3983806649_87076c299d_zI stick my fork into my husband’s body and bring the meat into my mouth. I chew.

The women boo on and continue to smack my clean-shaven head. I still hear Nkechi’s voice. She strongly believes I killed my husband. She had joined them to cook his heart and liver. Now, I’ve been forced to eat the half-boiled meat of my own husband. They also washed his dead body into a bucket and served me a drink from it.

I take a sip and almost throw up. If I did throw up then it proves that I’m guilty of killing him. If I fall sick within a week of eating my husband, I’m guilty.

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My son returns without the police. I knew they wouldn’t come. “They do not like to dabble into family matters” I had told my son but he wouldn’t have it. He is as stubborn as his father was. I hope it doesn’t kill him.

I’m not sure if I would survive my husband’s family. If I did, I’d come for all of them. One by one.  They would face the same fate as their son—my dead husband.

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I warned him, but he was too stubborn. I told him in plain words that I would kill him if I found him with another woman. The Police found his dead body in the hotel room with his naked mistress cowering by his side.

I can’t bear stubborn people. See where his stubbornness has landed him? In my plate!

I bring the fork to my mouth again and chew my lunch. I close my nostrils with my right hand and take another sip of my husband’s bath water. Nkechi slaps my right hand off my nose, and I stare at her and smile.

I hate stubborn people, and Nkechi is a very stubborn person. Just like her brother… Just like him.

 

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Post image by THOR via Flickr

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Portrait - Osemegbe