The Bride Price: An African Romance (Chitundu Chronicles) (2 page)

  “Miss Chitundu, are you feeling well?  You look like you are about to pass out.  Go outside and get a drink.  I think you are overheated.”

Myrna rushed from the room, banging her hip on a desk in her hurry.  She barely made it to the ablution block before she threw up the gruel she had eaten for breakfast.  She cleaned her teeth, rinsed out her eyes, checked her blouse and straightened her pleated jumper before heading back to the classroom.  She couldn’t think straight. Maybe she would have some weeks before she needed to tell anyone. But who could she tell?  Maybe she was mistaken.  After all, she had never been with a boy before, so how could this happen?  In the pit of her stomach, she knew it had.

When Myrna left the classroom, Wellington Taylor went back to her desk and pulled open the book where the pages were bent. He saw the pictures of the naked figures and thought this might have disturbed the girl.  Myrna was thirteen, but she was protected by her family and very innocent.  Maybe the anatomic drawings had been too graphic for her.  Wellington straightened out the pages and returned to his class notes, resolving that he would be available to the girl if she had questions.  He would talk to the biology teacher to ensure the girl was not ridiculed by the boys or made to feel unsure of herself. This girl was the brightest student in his class and it would be a shame to have her discouraged or intimidated.  What a difference it could make in the country to have girls educated, especially one who wanted to go into medicine.

Wellington thought about his two years at the exclusive boys’ school. They had been difficult, but the possibility of having an African girl pass her exams and move on to the university would make it all worth the effort.  He had been diligent in encouraging Myrna, and they had such a good rapport. Wellington’s eyes scanned the sea of blue uniforms, white collars, and closely cropped black hair. His eyes lighted on Myrna; the girl with glossy curls that cascaded down her back, a wide smile that lit up the room, and a nature as gentle as the antelope. He would talk to her biology teacher.  It wouldn’t do to have such a gifted student discouraged. 

CHAPTER 2
ANNOUNCEMENT OF PROPOSAL

In early February, Uncle Dodge went to visit Myrna at the Royal Academy.  He spoke with the headmaster and said that there was an emergency at the Chitundu household, and Myrna’s parents needed her at home. When the headmaster went to Wellington Taylor’s classroom to call her out, Myrna jumped up from her desk and gathered her papers, hurriedly following Uncle Dodge to the waiting taxi.
Something must be wrong
with my mother’s pregnancy
, she thought. Neither of them said a word to each other on the three hour drive back to Blancville. Myrna was convinced her mother was ill, and Dodge didn’t really want to answer any questions about taking her from the classroom.

When they got home Myrna’s mother was very direct.  She sent the men into another room.  Myrna could see the baby had dropped and her mother was ready to give birth at any time. 

“Myrna, we are very proud of you, as you have always put your family first.  You know that our brick business is difficult as people cannot afford to buy fired bricks or build right now. Your father and I have received a very good offer for you in marriage.  The expense we have gone to provide your education, is about to pay off.  We have the chance to see your brother married and you married to a man of means who is willing to care for you and aid your family. Festal is well established and is of our belief. We hear no bad reports of him and he is healthy.  Think over whether you are willing to be his wife and can be faithful to this man.”  Beatrice looked at her daughter’s figure and noted the increase in her waistline and her breasts.  She felt her own child kick and thought that Dodge could be right; this daughter could be pregnant.

Uncle Dodge waited with Bishop in the next room. Dodge had introduced his sister Beatrice to Bishop when she was fourteen, and the two young people had made an excellent marriage. Bishop, however, was not excited to see his own daughter marry at fourteen, especially to a man a year older than he was. He and Beatrice knew they could not afford to continue to send their daughter to the secondary school. Stephen, their oldest son, was desperate to marry his girlfriend Esther and needed to come up with the bride price before Esther was forced to marry a better financed suitor. Thomas needed money to continue his schooling. Uncle Dodge insisted that Myrna was the answer to their difficulties, she just needed their encouragement. He also indicated that the girl had shown Festal special favors over the Christmas holidays.  Bishop wanted to punch Dodge for that remark, but he remained quiet and waited for the women to make a decision. Then he would announce whether he was in support of the price the suitor had offered.  It was ten cows and a small parcel of land as well. A fortune. Bishop could not help but think  what it would mean to their family during this lean time.

Myrna looked at her mother in disbelief. Her words of praise had been the same as Dodge had used earlier.

“Are you asking me to give up my scholarship and my dream of becoming a doctor to marry a stranger who is older than my father?”

Beatrice said nothing. She dropped her hands below her bulging abdomen and bent her back slightly as if in pain. Her face was a mask of determination.

“What about Violet? She doesn’t want to go to school or to travel. She has always wanted to be married and not have to work in the market. Why don’t you marry her off?” Her mother’s face went taut, the lips pulled into a straight line. Myrna saw the pain this question caused her mother. Violet had always been her favorite after Eunice died. Maybe she blamed Myrna for her twin’s death.  They both had the dysentery, but Myrna recovered from it and her twin sister died.  Myrna set her face. She was silent while thoughts raced through her brain.

Festal was old.  How could her mother bring up the subject of the bride price for her brother while at the same time talking about Festal?  Her brother was twenty, marrying a girl his age, yet Myrna was expected to marry a man three times her age. In addition, the man lived far away from Blancville, so there would be few, if any, visits from friends or family.

Festal had never been to school.   She couldn’t imagine him being a good match for her. Then Myrna remembered that she was pregnant, and what alternative did she have? She could be the hero for the family, or the shame of the school. Both women stood facing each other in complete silence, then Myrna felt herself nodding her head up and down in submission.  She would marry Festal.   Her mother left the room immediately to give the news to her husband and Dodge that their daughter had accepted the offer and was ready to be married.

A month later the transaction was nearly complete.  The only thing left was the wedding. Cattle had been exchanged, along with the title to land in Copperfine, food and cloth, a sewing machine, and the enormous three-legged cooking pot that had been Beatrice’s wedding gift from her mother. When Myrna saw the pot being given to her, she cried, feeling that she was now bound to her mother by a history of submission and sacrifice. Like the pot, she would be useful, durable, and a legacy.

CHAPTER 3
THE WEDDING OF MYRNA AND FESTAL

Beatrice’s hands worked to help Myrna slide into the muslin wedding dress she had sewn for her with her new treadle machine. It was snug, especially across her breasts, but there was no mention of these changes. The young girl’s eyes were dazed. Her full head of hair was pulled back from her face with a braided coronet and curls hanging down on either side.

Beatrice recalled her own wedding day; she was also married at fourteen. Her brother Dodge had been desperate to raise the bride price for his own engagement, and had pressured her to marry Bishop. She had not attended school and her own dreams were gone— erased like Myrna’s dreams of being a doctor. Beatrice had wanted to become a seamstress and design dresses that would appear in catalogues. Instead, she became a wife and mother at fourteen.  Life had turned out all right for her. Bishop had been a kind husband. Now, after fourteen years of marriage, she could not imagine a life without him.

Beatrice saw how upset Violet was about the wedding. She stood beside her sister Myrna biting her lower lip to stop from breaking into tears, and frowning the entire time. Beatrice could not separate the girls, in spite of calling Violet several times to assist with different chores. Violet made it clear to everyone how she opposed the marriage and the dreams Myrna would be giving up. She was outspoken and was going to ruin everything.

“Violet, I need you to go to the market now and run the stall.  I have to keep working on this dress. Take the money box with you and pay attention to the bills. There are counterfeits being passed.” Beatrice handed Violet the moneybox and ignored the attitude of the girl. She knew this was no time to correct her manners; it was all the girl could do to avoid sobbing. She leaned over her treadle machine and studiously pedaled away, feeling the baby shoving against the fabric as she pulled it away from herself and pushed it under the needle. After twenty years of marriage, Beatrice was thirty four years old, and in spite of her age, she was a beautiful woman. She had produced seven live children, and was carrying her eighth. She knew her husband would rest easier when they had the money for the bride price, although neither of them discussed what a godsend it would be. She maintained herself in the community, and Festal would be some distance away, but she had heard no ill of him, and information traveled rapidly in this country of few newspapers and fewer radios. If Myrna had gone any further with her education, she would not be as eligible for a wife. She was pretty full of herself as it was. Beatrice stifled this thought and concentrated on her sewing. She could imagine how beautiful her daughter would be going down the aisle in her white dress and veil.
She takes after me when it comes to her features and her carriage. I never had her confidence though. She must have gained this from her schooling. She has always been a girl who speaks her mind.  We need to get this wedding completed as soon as possible. Babies don’t wait.

Violet knew her mother did not want her to talk to Myrna. She was angry about that as well as being angry with her sister for not telling her about this engagement. She was also angry at her mother for the part she played in all this drama, and angry at losing her best friend to adulthood. As for Festal, she reviled him for taking Myrna away, and Dodge for executing the plan. She called her uncle a predator, knowing that Myrna had not realized she was his next transaction. Violet refused to stay in the room if Dodge was present.

At the market, Violet dawdled, making her way slowly to the stall where her mother usually set up their mat ready to sell the vegetables. She wandered from row to row, making her way to the clothing section. A lacy bra hung on a rack, catching her eye. It looked expensive and when she looked, it was. But she had never owned one, nor did her mother. She pulled out the money she had been saving for the choir tour and bought it for her sister. It was a token of womanhood and romance such as she had seen in magazines at the beauty salon. She wanted her sister to know how much she loved her. She wrapped it in paper and put it in the hamper of clothing they were preparing for Myrna’s trousseau.

When Bishop hugged his daughter on her wedding day, Myrna noticed tears in his eyes.  Neither of them spoke a word about the arrangement. Myna knew her father had his regrets about not earning enough to keep his daughter from being given to the highest bidder; that Dodge had manipulated them into this union for his own profit, and that Bishop lost another child.

  Myrna wanted her father to know the pain she felt, the pain of leaving her dream of an education behind. She wanted him to see her sacrifice and say it wasn’t necessary, that she could stay with them.  Instead, she heard her father tell Festal that he knew he would value this woman, that he was welcome to come and stay with the family at any time.

Bishop wanted to hear that Festal loved his girl. He didn’t say how relieved he was that his daughter relented to marry Festal, saving her family from losing their business and position in the community. Now Beatrice could give birth to this next child in a hospital. There would be a second wedding with Stephen and Esther, and their younger son, Thomas, could continue his schooling.

Bishop walked his daughter slowly across the grass, leading to the small arch covered in bougainvillea.  The head pastor was away and an unfamiliar associate pastor filled in. Festal waited for Myrna and as she approached him, she saw him wipe his eyes with his handkerchief.  Then the pastor looked down at his notes and began the ceremony.

“Myra, do you take this man to be your husband?”

That is not even my name. I am not even here.

“I do.”

Myrna repeated the vows after him as she looked at Festal and how uncomfortable he was standing in front of the crowd of well-wishers. Sweat appeared on his forehead, and he flinched in his tight-fitting suit. The wool gabardine was too warm for a late February day.  Myrna allowed Festal to place the ring on her finger.  She did not have one for him. The pastor asked them to turn and face the crowd.

“Mr. and Mrs. Festal Phiri, I now pronounce you man and wife.”  Myrna could hear the Brahmin cow wailing in the distance and saw the tears well up in Violet’s eyes as the bouquet of red lilies was handed to Esther. Esther would now be able to marry Stephen. It was finished.

There were hugs all around. Many small gifts had been set on a table. Myrna didn’t recognize many of the people who came to congratulate her, but she kept hold of Festal’s hand. The photographer wanted them to stand under the bougainvillea arch, but Festal pulled Myrna over to the large baobab tree which was flowering. Festal leaned over her and whispered “The baobab is our family totem.” The photographer took a single black and white photo. He wanted to take more, but the couple was reluctant.   They were led by the pastor to the head table and took a few bites of the food heaped on their plates. Everything was rushed and yet time stood still. Myrna listened as Uncle Dodge proposed a toast to the newlyweds, and did not even look at him as she heard him describe the happy couple, and how generous Festal had been, and what a dutiful daughter Myrna was to her family. Dodge wished them a fruitful marriage, and many children to bless their home. It was a commercial for his matchmaking skills.
Painless pandering
. The guests raised their hands and ululated with the message.