As I stood at the stove, preparing Lunga’s dinner, I was almost tempted to slip some poison into his favourite soup. I did not, though, but I continued dicing the onions and peeling the potatoes because I had always been diligent. The house was spotless and clean, the children were asleep, and dinner was almost ready. And in thirty minutes, he would be walking through the door, shouting at everyone and demanding his dinner.

I was still sore from the beatings I had taken the day before, but I had mastered the art of acting. I acted all day, and every day. I acted like I was happily married, but oh no, I was not even married! The pig did not even finish paying lobola to my family! He just paid R7 000.00, and promised he would finish the rest of the amount, but, at the time, he still had not done it.

After a while, I took my apron off, hung it up, and started serving dinner with two plates. My kids had already eaten. They were my happiness, and the only thing that Lunga had ever done right was giving me two beautiful kids.

**********

After setting up the table, I heard Lunga’s car driving in, and I listened to his footsteps as he approached the front door. I sat still, waiting for him. He walked in after a while, and his shirt was tuck out, and his tie was undone. He looked like the pig that he was, and he was swaying this way and that, but what else is new?

After Lunga walked in, I noticed that he had half a bottle of brandy in his right hand, and his work bag hung over his shoulder. I looked at him, then I ask myself what the hell I was still doing with him. But then I remembered how good things used to be, and how loving he once was. Maybe that was why I was still there, holding on to the past.

“Ayi! Other men come home to beautiful wives, while I come home to you,” Lunga shouted, bringing his bottle up to his lips. “You’re ugly, man! What did I ever see in you?”

I was used to him saying things like that to me, so I did not get offended anymore. “Dinner’s ready,” I said with a smile.

“What did you cook?” Lunga asked, sitting down. While he was talking, I noticed the lipstick on his shirt, but I did not say anything. “At least you’re good at one thing,” he continued, ignoring the spoon I had put on the side and eating with his bare hands. I felt hatred for him.

“How was work, Lunga?”I ask him, watching him eat like a pig.

“Anything is better than looking at your face the whole day,” Lunga responded, licking his hands. “Where are my boys?” he continued, gulping down his almost empty brandy bottle.

“Asleep, Lunga,” I said, taking a bite of my meat.

He nodded in response, then he looked at me. His eyes were once beautiful and warm, but at that moment, they were full of hatred. It was like my existence annoyed him. “I’m taking you out tomorrow,” he said, pushing his now empty bottle to the side.

“Where, Lunga?” I asked, sipping my juice.

“Just doll yourself up, will you? And make my boys look handsome too,” he responded, standing up and walking to our room.

As soon as Lunga was gone, I stood up and started clearing the table. But, while I was slowly washing the dishes, he comes back and stood behind me. “Silindile,” he whispered into my ear while wrapping his arms around me. I felt him, and I feel his hardness on my butt. He was naked.

I turned around to face him. “Not now, Lunga. I’m tired,” I said, moving away.

Before I could get far, Lunga grabbed me. “If you don’t get it from me, you must be getting it from someone else,” he shouted.

Instead of responding, I continued packing the dishes because I did not want to fight.

“I’m talking to you!” Lunga shouted.

“I don’t want to fight, Lunga, please,” I begged in a low voice. But, instead of doing as I asked, he came towards me and kissed me by force.

***

Tell us: How do you think society needs to deal with men who treat women the way Lunga treats his wife?