A Moving Song

My next-door neighbor. She was humming. A moving song. Never heard her sing. I lay on my bed listening, wondering what trouble kept her awake this late night, singing to herself. 

Suddenly, something drummed against my roof. Rain! Without warning? I rushed out to take clothes off the line and in the process, bumped into her. She had come out to place a bucket directly below the edge of her roof to collect rain water and was about shutting her door.

"Prisca!" I called.

"Hi!" She responded.

I knew something was troubling her but I didn't know how to ask. 

Back in my room, I was in a dilemma. Go knock on her door? It would be weired. We've never had a long chat beyond the usual everyday pleasantries. How do I begin?

"I see you are in trouble. I feel your pain. You can confide in me."

Absurd! If there's nothing bothering her, she will find me weird. And if there really was something, why would she confide in a stranger? 

She was the third woman her husband was married to in a space of three years and a few months. The first died. So did the second. Why did she agree to marry such a man? Since he was a pastor, the members of his church must have assumed that he was undergoing a spiritual battle. 

I don't know why I find those deaths suspicious. Something isn't clear. Her husband doesn't strike me as a very devout man of God. Was she worried she might end up like his previous wives? Could there be something horrific those women discovered upon marrying the priest? And when he realized they could no longer keep the secret he eliminated them? Hmmm...

Maybe he's innocent and a victim of unfortunate circumstances. Perhaps behind his everyday smiles is a worried personality, wondering if any woman will have the courage to love him if his third wife died like the rest. Grieving the loss of a life partner, trying to adapt to the new and in between battling with rumours roaming around that he might have used his deceased wives for money rituals. There are plenty of such stories in the news these days. 

Every now and then, a church member troops in to say hi to the pastor's wife. But she knows at the back of her mind that they are checking on her to see if she isn't deceased like the rest. Her stars are still bright awake despite the cloud of gloominess hanging around them.

By Benjamin Nambu

From: Ghana

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