The water from her basin splashed on the ground, as she hurriedly entered the compound and headed to the big pot, positioned in front of her hut. After she poured the water into the pot, she wiped the sweat mixed with water from her face, while stamping her feet to shake off the sand that had accrued on them. The loud crow of her neighbour’s cock startled her. She looked into the sky and realised the darkness was gradually fading. She grabbed her basin, and trotted back to the stream to fetch her last basin of water for the day. Going to the stream before daybreak, had become a ritual for her. This ritual saved her from unpleasant encounters. It saved her from the accusing fingers and waggling tongues of the elderly in the village. It saved her from being called childless by other married women. It saved her from being ridiculed for allowing another woman take over her home. Most importantly, it saved her from being called a lunatic.

As she was heading back home with her last basin of water, someone called her name from behind and her heart skipped a beat.
“Techira, it is you again. You are once again fetching water before the day even opens its eyes. Why are you always in a hurry? Aren’t you scared of the evil surrounding this place?”
Techira immediately knew who it was. It was Foto, the village drunkard and as usual, he was drunk. In all her thirty years of life in the village of Damongo, she had never once seen Foto sober, regardless of the time.
“Foto, as you can see, it’s very early and I do not want any trouble from you. You are the only evil around here, so please stay out of my way,” Techira blurted and dashed off, without waiting for his response. She knew her day was ruined, as it always was, anytime he happened to be the first person she crossed paths with.

As she drew closer to her compound, she heard someone sweeping and she could see dust rising in the air. The person stopped sweeping and shot a delightful stare at her when she entered the compound. Techira poured the water into the pot, covered it with a lid and leaned the basin against her hut. She turned to enter her hut but noticed there was still a stare, piercing her back. She sighed in resignation before saying, “ How are you this morning, Amoma? I hope you slept well?”
“ I am fine, Mma Techira, and I slept like a baby last night,” Amoma responded with a grin, so wide that Techira feared her cheeks would turn sore. Techira knew that Amoma, the ten year old daughter of Awoshie, her rival, was fond of her, just as she was of her too. Techira also knew that, Awoshie had forbidden Amoma from ever talking to her. So, Amoma always waited for her to talk to her first so she could respond, and when rebuked by her mother, she would use Techira speaking to her first, as a defence. Amoma resumed sweeping and Techira entered her hut, stooping extremely low, to avoid bumping her head on the entrance. She used to hate the fact that she was one of tallest women in the village and the fact that men felt inferior whenever they stood beside her. However, that hate disappeared when she met her husband, Badow. Badow never failed to tell her how elegant her height made her look. She took a mirror and opened her window giving way to the gushing sunlight, to brighten her room. While looking into the mirror, she caressed her dark-skinned face, feeling its smoothness. She spotted a pimple at the tip of her long nose and her big eyes flung wide in terror. She pursed her lips, deepening the dimples on both cheeks, and squeezed out the pimple. She despised pimples and she never spared any that appeared on her face. She heard Amoma’s yelp in the compound, so she placed the mirror down, adjusted her lappa round her waist and went out to see what had happened. Techira met Awoshie, threatening to hit Amoma again with the broom.
“Instead of doing the task I, your mother has assigned to you, you’re here busy talking and smiling with loonies who have no idea of how being a mother feels like,” Awoshie said while violently shaking both her chubby arms. Techira immediately knew Awoshie’s statement was directed at her, just as she knew that Awoshie often feigned annoyance with Amoma in order to insult her indirectly. Without uttering a word, Techira headed to the kitchen, a shed across the compound, to prepare breakfast as it was her duty to cook that day. She knew Awoshie never ate her food. She knew she always fed it to their neighbour’s dog but Techira never said anything about it. What she couldn’t fathom was how a woman, who had an adulterous relationship with her husband and caused a rift in their relationship, could be so pompous and shameless even to the extent of disrespecting her the least chance she got. Nevertheless, Techira hoped that one day, she would disappear from their lives just as she appeared unannounced.

That night, Techira battled with sleep. The wheeze of the night breeze didn’t make it any better. She closed her eyes tightly to force herself to sleep and just then, she heard it. She heard that familiar tune of a flute that she had almost forgotten existed. A tune that clouded her ears at midnight, twice every year for the past ten years. She hopped on her feet, with her heart racing. She clutched her chest and stood firm, trying not to move her legs, an effort she knew was futile. Eventually, she found herself walking out of her room. The dark sky was moonless, with only a few scattered stars dotting its expanse. She slowly walked to the main gate, tracing the tune and before she could touch it, someone gripped her wrist, startling her.

© Nasreen Zankawah,2025