bee line for the gatehouse to give the keeper a bit of my tongue but till this day, even after six years, I couldn’t forget the scene that assailed my eyes. My Sharon was spread-eagled and being ‘serviced’ by Musa, the gateman. At first my blood ran hot and then cold, icy sweat from my face strayed into my open mouth and it tasted like blood. My limbs quaked like a leaf tossed in the harmattan wind, my eyes glazed over but from the deep recesses of my soul; I summoned strength and let out a yell that must have been heard in Russia.
It was only then they became aware of my presence and with squeals, tried to cover themselves. But something in my countenance must have made them stop, as with eyes alight like a dark fire and a voice that must have emanated from hell; I ordered both to remain as I found them. None dare disobey this order and without looking at Sharon, I brought out my handset.
I called all my colleagues that were supposed to travel with me that day to visit and later added my friends to the list. They came in trickles; each shocked as they beheld the spectacle. A lot of tears was shed that day; shrieks of anguish that must have assaulted the ears of God. The tears were for me, not her. Their passion was in sympathy with my faithfulness, honesty and benevolence. I had been faithful to her all these months despite various advances from the opposite sex; when you are rich and young, it comes with the territory. I had provided her with emotional and material comfort, taken her family as mine and treated her like an angel.
For the first time in my life, I was out of my depths as I couldn’t fathom why such a pretty woman would allow herself to be humped on the floor of a gatehouse by a not too clean hireling. I can’t still understand why a woman with a beautiful name and so many virtues lack the one that matters the most. I couldn’t fathom why a woman that professes to love me should behave like a common harlot. I didn’t understand most things relating to her infidelity but we were all agreed on one thing. So, despite the weeping; ours and hers, we packed out her things in one accord and put them outside the gate. Sharon was allowed to put on her clothes, and like a fallen angel, was shoved out of her first estate. Let her explain the circumstances of her exit to her kith and kin herself; I couldn’t be bothered.
Apart from the people that were present, I had kept this macabre event to myself all these years and it had been preying on my mind. That’s why I am writing this piece for maybe; just maybe, it will help me forget Mrs. Don Pedro.