THE EMAIL

[Published in the Weekend Nation of 1 May 2010]

CheNayi, a budding businessman, was a very happy man. He sat on a sofa listening to Friday mid-day jazz from one of the local radio stations, a picture frame enshrining his wedding photo of ten years ago, in his fleshy hands. He gleefully looked at the photo for the umpteenth time and stared again at his killing smile at twenty-one, the smile that had won him the hearts of many, including Anitra, his sweetheart.

However, that smile at twenty-one was not the reason he was that blissful, neither was it the equally charming smile of his wife at nineteen. The pleasant memories of the years he had stayed in marriage the picture brought were the reason. Why could he not when so many marriages had, and were crumbling. Are not the newspapers and the airwaves awash with divorce stories? Yes, things were that rotten, but his marriage had stood the test of time; it had remained firm through the thick and thin of things.

When he married, so many people never gave his marriage the slightest chance of survival, especially with his family being of two people from different backgrounds. People predicted doom. CheNayi came from a poor environment, while she was from a well to do family. He was a Yao and she was a Tumbuka. He was just out going and so talkative, while she was reserved and liked quite atmospheres. People christened their union ‘a crash of civilizations’.

Nonetheless, that was not the case with his mates: Andisen and CheThava. When the two married, people had predicted paradise. Nevertheless, theirs were marriages that either were dead or were damned with a hell of problems.

Andisen’s marriage was dead and buried within weeks of its inception, even though it had so much pomp and fanfare. As for CheThava’s marriage, though dubbed, as ‘they would live happily thereafter’ was the same one that had worn out the ankhoswe with quarrel and fights to the extent of the marriage counselors dumping it?

Therefore, with his marriage still standing solid not for a year or two but a whooping ten years, CheNayi had every reason to celebrate, and celebrate big for that matter.

He looked now at other pictures on the wall, enshrouding mainly his family of two children, the children his wife had taken, half an hour ago, to his sister for custody.

You see, during their tenth anniversary, they had planned to have no company. They had also arranged to commemorate it at the same place in Mangochi they had their honeymoon.

“I left you to pack, not that picture frame to detain you,” his wife interrupted him.

“Oh, you’re back?” he asked, looking at her fondly, “Despite walking in the hot sun you still look beautiful and sexy,” he said and watched her brush a little bit.  

“Please let’s pack. I don’t like you traveling at night,” she shyly said.

They had agreed that CheNayi would leave that day to sort one or two things, as she finished the day off at her workplace, and she would join him the following day. 

CheNayi arrived at the destination after two hours. The place was scotching hot. After checking in, he decided to communicate to his wife. He decided to use the internet, wanting to surprise her. During their honeymoon, the place had no such facilities. He wrote the message and unknowingly, misplaced a letter on her e-mail address, and sent it.

The e-mail found its way and landed in the mailbox of some well to do woman who at the time had just arrived home from the cemetery where they went to bury her husband. She decided to read her e-mails hoping to find condolences from relatives and friends, especially from abroad. After reading the first one, she cried aloud and collapsed dead. People rushed into the house and found her dead cold on the floor. Their eyes strayed to the computer screen, and saw the opened e-mail, which read:

My lovely wife, I arrived safely and I know you’ll be surprised to receive this; they have computers now. I found everything already arranged and I cannot wait for your arrival tomorrow. I even found some old friends here, and they look forward to seeing you. But it’s awfully hot down here.