MARIAM THE GOOD GIRL.

EPISODE 6

I was hurt by those words and realizing that sister Asma is betraying her husband—she doesn’t love him, she just loves money. But why is her husband so calm like that? And how did this problem of not getting erect start? I found myself feeling sorry for Roman—poor man, he doesn’t talk much, he’s extremely calm. One of Asma’s friends said: “Weee, I remember you used to say Roman is a lion in bed, my friend—I don’t understand now, how did you end up betraying him to the point of having kids outside?” Asma said: “You too—can you compare Roman with my Felix? Felix is a real man, he’s a beast in bed. Remember he was just my ex—I left him because of his cheating back when we were in school, but we loved each other so much, and he was my first man. I left him out of anger and accepted Roman just to get money and a good life. You know Felix is just a hustler in the middle of town, so Roman is everything.” Another friend said: “Be careful—if Roman finds out, he’ll kill you.” Asma said: “How will he know? For example? The children’s documents have his name—Roman. Felix has no say, no money, so he has no right to claim the children. All he knows is to stay quiet and let his kids be raised.” Another friend said: “Hmm, you’ve really handled it, my friend—I don’t know how you plan things.” Asma said: “Roman is in the palm of my hand—he’s made a lot with me, so he knows perfectly that if he tries to leave, it’ll be messy. Though lately I feel he has someone outside—let me investigate him.” Her friend said: “Hmm, what kind of person—and he’s impotent, how did you find out?” Asma said: “I set up little Mai to trap him so I could see—I left them alone twice when I went out, but he never entered her softly, and he was coming home late, drunk until midnight.” Her friend said: “Hmm, how did you start sending your little sister—and what if she doesn’t tell you the truth?” Asma said: “I know that girl—she’s very village, very raw, and I control her completely—she can’t lie to me. Plus, my husband can’t sleep with this little child who still smells of urine. I saw she doesn’t attract him—first, what beauty does she have? And what swag? I removed her from the bush where she was dry and cracked a little, now she’s a bit polished. And me—how did I even take a wild monkey to a lion? I brought a village thing to a city boy used to beautiful women who know how to bathe in town—aaaaghh. But now I feel there’s a prostitute outside—I’m going to follow him. If I catch him, he’ll regret it.” Her friends laughed: “You and your things.”

I was hurt by Asma’s words—so she sees me as very village? A wild monkey? Smelling of urine? Doesn’t she know I stopped trapping during her holiday because I didn’t want to? And she says she loves me as her little sister—why does she disrespect me like this? Fine, okay—if her husband is with another woman somewhere, let her go live with him fully, stupid. I went to my room, stood in front of the mirror, turned around—why in the village was I told I’m beautiful? I just cleaned up from poverty and hard work? And here when I go to shops and markets, many young men want me—they say I’m very beautiful. Why does sister disrespect me like this? Fine.

I felt very bad. Suddenly I heard: “Mai! Mai!” Sister called me—I answered and went down. She said: “I’m going out—cook your husband nice food, okay? I’ll be a bit late coming back.” I said okay. She left with her friends. I went to the kitchen and started cooking, then texted husband: “I’ve cooked ugali with mlenda and baked fish—please come eat.” The message delivered, and he replied immediately: “Wow, it’s like you were in my mind—I was craving that today. Truly you’ve given me a junior wife. I’m coming now, I’m bringing fermented milk—you like it, right?”

Hmm, his message made me happy. I replied: “I understand you, husband. On the fermented milk—you’ve scared me a lot. I’m waiting—don’t be late.” He replied: “Just 15 minutes, I’m there.” I replied: “Cool.” I was happy with husband’s messages—he replied with joy today. He had never replied like that even once—if I said food is ready, he’d just say “OK” or “thanks.” But today even fermented milk is being brought? And his wife doesn’t love him—the kids aren’t his? She loves money. While with my poverty, if I got this husband, I’d settle and give him love—even his impotence I wouldn’t see. I felt so sorry for him.

I decided to call Mama Recho from the village—the one who helps me, who I left grandmother’s house with. She was happy to hear me. We talked, then I asked if she knows medicine for a man who doesn’t get erect. She was shocked: “You got a man who doesn’t stand in town?” I said no—just a brother suffering in his marriage, his wife is cheating because he doesn’t stand. She said: “Hmm, wait—let me ask my husband. You know he’s the expert in medicine.” I said: “Yes, I’m counting on you, my dear—I’ll send you the money I have saved in the phone.” She said okay. I planned to fully help husband—why should he be disrespected like this just because he’s impotent?

I went to my room, bathed well, wore my tight short dress (the one sister bought me), applied perfume, and made myself beautiful, then went down. Husband didn’t delay—when I saw him parking, I ran to the door, opened it. He got out with a box of fermented milk. I ran to him and took it. He laughed—something I’d never seen: “So my wife’s medicine is just fermented milk?” I laughed shyly: “I love it so much—I’ve missed it.” He said: “I’ll bring it every time you want from now on, okay?” I said okay. He said: “Come on then.” I led him to the table, took two glasses, poured the cold milk for him and me, served him food. All that time he was just staring at me with eyes I didn’t understand. I washed his hands, then said: “Welcome to food, husband.” He laughed: “I see you’ve forgotten your sister’s instructions—what did she say to call me?” I laughed shyly: “Husband.” He said: “Give me my title.” I said: “Welcome to food, my husband.” He said: “There—thank you, my wife. Sit here and eat.” I pulled a chair and started eating, but that day I felt so shy eating—every time I raised my eyes, I met husband Roman staring at me while eating. I remembered his wife’s filth and felt even more sorry for him. Suddenly he said: “My wife, this food is very sweet—damn.” I said: “You like it, huh?” He said yes. “Every day you’ve been cooking sweet food—I enjoy eating at home so much.” I said: “Then I’ll cook more—but tell me what you want to eat tonight?” He said: “In the evening—surprise me. I love surprises, my wife.” I said okay—you won’t be late? He said: “You want me to come early, my wife?” I said yes—come early so you can sit and watch football on TV. He laughed: “So you know what I watch?” I said yes—I see you. He laughed. He said: “Wife—up to today have you... or wait.” I said: “No—ask, why did you stop midway?” He said: “I’m late for work—I’ll ask my question another day.” I said okay.

He had finished eating. I wanted to wash his hands—he said: “No—finish eating. I’ll wash at the sink here, don’t worry.” (There was a sink in the dining area.) He washed, wiped with tissue, took out money: “This is for vegetables later, okay, my wife? Do sweet things like this for me.” I said okay. He said: “I’ll bring your milk—but make sure your sister doesn’t see.” I said okay. He gave me the money—it was a lot. I said: “Why so much money?” He came closer: “My wife, don’t be lazy using the money your husband gives you. I know you have your needs—whatever remains, use it all for yourself, wife, okay?” I felt so happy: “Thank you so much.” He said: “Cool—later.” I said okay. He left.

Hmm—this is truly Roman husband—why suddenly so charming? Today he made me feel truly like his wife—mmmhhh. I looked at the money, counted—it was a lot. A man gives money like this, yet his wife still goes to a rat? I took the dishes and went to buy vegetables. I bought octopus and its spices, whole coconut—I grated it at the market, bought dates and fresh milk, then returned home. In the evening I cooked coconut rice, prepared baked fish, made my octopus village-style, boiled fresh milk in a non-cooling bottle, prepared dates.

Around 7 PM I heard the gate open—checked, it was husband. I opened the door as he parked. He said: “How was your day, wife?” I said: “I’m fine.” He said: “Your sister back?” I said: “Not yet—she said she’ll be late.” He said: “Okay—your bag there.” He took out four packs of milk and something wrapped—I didn’t know what. I looked at him, thanked him. He said: “Come on—let’s go inside. I want to bathe first, wife—I feel very hot.” I said okay. I went in, left the bag on the table, ran to his room to prepare water. Husband laughed at how I ran. When he reached the room, he found me filling the sink. He followed: “I want to shower with cold water today—I’m very tired, I want cold water, my wife—forgive me.” I said don’t worry. I moved his soaps for him and left. Hmm—I saw something had completely changed in him.

He bathed quickly, came down. I prepared milk and dates for him. Husband said: “You child—you know me so well.” I said: “Welcome, my husband—food is getting cold. It’ll be ready soon.” He said: “Thanks, wife.” I went to bathroom, bathed, changed into another short dress (since those are the clothes his wife bought me). I prepared the surprise and invited husband. He came full of joy, sat: “Ehee—what are we eating today?” I said: “Shhh—surpriseeee.” I served him the coconut rice—he smelled: “Daaah—my wife, you’ll make me fat now. Coconut rice—I love it so much.” I laughed, served vegetables and octopus on his plate, cold juice. I invited him. He said: “My wife—you know how to cook octopus?” I laughed: “It’s a sweet fish for men.” He laughed: “Okay then.”

I served myself and started eating. He said: “Ehee—how was your day?” I said: “It was fine.” He said: “Even me—I see tomorrow I want you to go to the salon, wife—it’s like you’ve sat too long with that hair. Your husband has been lazy—I haven’t paid attention. You pay attention to me so much, my wife.” I said: “Thank you, husband.” He said: “I’ll give you money after we finish eating—but there’s something I want to tell you today about you.” I said okay—what do you want to know? He said: “About your history—tell me the truth, not what Asma lied about.” I said okay. I narrated everything—I hid nothing, up to meeting Asma. Husband looked at me with so much pity: “I’m so sorry.” I said: “Thank you so much—that’s life.” He said: “Everything will be okay—believe in God.” I said: “Amen.”

We finished eating. I cleared dishes. Husband said: “Today I had a heavy meeting at work, and tomorrow there’s one—I want to rest early, my wife.” I said: “Sorry—let me prepare your bed.” He said okay. We went upstairs. I removed the fancy sheets, made the sleeping ones, invited him. He said: “Thank you—sleep well, my wife.” I said: “You too, my husband.” He climbed into bed. I looked at him and felt so sorry—how impotent, his wife cheating on him. I said: “Now you’re sleeping—big sister hasn’t returned yet?” He laughed: “She said she’ll be late—she’ll find me asleep.” I said: “Okay—but there’s something I wanted to tell you, but don’t get angry—I’m just trying to help you, my husband.” He said: “What is it—tell me?” I said: “Back home there’s someone I know who treats men’s natural strength—I talked to her to find for you so you can be okay.” Husband looked at me carefully—he wasn’t laughing this time. He said: “You’re finding me medicine for male strength? Why? Who told you I have no male strength, Maimuna?” Uwi—he spoke while standing, coming closer—he was very angry—until I regretted—oh God, I’ve messed up. I feared—I had reached the wall. I said: “Sorry—sister told me you’re impotent, and I confirmed because she sent me to trap you—you never got trapped, husband.” Husband looked at me, then said: “So that’s what’s being said—I’m impotent?” He laughed: “Okay—I’ll thank you if you get that medicine—insults have increased, even junior wife was told. Okay—thank you, junior wife, for caring—because your sister doesn’t care to that extent, I think.” I said: “She cares—that’s why she wanted me to give you...” Husband said: “Shhh—let’s go to your room so you can comfort me to sleep—you’ve already taken all my sleep.” I said okay.

We went to my room. He removed his shirt, stayed in boxers: “Come—comfort me.” I said okay. I wasn’t worried—the man himself doesn’t stand. I climbed behind him on the bed. He said: “Remove your clothes—I feel hot. Lie down.” Hmm—there it became hard. Husband turned to me, removed my clothes—I stayed in panties (I don’t wear bras yet—breasts haven’t dropped). Husband looked at me—I felt shy. He said: “Why are you fearing me, Maimuna? I’m a gentle snake—no harm. I’m a bee of honey—I just eat flour. Be at peace.” I looked at him: “But it will end when we get that medicine—you’ll drink and be more than you were before.” Husband moved his lips close to mine: “You love me that much, Mai?” I said yes—and I feel sorry for you. Suddenly he kissed my lips lightly. I got excited, looked into his soft eyes. He started sucking my lips—pulled me closer—I was now close to him. Suddenly I met his hard erection. Uwi—husband wasn’t impotent—his machine stood strong and big. I feared. Husband sucked my neck, came to breasts—I felt dangerous pleasure. He removed my panties—I was naked. He removed his boxers—now I saw his thing standing firm. Husband said: “Mai—I love you and need you. I want to make love to you.” I couldn’t even answer—I let him. Husband prepared me by playing with my untouched flower—then started entering. After effort, he succeeded entering. He said: “Maimuna—thank you for taking care of yourself like this. I’ve never met a woman so fresh. You’re so sweet—and so hot—you grip me aaaaghh—I love you so much. Please don’t give yourself to anyone. I’m your husband, okay, Maimuna?” I said okay, baby. Then he started giving me gentle thrusts—at first it hurt, but I started getting used to and enjoying. Husband—who they said is impotent—knew things, man. When he saw I was used to it, he increased fire. Uwi—I was given pleasure—pleasure. He ejaculated but didn’t remove—he continued inside—deep thrusts until I got tired and asked for rest. He said: “Okay, my baby—please let me ejaculate again—I have so much desire. You’ve fed me strength foods, and I haven’t made love for a long time, baby.” I said okay. He changed styles—many positions. He ejaculated after a very long time. He lay beside me: “Maimuna—you’ve become my true wife—sleep like this. Please take care of yourself—don’t betray me. I can’t stand betrayal, you hear?” I said okay. He said: “I love you so much—anything you want, tell me.” I said okay, baby. He said: “Now—you’ve seen me impotent?” I laughed: “You lied to your wife—why?” He laughed: “A man stands when he loves and wants. Now—you won’t believe.” I laughed. He started touching me again—I relaxed. He climbed on me again—pleasure—pleasure. We continued until sleep overtook us.

We woke to a voice calling: “Mai! Maiiiii!” It was sister at my door knocking. We both startled. Sister said: “I’m coming in—why are you sleeping like this? I’ve been calling—you don’t answer?” She grabbed the handle and started opening.