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The Tale Of A Threatened Woman

When she thinks you are out to steal her man

BY Amma Mensah

Jul 29, 2021, 12:00 PM

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There is a lady who looks at me with sharp, piercing evil eyes. She hates me with passion and I know she keeps wishing I would fall off the stairs, break my legs and ruin my face. Well, her boyfriend, my next-door neighbor, Kevo is the reason behind her resentment.

I have always been kind to that woman, throwing some hellos and his her way, but she hardly replies. Sometimes I see her lips move, but no sound escapes her mouth. Her stares scare the life out of me. You’d think I killed her family and burned her village down. She is iceberg cold.

Her boyfriend is not the normal Kevo you know. This one was born with humility, honesty, and kindness by his side. He was also born with something that shocked the doctors. The lump on his neck was said to contain high levels of gentleness and love. “This one can never be a womanizer.” one of the doctors said. You’d think her girlfriend trusts him but she and insecure are joined at the hip.

Last week, I met them at Mama Ashley’s shop, and being the friendly neighbor I am, I stretched out my little hand to greet them, but like a bodyguard who had sensed some danger, she quickly stood in front of Kevo. Abort mission, my mind said. Roger that, my body responded. So, I smiled and walked away as embarrassment followed closely behind.

I have no idea why she thinks I’m a threat to her or their relationship. As a Christian, I love Kevo with the brotherly love that Jesus commanded us to. Amen? Uhmm… I think I have an idea why. Kevo and I did something back then. I’m not sure whether it was right, but it was just a one-time thing. We shared one big plate of laughter. I still have some leftovers. I don’t remember what was so funny, but I was laughing out of control. Kevo was quite composed. And since I laugh as I hit people, I kept hitting Kevo’s arms, giggling. From the moment she saw us laugh, I could tell that she wanted to strangle me.

Since then, she perfected the art of giving me the evil leer. Sometimes, smoke comes out of her ears when she sees me. And before she charges at me, I run. I’m not safe with Kevo’s girl around. I vowed not to let her stares bother me, but now I see her piercing, red evil eyes in my dreams. This has forced me to sleep with a bible and a cross under my pillow. And when I see her stares forming in the dark, I recite everything from the Lord’s Prayer to the Apostles Creed.

I think she will ask thugs to behead me then use my head as some sort of art on her wall. She might even have me bewitched and the next thing I know, I’m speaking Mandarin in the streets, collecting rubbish and running after children and dogs. Kevo doesn’t think she is capable of doing that. I think she is. These quiet people can surprise you. Nowadays I close my windows because at this rate she might throw a grenade in my house. If something ever happens to me, make sure DCI reads this.

Yesterday, as I went to buy supper, I found them hanging clothes together. She handed him the pegs as he hung the clothes. My heart skipped a beat. I thought I was watching a Telenovela. Wow, if that’s what love does, then I think I should try it. When she caught me staring, she looked at me like a poor, filthy, homeless person who had not taken a shower for six months. I felt like stretch marks on Beyoncé’s body. 

I don’t know if she tries to make me jealous, but in the evening, I usually hear her call Kevo bae, from the furthest corner in my room. It’s like she has a boom box in her throat. And her laughter makes my windows tremble. Na ni ile kicheko ya kujiforce. It’s like she is trying to prove a point. That she is happy, that he is happy, that they are happy. I don’t know. She also goes to the shop with him, afraid he might find a girl on offer and buy her.

I don’t know what her name is but I guess it's Veronica, Belta, or Zipporah. So, listen up Zipporah, I don’t care whether your big eyes can drag the moon out of orbit, but stop giving me those evil stares. I can hardly sleep well at night. Even when I’m reading a book, your image comes in between the pages. Surely, did Jesus die for this?

I’d rather live in distress because of rats, singlehood, and bills than live in distress because of you. I don’t care whether you’re Goliath’s sister, but next time you give me that look, I will find you (in the house next door of course) and I will punch the evil glare out of those eyes. The only thing you will be left seeing is defeat. Conjestina and Fatuma Zarika have got nothing on me. So bring it on Zipporah, 1853. This means war.