AGNETTA

Mrs. Kango was in her best elements. She left the stream with a sort of girlish relish in her walk and a bucketful of water on her head. Moving westward as she was, the wanning evening sun (midway through the last quarter of its daily course) caught her advancing figure and forced her shadow to fall behind. 

She strode on dreamily, one foot in front of the other. And, as if in consequence or rather in compliment to her walk, her hips alternately bulged outward, stretching subtly the fabric of her dress. To all outward appearances, she was unusually lighthearted. 

All this while, a sort of lost unconscious smile played lingeringly on her face; and her eyes, ever turned inwards, were held fast by fascinations of her past maiden days. Then, in this bygone time, she had indeed been an enchantress: Awino of the flowing waist.

Even in such a state, she was not entirely out of reach of sadness. As she drew nearer to her compound, however, the sadness in her proportionately gained a more conspicuous state. Her cheerfulness then became suddenly and totally lost to her semblance. However, with that loss rose a keen consciousness of her bearings. Her hut, being the first wife, was at the right side of the compound. 

If out there she had been alone and lonely, in here, she was solitary. Her co-wife kept way out of her way as if her affliction of childlessness was contagious. Worse still, she steered her children in this self-same belief, never failing to impress in their memory the popular accusation. Mrs. Kango, the elder wife, endured all manner of accusations relating to her husband's death. 

However, nothing saddened her more than the innocent prejudice of her husband's innocent children. Her co-wife had indeed never delayed to instruct them in this vice.

How sadly had things turned out; and yet somehow Mrs. Kango saw herself at the cause of this turmoil. Had it been, after all, knowing the natures of women, a thoughtless undertaking? Was talking her husband into marrying another wife to repay her in such a manner as this? At any rate, by her own making, a second wife came into the family. Agnetta, she was called and as Agnetta of vendettas she turned out.

Like herself, Agnetta was now too a widow. Yet in the present circumstances, in the eyes of relatives, Agnetta's hold on the family was more unquestionable: she had children, after all. And that indeed did leave a lot to be said and asked of the first wife's position.

                        *

Mrs. Kango's attentions floated back to the present. The makeshift external kitchen of thatched roof concealed her approach into the compound. And on a sudden, as she rounded the far side she came to a halt. 

Sitting in a semi-circle at her doorstep were elderly men, close relatives of the family. On taking notice of Agnetta in their midst, she drew back from her usual burst of merry activity in same such occasions. Mrs. Kango knew in an instant that this was no ordinary social gathering.  

Besides, from the way Agnetta's eyes sparkled with sadistic concentration, the object of this elderly party could not get any more clearer. She knew her co-wife well; and that vile sparkle was not for show.  

She balanced the object on her head: it seemed heavier than she remembered it. Mutely, she released herself of the weight of the bucket and edged closer to the seated panel...

The spokesman, seeing his chance, shifted in his foldable chair and assumed a more intimidating posture. That alone told Mrs. Kango all that she desired to know of the nature of this rendezvous. The manner of the old instigator, by the application of a little ploy, sent off alarms in quick succession in her mind. 

"It's wonderful," he began,"how well you still can balance the bucket. If I may ask: have you not yet torn yourself away from this pretension? I mean...well, your husband has been gone for a while now, yet you still fetch water at this hour when he used ( in life, I daresay) to take his bath. 

"By-the-by, it's a thing for the reservation of wonder how well you are holding up in your place. That's nothing to frown about, my dear. You see, I used to believe, till this moment, that no one person has it all: yet you render this belief obsolete. You have it all... What? Come up again? Ah but of course: you're barren and a widow, oh, and heartless! How else could your co-wife's children be starving, and yet you grow fat in your fruitless tummy?"

Mrs. Kango had had her fill and she interposed as only a lady whose respect was on the balance could, hotly: "That's because I ain't no lazy bone! Oh sorry, did I graze a nerve there!? I thought age diminishes envy ( oh how wrong I was!)... you turn green at the work of my hands, the hands of a woman, poh!"

The reaction was no less hot than Mrs. Kango's outburst itself: it came swiftly and directly as if they had hoped for such an interposition from her. "You call our ancestral lands the work of your hands, woman! What monstrosity! Be gone at once from this homestead! GO!" The mortified horde of old relations stood up, and made an effort to show its indignation by thorough shakes of walking sticks. 

At that instant, a woman of lesser reservation than Mrs. Kango possessed would have burst in tears. Instead, she kept her outward coolness, much to her tormentors' dismay and disappointment. Never would she give Agnetta the benefit of seeing her crying. Mrs. Kango determined to walk away as only she could, head held high. However, she went only as far as the graveyard and no farther. There she lingered, torn. How could she part with him?

In a moment more, she registered another figure by the grave, next to her. It was Agnetta. She was leaning toward her as though to give her a parting mockery of a hug. However, what she ended giving was worse than any pain that a mere mockery would have effected. In a voice too full of triumph, Agnetta remonstrated,"Leave the wretched husband to rot in peace, or should I say to pieces? It's tough luck he mocked my love, and chose you! You! Oh goodness, how quickly that poison did take him: a little show wouldn't have killed him! Anyways, it feels so sweet to have you both out of my life. So long, sweetie."

This was too much. She...Agnetta! In shock, Mrs. Kango collapsed by her husband's grave.