MARIAM THE GOOD GIRL.

EPISODE 4

I felt shy and didn’t fully understand sister Asma. Husband just looked at me, said nothing. I served him food, invited him shyly, returned to my seat. Asma said: “Husband, you see—she has feminine manners and shyness. She knows how to behave. And if she stays even a month in Dar, she’ll sharpen up.” Husband said: “Really?” Asma replied yes. She continued conversations I found unusual—like advertising me to her own husband.

We ate and finished. Husband stood and went to his room. Asma told me: “My young sister, please help with all bedroom work—your sister gets tired when coming from business. Things like making the bed, washing sheets, preparing husband’s bath water in the sink, preparing his clothes—please help with everything concerning our husband, okay?” Hmm, I was surprised but had no choice. I said okay.

Life continued—I did everything she told me. Asma bought me very good lotions, perfume, makeup for face beauty. She said when bathing, apply and dress well to match her—friends can come anytime, she doesn’t want them to see me as village girl and ask questions. I said okay. Days passed—I dressed well, ate well, slept well—with lotions. In just two months I gained weight and looked beautiful. Also, every two weeks she gave me salon money—my hair became new. I lived like at home. I thanked God so much for giving me sister Asma—she raised me like her young sister. The work salary she paid on time—but I saved it. She even bought me a phone.

All those months husband was calm as ever—though he came home to eat even midday, he never had bad habits with me—just ate and thanked.

One day I was resting after work and cooking lunch (older child goes to school, younger eats and sleeps; Asma was at her shop). While dozing, I heard voices downstairs like people talking. Who are these and how did they enter? I woke, went quietly to look. At the stairs I looked at living room—Asma was there with two other beautiful women, wearing minis and heels. Asma was pouring wine into their glasses while talking. I wanted to go back to room, but heard one say: “Asma, how are you living now? Or are you lying to us? Meaning your husband up to today, since the second child, still doesn’t stand and is with you only?” Another said: “That’s what surprises me—how can a man who was fine suddenly not stand? Asma, or are you lying?” Hmm, I was very surprised—meaning brother-in-law rooster doesn’t climb the pot? That’s why he’s calm—impotent poor man?

Asma said: “You know me, you’re my BFFs—how can I lie to you? My marriage is like that. I’ve tried talking to him, finding medicine—he refuses, says he’ll be fine. I’ve used all ways to trap him—nothing. I’ve tried cooking foods for strength—cassava, dona, etc.—he eats but no change. I’m confused.” One friend said: “Hmm, dear, if that’s it, we have to intervene. What do you say?” Asma said: “I’m listening—how to intervene?” She said: “What if we find a beautiful girl no man can refuse—trap husband until he catches her, to test if the problem is you or what.” Another friend said: “I thought that too—there’s a certain campus girl, like my young sister—we can plan.” Asma said: “Mmm, no—husband is rich with money. Campus girls might make me lose more—I might be dumped. Wait, I have my plan—I was waiting for the right time. I think the time is now. Your plan I’ll work on, but with a girl I trust and control myself—no doubt. The girl I’ll give won’t turn.” Friends said: “Okay then.” They continued talking. I heard a child’s voice, went quickly to check while thinking—what things are happening here? Husband calm like that—impotent? And his wife is planning to find him a woman. I got tired.

Days passed. One day Asma didn’t go to shop—we helped with work, but she had no peace—like three months since I came. We finished work, she cooked, served, we sat to eat. I saw to ask—since we were close, talked a lot, even gossiped. I said: “Sister, why do you look unhappy today—are you sick?” Asma looked at me: “No, just thoughts—I’m not okay.” I said: “Sister, I don’t like seeing you like this. Tell me—maybe I can help even thoughts.” She looked, laughed: “Really, you can help?” I said yes, sister—for you I’ll do anything. Asma said: “Okay, let’s eat first.” She spoke happily. We ate, washed dishes together, sat in living room. Asma said: “My young sister, please help me with something.” I said okay—what? She said: “Don’t you love your sister?” I said yes—you are my life. She said: “Thanks. Now, sister—my marriage is disturbing my peace. Your brother-in-law has a problem, and you’re the only one who can help me know what his problem is.” Hearing that—hmm, I swallowed saliva first. I said: “Now, how do you want me to help?” She said: “I want you to trap my husband until he sleeps with you.”

I felt like I didn’t hear. I said: “Abee, I didn’t understand, sister.” She said: “My husband doesn’t stand—his thing doesn’t erect. Now I want to know if it’s only me or all women—so I can help him. So I say—I want you to trap my husband until he enters softly, then have s*x. Mai, don’t you understand what I mean??”