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 20 YEARS DEAD MARRIAGE

20 Years Dead Marriage

Written By Choolwe J. Mwiinga

Published by aoxbooks
2024

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 Table of Contents
Preface ...........................................................................v
.................................................. 1
Tears Till Down ........................................................... 9
20 Years Broken ........................................................ 18
About The Author ..................................................... 18

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 20 YEARS DEAD MARRIAGE

The book carries a disclaimer about the characters bearing no relation to

living persons. The language used in here is just for entertainment.

Copyright © 2024 Choolwe J. Mwiinga

All Rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner
without prior permission from of the copyright owner, except for the brief quotation in a
book review.

To request permissions, contact the publisher at [email protected]

Ebook: 978-0-13-467332-9

Edited by Avox Publishers

Cover art by Aoxdesigns
Layout by Aoxdesigns
Distributed by Teammates (brand)
Online publisher: Avox, with Utushimi Publishers

www.aoxbooks.com with www.utushimi.com

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 Preface
Samita narrates a transfixing story of her life, love
and marriage. She unfolds her enigmatic past, with
life not being as others live and love betraying her
feelings. A sporadic experience sees Samita having
a marriage recess after she fell in love with her best
friend’s boyfriend.

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20 YEARS DEAD MARRIAGE

Enjoy Teammates

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 It is true, “each thing goes away and nothing in the end is lost
when it returns.” The great friend throws away all things apart
and actually begets all together again. That is how all living
things come back after long absences. Life is precious, so is
marriage! All the reunified sound-like falsehood stories you hear
about marriages are true. Like any other mine is divergent and it
is a fairy tale on its own. Believe me when I say a fairy tale: I got
married with my first husband in 1956. But, I guess that does
matter right now because things that happened were beyond
imaginations. Here is my full story!
During my girly life, I was very beautiful – exquisitely. So
even if you ask about men who were engrossed to me, my
blacked description will surely depict everything. I hope you
understand.
One day, my mother sent me to a shop. I don’t still remember
what she sent me to buy, but I am pretty sure she wanted
something. That was for her personal interest anyways.
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 20 YEARS DEAD MARRIAGE

I was born from a family which kept amounts of cattle, and

goats wouldn’t be counted if anyone intended to tally them.
Chickens were a lot around our farm – really innumerable. I
don’t want to elucidate my family vanity, so I can put the topic
to closure now.
It was around fourteen O’clock when mum sent me for a
single shopping. Those days, cleanliness was my afternoon duty.
So before I went to the shops, I made sure to take a deep bath. It
was always my first option to look fresh and clean before I went
somewhere. I was growing older and marriage could catch my
age soon. Men from that hamlet could marry anyone but it was
just my decision to smell nice around the people of Shimatele.
I applied lotion after bathing. Zora lotion was for my better
days, and Vaseline was for my other days — when I was just
home.
I left home, walked-alone-through the path of giant and tall
trees. Not even a dog escorted me that day. That was not a big
deal though, because I used to like talking to myself. I reached
at the shops locale in the next forty-five minutes. Fortunately, I
found other girls who had gone for shopping. They too lived in
Shimatele. The shops were in a different village — Habusiye,
just a few kilometres from ours. Habusiye village had shops
aligned together at one place. Sometimes we used to call the
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village Town Centre because of services they were providing.
By the way, that was not a town.
We gossiped with the girls for a quite a long period of time.
And lately we realised time was not in our hands. The sun
became orange and was starting to hide in the tropical trees at the
oceans. We shopped in quick minutes and headed home as soon
as we finished with our little shopping.
Soon or later, we reached through the tallest buildings of the
village. At least then I was talking to people rather than talking
to myself on lone days, which I used to! We were four girls, there
was me, Samita, and: Enalia, Lisa and Liseli. As we walked
through the tall trees, came four boys — from nowhere they
came out of the tall-bushed foliaged, rather scary trees.
We didn’t know them; if at all they knew us, then that was
their own exertion.
“Hey girls, can we talk with you for few minutes please!”
One of the boys begged for our attention. We looked at those
boys without blinking, only eyes kept talking for a while.
“Only for few seconds! You say!” Our spokesperson, Enalia
responded.
“What are your names?” A new boy posed.
“Is that it?” Liseli looked at the person who asked.
“We would say, yes.” A new boy expressed.
“It’s getting late. And if you would tell us the reason why
we’re standing here would be better...” Lisa said.

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“Your names are also important to us.” The last of the four
boys looked at us.
“It’s okay, boys. We will tell you our names.” I uttered.
We told them our names, they also told us theirs. There
was Jeff, Erick, Gerald and Mark. In no time were in pairs. I
found myself with Mark.
“You have a nice name.” Mark looked at me, he smiled.
“Thank you!” Only shyness showed on my face when I
replied. By then l was staring at the plastic I was holding.
“Where do you live?” He asked, “I just see you around
when you come at the shops.”
“I just live within the villages. It’s just that our homes are
located at the end of the boundary.” I looked as if our homes
were near.
“I like you.” Mark immediately changed the topic and
faced to other things. “You’re the beauty I admire.” starred at
me as my eyes glanced at him.
“Thank you!” I never wanted to say a long sentence. So, I
just uttered two reasonable words.
“You look shy; am I fierce?” He then asked an open
question.
“No, not at all. It’s just that I don’t feel comfortable with
strangers.” I replied.
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 “I am a person like you; it’s just that we have only met
for the first time.” We stopped walking as others, “I have
something to tell you.”
“Samita! Let’s go home!” Before I could respond to Mark,
Enalia’s voice vibrated into my eardrums.
“We will meet some other days if you want to tell me
something. For now let’s keep our conversation a catch up.”
I replied to him and started walking.
“Where…? How…?” He left sentences hanging when
Enalia dragged my hand. I did not answer any single word
back to him after; if in any way I provoked him by not
answering him back, I did not think of that because the girls
mixed chats as we walked away from the boys.
The other girls, Lisa and Liseli departed from us and went
to their homes. Enalia was my neighbour, just few miles
separated our homes. Thence, we walked to the same
direction. We were both of the same age, fourteen at that
time. Unfortunately we stopped schooling at our single ages.
We only used to do house chores, and sometimes we went to
the fields. Enalia was my best friend; she was very beautiful
and there no more words to describe her. I liked her so much
though she used to slide her tongue sometimes. But the same
tongue used to defend me from the bad boys of the villages.
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As days went on, the same boys, we met used to come to

our village and peeped through the bushes just to get our
attention when we passed. Sometimes they would come and
chill near our places so we could notice them. Attention tricks
after attention tricks until one afternoon they trapped us at the
hand pump. We had no guts of making excuses, so we
accepted that they trapped us.
Mark that day told me what he wanted to tell me on the
first day we met. It was about, love. It was the first love
proposal, so responding was bit challenging. I didn’t know
what to say honestly. I looked like a fool in front of him when
my mouth kept closed. Love was just a single word to me.
My mother used to encourage me that one day, at the right
age, I would find a person whom later would be my husband.
I kept on waiting for the right age, sixteen, which they
referred the right age to get married – those were views of
grandpas of back days anyways.
“Does your silent mean yes, or a doubting no?” As I gazed
on what to say, I heard Mark’s voice. From there, I asked why
he loved me. He did say convincing words but then that was
just wastage of time because deep down in my heart I was
thinking of something else. It was when we were about to
depart when I finalised my words. Eish! What a frisky day it
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was! Of course I did not give him the answers – yes or no –
just yet; I promised for another day. Indubitably, I did not tell
my mother or dad or any of the family members, be my
siblings, about anything that happened. That was just a slight
issue anyways. After all, it was not a marriage proposal. I
wasn’t being secretive, but that was not a big thing to involve
the family elders anyways.
After three weeks from the day Mark proposed to me,
Enalia came home and requested me to escort her somewhere
she was being sent, to the other village which was just located
on the right side of our village. We walked about a kilometre,
then lately did we see two boys seated in front of us. We
would have side passed them, if only we saw them earlier – a
bush way would have worked. Mark and Gerald trapped our
way. We wanted to pass them without saying a word. They
greeted us. And asked if they would go along with us. Enalia
and I tried to refuse but they were sharp enough to convince
us. We started walking together. We shared mutual words and
laughed as the boys were telling us stories. Wherever they
used to find those stories, they were interesting mweh. At one
moment things malformed when Mark changed a topic to his
love stories. He asked me overtly such that I felt pit to
embarrass him by saying no. So I just did him a favour by
accepting his love proposal, just to keep shame off his friend.
Stories after stories continued until we reached where we

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 20 YEARS DEAD MARRIAGE

were going. We delivered what Enalia was sent for and

concentrated way back home. The boys departed from us
after we reached near our homes. Hectic, that was a worse
day ever! How would I ever allow a man to be with me in my
beautifully singled life!? I scanned my senses during bedtime
and waited to reverie syrupy delusions.

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 Chapter 2:
Tears Till Down

As days went, Mark used to come to near my area and

trapped me when he had a chance of seeing me anywhere
around. Because of loneliness his friend, Gerald, used to feel
when they used to come to see me, he also, chancily, felt in
love with Enalia so that they would balance up things, rather
than the other one just seated when we – me and Erick – were
chatting. So, you would even understand the logic because
that was a double-pair relationship. Zero love started
developing into million feelings until Mark started planning
of marrying me. I was still fourteen years old. Marriage
noises after marriage issues. But, I used to refuse to his
marriage request-proposal. At one time he decided to tell my
parents but I made known that, if at all he told my parents,
then I would have hated him for the rest of my life for not
trying to understand my views. He backed and shut down the
marriage issue he used to sing every time he met me. We
concentrated on our young love story and later I promised
that I would marry him only after I was in the range of, or

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above sixteen years old. He understood me and we continued

a way forward together.
A bubonic plague and infrequent incident happened a year
later. Not only was I growing up but I was also learning new
things each and every day that passed. On Friday, as usual
mum prepared sweet beer, which was locally known as
traditional beer or somewhat Chibwantu. She sent me to buy
sugar to add in it. We used to drink the traditional beer every
Saturday, before and after attending the church.
It was more sweet and nice with sugar in it. I never refused
when the elders of the family, or of the village, sent me
something. Especially if it was at the shops because I knew
that was the only leisure time I had. But when it came to my
elder siblings, I used to accept only if it was for an exchange.
A coin for a send. Simple!
As usual, I went to Enalia so that she could escort me to
the shops. She never hesitated to refusing to such free granted
walks. We started off to the shops after her ordinary make
ups.
Enalia and I reached at the shops and waited for the sun
to drop down for as to start going back home. It was almost
dark — early birds were already singing bed times songs.

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After walking about good miles away from the market, we
heard low voices chatting near the road, in the bush. Enalia
was a gossipy girl, such that she dragged me to peep on
people who were talking at that late time of the noon. My
tears started dropping; eyes couldn’t believe what they saw.
Deep feelings vibrated through all my blood vessels until they
turned to low attractions. What I saw was unbelievable and
nerve-burden, but authentic and odd in my life ever before. I
caught Mark with a girl, right with my two bare and white
reflected eyes. I wanted to shout out but Enalia was fast and
sharp enough to hold my fist mouth. I backed off my words,
looked down, and turned around, then started walking home.
I didn’t how I reached home till now, but I just found myself
on the bed the following day. Life and love, undescribed!
That Saturday I didn’t even go to church. Emotions
trauma is real. Life was useless anymore; love separated the
union of my heart. How unfair was life worth to be lived?
Only women of steel would survive the mood I was in, but, I
wasn’t one of them because I never even ate breakfast that
day. I was only fifteen, yet deep feelings were more than my
age.
Everyone went to church, I was the only one who
remained at home. I slept two hours after everyone left, and

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then I decided to seat outside the house. As I was seated,

meanwhile gazing at dogs that were panting whilst the cows
were crying, making their mooing language, I saw Enalia
with her lazy step roaring into our farm. She also found
herself a seat and sat when she approached where I was
seated. We greeted each other, then concentrated on what was
currently happening as we continued chatting. I told Enalia
how I wanted my life to have been, but, instead in return she
encouraged to continue dating with Mark. With what I saw,
in fact no one told me but the real fact was seen, I never even
wanted to hear his voice or neither did I ever want to see him
near me ever again. But then, Enalia was convincible enough
to be his spokesperson. She stopped defending him until I
agreed to her reunion suggestions. At least that moment,
hotchpotch feelings were cooled down to zero affiliations.
What remained was only to black-judge Mark because he
never knew that I caught him red-handed. Though I was not
good at judging people, standing tall for my life was is a
person responsibility. No one will stand for your life. I was
preparing for the battle I have never fought before, yelling at
someone.

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 After nattering on how we would judge Mark, Enalia and
I started gossiping about her love story. It was still perfect
though. Moreover, Gerald was kind of a quiet guy; very
handsome, and attractive. Unlike Mark, Gerald was kind of
the guy who took things low, he was not ear-splitting than
Mark who would climb a tree just to sing his favourite village
song.
Later in the evening, mum called me and asked me what
was wrong with me. My mother used to trust me, so lying to
her was just another notion. I narrated everything to her. I
never wanted to leave a single diminutive scrutiny of any lie
of what happened the previous evening. I also told her even
the whole story of what was hidden in the corners. You know,
no mother would allow their children to get into young
relationships, especially with older men. Same as mum, she
encouraged me to stop dating, describing that young
relationships would just destroy my future marriage,
promising that a right man would come at the right time,
moreover, at the right age. But, how was supposed to meet
that person if I didn’t involve myself in any relationship?
Worst notions, right? My mother told me challenges she
faced with dad before they aged. From the stories mum
narrated, I started figuring out that there were lots of secrets

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in marriages: others fight at night yet during the day are best
couples; some even quarrel on simple matters when they
alone yet tend to give best marriage moments when they’re
with others. That is how life is anyways! The best couple in
the world is the one that has guts of quarrelling even in public
yet they can still manage to live happily when no one is
around them.
The following day my mother was washing. My mother
only used to wash in rare times. And when she did it was for
the whole family. Hereinafter, girls started fetching water for
her. We fetched water for about five times, then Enalia
showed up at our place. The other girls helped mum washing,
Enalia and I went to fetch water as it was the last round. We
went to the hand pump, then sat and started chatting when we
arrived. We had endless conversations, and every time we
met, we had different topics to gossip about. From eight
O’clock, it was then eleven, still stories never got finished —
funny moments kept us smiling and laughing until it was
twelve P.M. Thence after, we decided to go home. We started
going home and found, Gerald and Mark waiting for us. We
did not want to waste much of the time standing with them
because we already spent much of the time at the hand pump.

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Wherefore, we just told them to utter only of their short
sentences as we were in hurry. They made use of their short
given time, but in response they requested if we had a chance
in the afternoon, to see them. We accepted on the condition
that we would only see them if we had a chance. Otherwise,
we would not!
The day went so fast and in no time it was already fifteen
O’clock. And that same hour, Enalia came home. We found
a better excuse and sneaked out an hour later. We went to the
location they had told us. We found Mark and Gerald were
already there when we reached. Then greeted each other.
Mark and I started chatting the moment we departed from
Enalia and Gerald. One chapter after the other until it was an
hour later. We started going home. Gerald and Mark escorted
us. As Mark was about to go home, I asked him about the
lady he was with on Friday evening. To my disbelief surprise,
he insisted that he was not with any lady the very day,
extending to say he was at home the moment I saw someone
like him. I did not want to spend time on bare truth which he
was nakedly denying. I kept that in my heart and went home.
As days went on, we continued with our relationship.
Days faded, nights passed; trees grew older, taller and
stronger; life was actually interesting with Mark’s romantic

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ways. In those romantic days, Enalia came to our farm so we

would go and visit Gerald. We started off an hour after she
came.
Another event, bigger than the first one happened on the
way, that was after we walked about a kilometre away from
home. Tears rolled down as I caught Mark for the second time
with another girl – not with the one I caught him the first time.
That time, it was more than the first time because I found him
kissing the girl. What happens behind closed doors we don’t
know nor see it! As we walked closer, Mark observed us and
stopped kissing the girl, it was my first time seeing her. I
never talked to him, nor did Enalia uttered a word. And when
Mark realised that we had not said anything, he ran calling
after my name. Thenceforth, Mark started apologising about
what he just did, defending himself that it only happened once
and it would never happen again. It was worth for me to give
a proper reason for a break up because this time he saw that I
caught him red-handed. He tried his level best to give me
consummated reasons, but I never wanted to be with him ever
again. And that was my ultimate decision. Enalia and I started
walking after I retorted better words to him. I even told him

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that I never wanted to see him ever anywhere near me or
around me, not even a single glance.
We visited Gerald’s place and told him about everything
what had happened on the way. Like I said, Gerald was kind
of a low guy, so he did not say much on the topic, only did he
encourage me that ‘one day I would find someone better and
worth to be my boyfriend’. It was since that incident such that
I never even wanted to be with any kind of man. For better or
worse, I did not know how I was to find a husband! That day
was over, in fact, there was no more Mark in my life, no more
love things, and perhaps no more sneaking out chances.
Better chances were only for escorting Enalia to see her
beloved Gerald.

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 Chapter 3:
20 Years Broken
As days developed into weeks, weeks into months,
unfortunately Enalia was taken by his Uncle to live with him
in the urban. It was an urgent journey such that she never even
said goodbye to anyone, not even to me or his boyfriend. I
had no phone, or any advanced form of communication, so
we never had a chance of talking to each other anymore, not
even a single second kept our lives connected. Gerald used to
come to our place to know if Enalia had called or any new
update, but he only used to find old stories. All moments they
spent together were merely fade moments. As Gerald
continued visiting our place, my parents got a chance to
know him; sometimes he would even help the boys to do
home works. Occasionally, he would spend the whole day at
our place and only went to his parents’ home in the evening.
As he kept coming to our place, he started falling for me, and
promised to love me the following year if Enalia had not
shown up.
A year followed without Enalia showing up, so, Gerald
directly proposed marriage to me. I accepted his marriage
proposal until we were finally ready to get married, that was
in 1956. On July, the same year, Gerald’s parents visited our
farm and discussed marriage proposal with my parents and

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other elders of the family. Marriage issues went on so well
such that they even granted a day for our marital ceremony. I
patiently waited for that day.
On September 18th, the same year (1956), marital
ceremonies were organised and practised the same day. In the
afternoon, I was legally announced as Mrs. Masanga. After
all the ceremonies, family lane introductions and other things,
I was taken to Gerald to be living with him. He was still
staying in his parents’ farm though. The same year, in
October, I got pregnant and started expecting our child. I was
expecting a girl, but even a boy would be fine too.
Our marriage went so well, my pregnancy was developing
on the other side. Our marriage was still young, which meant
everything to be moving as expected. Everyday my husband
used to tell me stories, sometimes we would go to catch fish
at the dam. Some other times we would not do away with dust
just to walk unknown journeys.
When I was about to deliver, my husband found a better
place for us to settle in, which we moved in after I delivered
our first child. People welcomed us to that new place; mostly
did they welcome our new-to-the-family baby-boy with
wishes and gifts. I was so humbled such that I even found
cool neighbours who could help us in most of things we were
deficient in our daily living. My life was growing up so

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perfectly with the best husband besides me. Days grew older
and older; two years later, I was pregnant for another child.
And when I delivered, it was actually a baby boy again. The
family was advancing little by little. We built a new and big
house three years later — after having our second child).
Years later delivered another child, a girl then.
From months, it was then years as our marriage was still
with the children resembling our genes. From zero years in
marriage, it was then thirty-nine years. Our family grew
bigger. We had eight children, the least with three years of
age. Our top three children were already working in
government and some were doing small businesses. My
husband and I never lacked anything because financial and
other needs our children provided for us. Our house was such
an eye-catching one and appealing at looking it was more of
an urban located one. Our children also provided other
machines, like mealie meal grinder, so that we could be
earning something in our daily living. We were always happy
and everyone in the village regarded us the best family of the
villages.
A year crewed up like a dream as we entered and
celebrated our fortieth (40th) anniversary of our marriage. I
was aging, too my husband was. Our marriage was also
growing. Black hair started turning white on my head. Life

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was always interesting and worth living, I was spending
perfect days of my life. But as I was developing into a great
grandparent, things started declining by degrees: my husband
sadly started turn-coating. I did not know what he was up to,
but, things were not as usual as they were back in days. He
started coming home around really late; conversely, he used
to come before the dark. I tried asking him what was wrong,
but sometimes he could not even answer me. He was not
addicted to drinking any kind of beer; if he did then I did not
know anything about it because he used to come home sober.
I tried to ask myself what he was up to, in the end there were
no convincing reasons. As I continued asking what was
certainly going on in our marriage, unfortunately, one day he
slapped me hardily, which led me to fall to the ground (that
was the first slap I ever received from any person in my life,
not even my parents ever slapped me when I was still living
with them). Things continued turning over and over in my
life. Every day things were getting shoddier. Better notions
became worst decisions. As I was trying to solve things by
myself, regrettably they turned worse, even more. By late
October, my husband left home and went to live somewhere.
Wherever he went was where I did not know because he
never told me about anything. I tried to figure out what was
happening but lately did I found out that he was married

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 20 YEARS DEAD MARRIAGE

somewhere. I tried my level best to ask him to come back

home, so he would stay with his family. To me, it did not
matter whether he married another wife or not. Sometimes he
did not answer my calls. His parents also tried to induce him
over the phone but what they encouraged him were just mare
words. Our children on the other side, tried hard to comfort
me, hoping their father would come back on a better day, but
then their father never even wanted to land a step at his own
home.
Ten years after, still he was not yet back. I continued being
a widow whilst my husband was still alive. My tears became
solid such that I even stopped thinking about him. I was worth
being alone because all the two men I had ever been in love
before tended to have had their own parallel ways. I
continued living single-handedly, besides with some of my
children. Others, sometimes would come to visit us just to
know how we were riding on. I thank my children because
they were the best mentors whilst their dad was away.
Children are great friends and that’s the reason why we
should always support them. I stopped calling him because
he was not worth to be called anymore. Single men and
married husbands of our village started proposing marriage
to me. But, I did not insist to accept their proposal because I
was enough to be alone in my life. With my children by my

22 | 2 0 Y D M
side, life was never a regret. Total concentration was valuable
just to my family. I was single whilst married; a widower
whilst my husband was still alive. But all did not wreck any
of my single feelings because I was confident enough to
move on whilst experiencing lamented life. Years passed! My
body started feeling lazy to walk to distant places. My
womanish era was developing old each and every day I spent
alone, yet I was single-married because we didn’t sign any
marriage cessation. It was then 20 years after he left his own
home, small plants he sowed were then fully grown-up and
fruitful. Why would men be so mean? Passion and love, two
different things.
One day, in the afternoon, if I can summon up perfectly it
was on Friday, 2016, I was seated outside, on figuring out the
schedule for the next day. As I glimpsed ahead me,
surprisingly, I saw a figure of shadows coming towards my
yard. I tried to fix my eyes so that I could see things properly.
Unfortunately, my old age status did not allow me to see far-
things. I never forced myself because I knew that, whoever
that was, they would actually approach my yard. As I
continued doing what I was doing, immediately I heard a
whelming voice: “Samita, please forgive me.” Tears bounced
on my face and vocals vibrated into my eardrums after I heard
humble appreciations. When I looked behind to see who

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made a masked sentence, yet strange apologies, I saw a gone-

come profile, my husband.
Undescribed, heart-rending, tear-jerking, and tears
tumbling, my past husband’s appearance was new – yet old.
He looked so different, diametrically opposed: his clothes
were torn away; I saw his mouth begging for food; his facial
appearance was totally irreconcilable. Gush! He really looked
ugly! That was my first time seeing him like that, there were
eruptions (skin complaints) all over his face – pimples and
rashes in other words. I saw him walking barefoot yet the sun
was really hitting the ground. As I stood from the bench, he
knelt down and started apologising. Tranquillity kept my
body standing tall. Sorry after sorry, hymn after verse, until I
talked. Whatever words I uttered first, I don’t remember, but
they were brutal sound-like and were not placid at all. All of
sudden, my children surrounded me and started giving me
better advices. I cooled down from retorting and started
talking slowly. Fortunately, he was luck only because wise
and better words floated through my gullet when I voiced for
the second time.
Moments later, we moved from under the tree and went to
seat at the veranda. We talked and discussed until I was
heartfelt enough to forgive him. The story he plotted touched
the apex of my heart. He never felt embraced to narrate the

24 | 2 0 Y D M
whole story though some of his children were around.
Neighbours came and glanced at what was happening. Some
came to collect genuine information, and others came to
generate lies. Whatever was behind his dismissal was only
his approval, but in his articulations he rated: after we got
married, his friends started twisting his brain that town life
was better than the village one. His heart rose up and started
having interest in the way they were advertising it. My
husband then started communicating to one of the ladies who
lived in one of the municipalities that were near, and
promised to give him the house to be staying once he went to
the civic. From the narration, he got that lady’s line from the
same friends who pushed him to that way of ‘so called’
advanced life. After being satisfied in the way they used to
communicate, he then decided to move into town. Secretry.
Without telling his family about anything, just like he did.
Not even his marital wife knew anything about everything: I
was blindfolded just because he decided to keep secret lies in
his heart. And decided to leave his only home for girlfriends;
whatever shapes of their body was, or how beautiful they
looked, or even how sweet their tongues were to charm
married men. In addition, after he left home, in town he
started flecking out in-to bars and nightclubs as he met his
girlfriends. Party after party on each day he spent with his

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girlfriends until things started changing when they all started

distancing from him, yet advancing to other places. He had
no direction of going after everyone was completely gone. He
did not want to come back home, to his own home because
he thought things would not be unproblematic. As he
continued living in the streets whilst his children had
beautiful mansions, all still highly alive, his life started
changing little by little; worse to worsier, and unquestionably
to indescribable. Thence after, he started developing unusual
spots and pimples inflammations and acnes on his face and in
some other parts of his body. After pain increased, meanwhile
all his clothes were torn apart and his shoes got washed up –
really wrecked and damaged, he then, as the last option,
decided to come back to the home he abandoned for so many
good countable (20) years – two decades, just to stay with
side chicks meanwhile they were planting different kinds of
diseases in his blood vessels. His journey of coming back
home took five days because he walked by foot all way long
from the town.
Few hours later after he came back home, we organised a
car and quickly went to the urban clinic where doctors found
many toxic diseases in him. Among, there was HIV (Human
Immune Virus), and other Sexual Transmitted Diseases,
STIs. Restore-to-health diseases were alleviated; daily pill-

26 | 2 0 Y D M
taking pills were given to him. Thank goodness he would
have been dead by now, only that he was not affected with
Corona Virus because he used to touch many people in night
clubs he went. We took him home the moment he was signed
out of the hospital.
Little years have now passed from the time he came back
home. We are still nursing him to promote his health. From
the time my husband came back home, we have immovably
fixed our old lanes and we are trying best ways to comfort
and quieten each other. It is four years now from the time he
came back home. Above all, when we have now settled and
forgotten everything (everything that happened in 20 years is
vanished and will never be graved out, till forever stories).
And everything, just like old days, is just moving grateful as
we spend non-regret moments together. This year, 2020, we
celebrate the fourth year of our 20-Years-Dead-Marriage
reunion. Our lives are not old or new, neither is our love! We
just live the same way we did before we had our first child.
And love each other the same way we did before we had our
first son. That was just a fairy-tale story I spent lone in 20
years, now I have a legend story to be proudly telling and
edifying to young marriages that aims to grow till to their
destiny when unknown eras separates them. My fairy tale to

27
 20 YEARS DEAD MARRIAGE

legend story now opens 80s living under a get-together

marriage.
Married women (wives) don’t worry about who is gone.
If they cares, really cares, when they are gone they will come
back on better days. Just concentrate on your life, and or, on
the children you are left alone with. Be yourself, take things
low, never look back on sad memories, rather concentrate on
beautiful memories you both shared when he was still around.
Life is hard only if you think, and expect a lot. Always try to
make things low, because if you run fast, you may end up
crush and worsen things. Your marriage is only a blessing if
you live happily together, but then, even often, it is a deep
expression if you try to understand each other on dark days.
Moreover, on dark days do better things whilst on bright days
make sure you highly forecast on best things. Just understand
that, ladies and single wives are many, and if you try to be
over-voice to your husband, he will be pushed to go to them,
only because of your hush feelings and expressions. Men are
best if you try to understand them, don’t pretend to show love,
or real feelings; patend and everything will move in a straight
line as always. If your husband tries to go-side-way, try to
solve things own your own, discuss serious matters (even if I
was unable to do so, your word, as a wife, is a message to
your husband), know his weaknesses and you will know

28 | 2 0 Y D M
where to solve things directly and correctly. You husband
may be gone for five years, never give up on your marriage,
even ten years is worth to stay single whilst you are married.
Predators are there; preys glance on every corner to attack
you and to shake your marriage when you befall to be weak.
Be tolerant, smile a lot, don't keep secrets, remember why you
married him and don't be scared to admit when you are
wrong. Be a good wife; back him up in public even if you
wrangle in private. Marriage has never failed, especially if
you truly love each other trustworthily.
Husbands, beautiful ladies are all around the world,
especially married women; terrifically, single ladies. Don’t
far-take things any further in-to, your final feelings should
end before that limit exceeds. You can have many girlfriends
as much as you want before you get married for proper wife
material selection – even though that is not worth because one
girlfriend is worth to be with, besides, more beautiful than
many; more to the point, you will just acquire diseases trying
to have many girlfriends before you meet your wife, and just
be a wastage profile, yet deadly walking, when you get
married. Thence after, when you get married, respect your
wife as much as you can. Get to know that wifes are more
beautiful than wives, but if you look toward who is in front
of you, you will get to understand that she is more stunning

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 20 YEARS DEAD MARRIAGE

and fine-looking as the single out you picked and chose on

the first day you decided to fall in love, then until you decided
to make her as your wife because that was the final choice
you made, to be with her for the rest of your life. If you do
anything wrong, apologise for the rest of the night. Be the
bigger man, largely remain quiet (especially when she is in a
hostile mode); accept the fact that she is a woman. Certainly
never cheat, or lie; and suffer the inordinate crises of insanity
that comes with your relationship. Wives are more beautiful
when you show them true love; when you give them total
concentration and jam-packed contentment; and care them as
much as you can. Above or beyond, reaching up to your
furthest level-best culmination.
Husbands and Wives, don’t ever put yourself in a situation
that will cause your spouse to qualm or mistrust you.
Marriage is full of many ups and downs, adventures, and
definitely incredible memories. Don’t ever stop dating your
wife and don’t ever stop flirting with your husband. Don’t
mind about doing away with dust just to walk unknown
journeys. Emphatically, you will get to learn and see more.
You will discover further marriage things as you walk
around. Sing and dance together and be blissful. But
sometimes let each one of you be alone, this will resettle both
of your personal problems. Always remember why you

30 | 2 0 Y D M
married each other. Marriage is more than being a couple. It
is a hug, embrace, and adoration. Give anything and
everything into the other person’s needs; caring, showing
loyalty, spending time together, cherishing every moment as
one fresh; compromising, learning more about marriage,
expressing your love, listening to what your one half has to
say, supporting each other in any way you can, letting your
soul connected to each other, growing (even more, old) with
your beloved ones, showing compassion, understanding,
appreciating where you are wrong. And putting in a hard day
of work but still managing to tell your partner that you still
love, need, want and wills to do anything to keep your love,
precisely life, going on. Love is more than a fairy tale… love
is real; marriage is more than having children… marriage is
tremendous.
My 20 years dead marriage was not an option though. And
I believe if my husband never turned down on me or his
family, all diseases would not be an option now, but I do not
regret that because it is all gone. I believe and trust that every
marriage will grow older as long as you believe, trust, and
live together just like the first days you met each other, not
until you will have great grandsons and great granddaughters
to be phrasing your reputation. Always keep the eye of love
open, and fortify the hope of your marriage, stretched and

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 20 YEARS DEAD MARRIAGE

focused. Your relationship is a joint friendship, which

spreads into veins.

From Avox (aoxbooks)

Written By Choolwe J. Mwiinga
Published for ebook By Avox Publishers

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 ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Choolwe J. Mwiinga started writing in
2014. JM is an author of more than 10 short
stories, novellas and novels. Counting the
likes of Rise of the Universe (Sci-Fi
Novel), How I Became a Night Worker!, A
Mistake In Us! (Romance Novel), Love on
the Wall, A Girlfriend Like You, Afronita
and many more. He is the founder of Aoxbooks.com, and Avox
Publications, Aoxbooks Inc. And he is a Zambian Registered
Nurse.

From Number One

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