By Oghenerukevwe Divine Ogede
Zubby was in his late thirties when he walked into the church. Depression was written all over his face. Reverend Father Benson was administering the sacrament of the Holy Eucharist that evening. He was engrossed with his Ave Maria when he noticed someone walk in. “Hail Mary, full of grace… Hail… Hail the Lord…” Reverend Benson prayed. He turned suddenly and saw a man lying by the altar. The priest walked up to him and noticed tears streaming down his face. The pious Father helped him up, made the sign of the cross in reverence to Christ’s dear mother, and enjoined him with words from the scripture to soothe his troubled soul. “Hail Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death,” he sang, then added, “In reverence to His mother Mary, confess your sins. Her ears are open to hear you. Remember Anna, who wept and prayed at the altar, and her desire was granted straight away. “Afterwards, the Reverend went to his office and returned with holy water.
He sprinkled it on Zubby while singing Alma Redemptoris Mater. Suddenly, Zubby’s voice broke into a shocking protest. “She must die! She must die! She must die!” Startled, Rev. Benson moved back and stood near the wall where the photographs of Pope Francis, Very Rev. Father Alejandro Moral Osa, and Jesus Christ were hung, as if seeking refuge. “Father, was it not said that the mat of shame is rolled up with belligerence? By God, I swear I shall lead my life in adultery and live happily with the devil in hell when I die. To hell with those who say a woman is a man’s joy and bliss. It is better to dine with a lion than to dine with a woman. ”Rev. Benson, who had served in the vineyard of the Lord for over fifteen years, had never witnessed such drama in his ministry.
He remained calm, though troubled, by the storm rising in the body of Christ. Zubby was clearly thirsting for blood, judging from his utterances. The priest wondered who had offended him—his wife? His betrothed? His parents? A neighbour? He soon had his answer when Zubby began lamenting. “Eric is lucky he fled with his family. If not, my machete would have been stained with their blood. I would have buried them in a shallow grave. The old beast must die. Woe betide him—the beast that feeds on his young ones. ”Hearing this, Rev. Benson hurried out as if pursued by an unseen menace, leaving Zubby alone. For the first time, Zubby contemplated suicide. He wept as memories overwhelmed him. When the priest returned, he urged Zubby to tell his story .Zubby began with his wife, Atlany.
She was always the centre of attention in a crowd—slim, tall, dark, and strikingly beautiful. Her long hair flowed down her back, and passersby could not help but steal furtive glances at her. Some, jealous of her beauty, would hurl insults, but she often retorted:“The ugly hag is never declared in the court of the beauty.”Her words often sparked quarrels.Atlany owned a beer parlour, where she earned money to support her husband. During the recession that ravaged the country, Zubby lost his job. The General Manager, neatly dressed in a black suit and bowtie, handed him his termination letter with a heavy heart.“Mr Zubby, please accept this with kindness. You have worked here for six years without fault. But you cannot continue in vain, without pay. Every worker is worthy of his wages. To avoid collapse, the company has decided to let some workers go. When the economy recovers, we may call you back.”Zubby pleaded, but the GM refused. He stormed out of the office, eyes bloodshot, weighed down by the thought of mouths to feed at home. His father, Bebekumo, was in his late fifties, grey-haired since his twenties, yet still agile and notorious for his lecherous lifestyle. Zubby’s mother had died years earlier, leaving three children behind. Though Zubby resembled his father in looks, his character was the opposite. At home, Atlany lamented low patronage in her bar. Zubby sympathised but silently felt emasculated. Since losing his job, he had been reduced to childcare while Atlany spent long hours in the bar, laughing and chatting with male customers.
He often wondered if their money was not also buying her affection. “She cannot be ensnared by them,” he told himself. “What if she is?” a voice within taunted. When he looked at her tear-filled eyes, she snapped: “Have you lost your mind? Why are you staring at me like some ancient statue? Think up something useful, and let us both proffer solutions. ”He swallowed his anger and let it go. Later that night, he whispered an idea to her—a suggestion to consult his father, who had a history with women’s businesses. Atlany readily agreed, swearing secrecy. But the next morning, she hurried out to meet Bebekumo. No words could describe the joy that seized Bebekumo when his daughter-in-law appeared at his door. His lust, long restrained, now had its prey. Despite Atlany’s protests— “This is against God and man; the ancestors will punish us”—her resistance crumbled. Their forbidden act ended with him handing her a maize cob. “Take five grains from it each morning before you go to the bar.
For every grain a hen eats, ten customers will come. When five grains are eaten, you will see the result.”Atlany, thrilled, followed the instruction. Her bar flourished, her children—Phebian, Jovita, and Timi—grew plump, and she even hired a salesgirl. Zubby, grateful for the turnaround, praised both his wife and his father for their roles in sustaining the family.But Atlany’s gratitude to Bebekumo went beyond words. She visited him with gifts, and their affair continued. It was during one such visit that Zubby arrived unexpectedly. Finding them together, he was struck with rage but, instead of violence, walked away in silence, broken. A family meeting was convened. Bebekumo was reprimanded and instructed to sacrifice a goat to appease the ancestors. Then an elder suggested a DNA test. Atlany, alarmed, protested. Pressed further, she confessed:“Phebian is Zubby’s son.
But Jovita belongs to Bebekumo, and Timi to Eric.”The revelation shattered the gathering. Zubby’s voice trembled as he concluded his tale before Rev. Benson.“Father, I broke away from the meeting before I became a murderer. I just needed someone to unburden myself to. ”What about the children?” the priest asked. “Only Phebian, she claims, is mine. But I will not believe until a DNA test proves it. Imagine, Father, how little Timi wept after me, calling me ‘father’, while he was whisked away.
Poverty is indeed a glass through which a man sees the true heart of a woman. Until my heart stops beating, I will never forgive her. ”The priest sighed. “Your wife has indeed defiled herself. Marriage is a great sacrament. Infidelity destroys it. Yet, you must forgive, for Christ commands it. You chose the path of peace by coming here instead of violence. Bravo! You are a true hero. “Leave judgement to God. Forgive your wife, your neighbour, and even your father. God created Judas for a purpose; so too, perhaps, your father. Remember: one who enjoys others’ misery will one day be consumed by his own.“Take the grain and let go of the chaff. Peace be with you. May Mother Mary bless you.”By the time the priest finished, Zubby was in tears. That evening, he walked back home, burdened yet consoled.
Background of the author
The author Oghenerukevwe Divine Ogede, lectures in Western Delta University, Oghara Delta State. He is a member of Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA) Delta State Chapter. Many of his works have been published works. Among them – a short story: “A Drop of Mercy“, Nesting On The Rocks: An Anthology Volume 1, New Series published in 2023 by the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA) Plateau State chapter. His novels are: Unwanted Shadow by Boox and Bransador Limited (2021); Festering Wounds by Kraft (2022); Orgy In The Garden by Boox and Bransador (2024). His poems are: “Too Many Radios Are On” (2024) and “Deltans Cried For Joy” (2011). Phone number: 08062551183, Whats app number: 09153565375 Email address: ogededivine88@yahoo.com.