Chapter 1 Enough of the Disquiet Elder

Becky strode gracefully along a narrow path. A twenty-litre barrel of water lay on her back held steadily in place by a robe wound around it and looped about her head. Her upper body slightly leaned forward and her eyes were glued to the path on which she trod.

She raised her head a little to have a good view of the way ahead and her eyes caught a glimpse of Pabonya her husband's venerable paternal uncle who was leaning against the fence his arms folded across his chest and his keen eyes gazing at her. She noticed a weird smirk in his austere façade and her heart sunk in a sickening plunge.

There was a marked difference in the way the uncle had been treating her. And it sucked. Her every meeting with him lately had brought some burning like that which a hand that had come into contact with pepper would bring to an eye.

"Why don't you listen?" He started coldly and so suddenly that Becky gasped despite having anticipated this, "Hmm! How many times do I have to remind you that at no time should you be dressed in such atrocious clothes?" his voice was loud and harsh.

Anger flowed to her and a poignant emotion twisted in her gut. This was the hundredth time he was talking to her like this and about the same subject: the indecency of the clothes she wore.

"Aren't you ashamed of yourself, walking around half naked? Look at you; wicked girl," he condemned.

Becky examined herself as though she had been unaware how she was dressed. It was just her tight, black miniskirt. And indeed, it was short; partly covering the upper parts of her legs above the knees and was slit at the back. Anyone looking at her from behind could get a clear view of her thighs. On top was her red, sleeveless, tight-fitting blouse that allowed an observer's eyes access to her cleavage.

She transferred her gaze to his face after the brief self-inspection.

Fury flared in her eyes. "It is not your business to tell me how to dress; my dress my choice!" the words came tumbling down before she had properly consider them.

It was apparent that her reaction had surprised the elder. Encouraged, she continued to torment him. She stepped close to him and looked up at his face. "Isn't my husband comfortable with me?" she added unflappably, "Do I have any interest troubling myself to appease a man who has never said anything nice to me?" Her tone was laced with vexation.

Pabonya's face wrinkled in distaste, mortified that what he just heard were Becky's actual utterances. They felt like a slap on the face.

How dare she spoke to an elder like that? How insensitive of her? What a blatant display of pride and arrogance?

Yet it was quite unusual and untypical of her. She had always taken his lectures without a word. How and when this peppery attitude crept into her, he could not tell.

Becky had found his remark very irritating. Had she not been patient with him for so long? Now it was about the time she stood firm and assert her authority defending her lifestyle.

She looked at him one more time and saw the look of defeat on his face. He was getting hurt and she nearly grinned fascinated by the success of her jab. It felt good to hurt him in return for the countless times she had been hurt by him.

She defiantly walked past him, allowing him another moment to digest the realities of the rude reaction she had just unleashed.

Pabonya followed her with his eyes until she was gone and out of sight.

Utterly defeated and rankled, he turned around and took the path that led to his house and paced away feeling his blood boil.

He swore to himself that he will institute a package of sanctions that will ensure that Becky pay an enormous price for handling an elder so demeaningly.

She is brave, he thought, just brave and ignorant. He would put a major hit on this false confidence and make her life miserable, full of sorrow and shame.