There was a loud bang. It sounded as if it was right in the house. There was silence after that, then there was another bang, much louder than the one before.
I groped in the darkness in fear. Then I heard the distinct shattering of glass and footsteps pounded outside. Throughout all this, Mai VaMaidei was snoring, oblivious of the peril around us. A voice yelled in pain and distress. Someone scratched the door as if trying to open it.
There was a crow bar under the bed. As I knelt to retrieve it, Mai VaMaidei suddenly woke up.
“What is it?” She said.
“Ssh,” I gestured in the darkness. The scratching at the door had intensified. By now, Mai VaMaidei was sitting on the bed. Outside, it was dark. A few stars beamed on the earth from outer space.
The scratching on the door stopped abruptly. We all heard footsteps going away. Then we heard another cry of distress. After that, there was dead silence and the night was swallowed in darkness. We looked at each other in the dark.
Whoever had been at our door had walked away. Who was it?
The problem is night is full of danger. You open the door at your own peril.
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I could not sleep afterwards. I went in the next room. The children were all asleep. I took a slice of bread from the bread bin and munched it as I went back to bed. The bread had a sour taste as if someone had sprinkled some baking soda on it. It made me thirsty and so I drank some water and went back to bed. I slept facing up, staring at the ceiling.
Mai VaMaidei was already snoring. I slept with one eye open and the crow bar gave me some false sense of security.
The sun was rising in the east when I heard a sharp knock on the door. I stumbled out of bed and went to open the door. To my consternation, there were two police constables. A trail of blood had led them to my door. The door itself had spots of blood. The blood belonged to the person who had tried to open the door.
I later learnt that Baba and Mai Phiri, a couple who lived in our street had fought during the night. In fact Baba Phiri had beaten his wife to a pulp. It all started when he returned home at midnight, drunk and demanded that his wife must warm his food. Mai Phiri had refused and this drove the husband beserk.
“We see there is blood all over your door, what happened?” Asked one of the police constables, he was tall and had a face that was not used to smiling. I coughed before I could say anything.
“Someone came and knocked at our door last night, the blood must belong to that person,” said Mai VaMaidei behind me. She had woken up. Both the police constables gave her a cold stare.
“We were afraid to open the door, we didn’t know what was happening,” I said.
Mai Phiri had escaped from her husband and had tried to seek help. I felt guilty. I was afraid to ask the next question but I had to do it.
“Is she okay? Where is she?” I said.
The street was suddenly full of curious onlookers. They were looking at us with curiosity.
The police constables took their time to respond, then the tall one said, "she's dead.”
I suddenly felt a warm rush of air in my face. I was filled with a huge sense of guilt. I had not helped when help was needed the most. I saw tears streaming down Mai VaMaidei’s face.
Gender-based violence was on the rise and people were losing their lives. Tragedy had struck and sadly someone lost her life unnecessarily.
Onie Ndoro
Onie X@ 90396982
