“And in every union, let there be a bond, one that binds in quiet,” the voice still felt clear, drumming the words that haunted her. Sometimes she thought she could see the words running down from the well designed roof. A roof she had gazed to severally when her mind failed her.
Kamimo had been a loved wife. She wasn’t sure if she was loving, not with the dreams that had edged themselves in her lately.She sat quietly, her face radiating a warmth of a beautiful young wealthy wife. Deep inside her there was a vicious battle, incomprehensible.
Kamimo, born last in a family of four was the only girl. Her parents were traditional hard liners with a windy sway of Christianity. She had been brought up facing conflict of the two. But where they agreed she was disillusioned. She lived in a closed fist of self conflicts. Peace was alien to her. If it brought itself, she would cause the inevitable, and laugh as things broke. That had been a life she thrived in.
Karagita village as Kamimo loved telling everyone was situated between two hills, ample shades and clean water. Grazing lands ran long and wide, so did the hunting bushes, a culture that was getting outlawed.
“How did this all happen?” Kamimo asked this facing the wall not expecting an answer from her husband who was lost in his own delusions. “Maybe there is still a way through this, if not out of it,” she hissed this time looking straight into her husbands sharp face, avoiding the disappearing eyes. Lately she had noticed that her husband was keeping to himself. But his joy would vanish at the sight of her. “Maybe I am to blame. If there is blame anyways.” “And what should you be blamed for, sometimes its no ones fault, things happen for and with a reason.” He spoke now fully attentive to her, his thick voice echoing, surprisingly Kamimo never let her small hands off the chin.
When Kamimo married Ithaka, she had all dreams of a happy marriage. Roses in bed and thorns in the fire. Theirs was a happy ever after dream marriage. Many looked forward to see how the two would advance. They had come together as a secret. Had been praised and jeered for that act. It was considered in one way bold and another a sin.
Ambitions and success brought them to the urban life. She decided to work her way up the career path while her husband embarked on his education and running of a family business. Having children was only a discussion from family members especially Ithaka’s mom. Their time together was mostly in the morning as they left the basement parking of their two storey bungalow. Mostly Ithaka would return to a fully dressed and snoring wife.
After two years, Kamimo having graduated, and with a little help from her husband opted to start a kindergarten. This was a good time for her. She could spend time tending school issues and be at home when her husband came back. Life and love blossomed. Sundays became even livelier. Attending Church together. Having lunch outside at the comfort of whistling trees and splashing water. All time smiling to the congregants who had seen so little of them since they moved into the neighborhood. A happy ever after got a real meaning. A handsome tithe made the pastor have some free time whenever he saw the couple.
The school became an envy to many. It was a gold that hang on a mango tree. The school had gotten roots. A fully pledged primary school. She had hopes to build a high school too. Mr Ithaka was now a common face in the school compound, feared and loved. If you were in the wrong side of the enthusiastic Mrs Kamimo Ithaka, you got reprieve upon meeting her husband.
Kamimo finally delivered the first bundle. A joy of a womb. She silenced the speculators, turned them to spectators. It was her time. She made sure everyone noticed. This didn’t take long, soon she was like a run away bride. Being at home was the house help’s obligation. She saw her daughter less. School was everything to her. Years went by but she continued the distance. Pleads of her husband seemed like a nuisance. She wanted her space.
It was now the seventh birthday of little Wacera. The sixth birthday that the mom would miss. Mr Ithaka had tried, but she didn’t bulge. As the cake was ceremoniously cut to pave and mark an added year to his jumping daughter, he sunk heavily in his seat, his mind rocketing away.”If its children you want, let’s have them with someone else. But I am not carrying anymore child!”Kamimo shouted. “But we are both capable to have and raise more. Why should your option be considered?” He had responded this being a hundredth discussion. ” Maybe you have not been listening, all these years.” The agreement had come through, Ithaka would have children but with the house help who agreed without hesitation. She was not to lay claim of the child. She had practically posed as Wacera’s mom.
Mr and Mrs Ithaka’s house help had to have a house help, it was time to deliver. In anticipation, she gave birth to twins. A boy and a girl. Ithaka didn’t know whether to be happy, confused or sad. He had two mothers. One who took the name, another who took care. A wife who didn’t want to toil with child care. Work was a good excuse to be away. Amazingly, when the twins were born, she took days off to help. This added to the confusion the husband was in. She was seen more. The house help wasn’t involved in naming the two beautiful children. It was the work of Kamimo. She referred to them as her own and named them after her mom and dad. “How interesting”, mumbled Ithaka opening eyes just a moment as his daughter joyously held a cake almost tickling his nose. Her face eroding all pains.
It was becoming more confusing as weeks went by. Kamimo went back and buried herself neck high in the sand of school. The house help though forbidden by her of any contact with the husband had her own dreams. Dreams that fit no way into reality. She fancied the life she was living, could she have a way to own the life? She was a mom to children who called her aunt. In church Kamimo would stand with her husband and three children as the house help cheered on with a happy face covering a pierced heart. A couple, an envy to the community and a treasure to the church. Who could believe her. They were players in money and everyone offered them prayers.
Ithaka loved the children, they were his. Kamimo loved the children, to the world, they were hers. The house help loved the children, she knew two were hers. But she was under oath, it choked her.
Kamimo, as she pondered over the matter decided she would change. She had seen how much the husband laughed around the house help. She had one day returned un announced. Her husband, children and the house help were running on the field behind the house, elated by the sunset. Beaming of joy and energy. She wanted to be right. Then some notes took her by surprise. She regretted stepping into the house help’s room. “Oh my, ..am I still loved? Hey, Ithaka! Ithaka..” She shouted, trying to feign play.