“You can’t
just sleep all day little one,” the mother said soothingly. She rocked back and
forth, her toddler cradled in her arms. Back and forth, back and forth. A cool
breeze blew through the leaves of the peaceful jungle. What a beautiful day it
was. “You don’t want to miss out on this lovely day, little one,” the mother
cooed. Back and forth she rocked.
Her mind
began to wander to the night before. “No,” she told herself sternly. “Last
night was just a dream.”
She rocked
her baby back and forth.
“Last night
was just a nightmare.”
The mother
waved to her husband’s second wife as the latter left the hut to fish. Their
husband would be returning soon, and they would have a lovely meal waiting for
him.
Their two
young children played happily together in front of the hut. The mother watched
them, smiling. What fine boys they both were. Why was it that her husband
seemed to prefer the son of his second wife? What was wrong the mother’s own
darling boy. Surely he would grow to be a strong man, just like his father.
Surely he was actually better than the other son, the son of his second wife.
Second families are meant to be lesser. She
was the first wife. Her son should be favored…
That night,
she crept to the spot where the two children were sleeping. She could just
barely see their little forms through the darkness. She spotted the son of the
second wife, and quickly ended his young life. Her child awoke and shrieked
with fright at the sight of the mother with a weapon in her hands. The little
boy ran from the hut.
“He will be
just fine,” the mother said to herself. “I did this for him.”
As dawn was
breaking, the mother went to clean up her evil deed.
“A lion
came into the hut,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “I could not save the
poor child.”
She picked
up the little body and left the hut with the intention of burying him in the
jungle. But as she stepped into the growing light, she went cold.
She held
the body of her own child. Entirely numb, she continued to the jungle.
“You must
wake up soon, little one,” the mother said, rocking back and forth. Back and
forth. “Your father will be home soon.” Back and forth, back and forth.
“There she
is!” the voice of a villager rang out through the jungle. Back and forth. “She
has the child! He’s dead! The other boy was right.”
“Murderer!”
shouted another. Back and forth.
“Kill her!”
boomed a third. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Author's Note. This story is based off of The Jealous Wife from the Congo Unit. In the original, a husband has two wives who each have a child. He leaves home for six months to trade and asks his wives to take good care of the children while he is away. When he is about to return, the wives decide to each go fishing for a few days so that they can give their husband a nice meal when he returns. One wife stays with the children while the other goes to fish. When it is the older wife's turn to watch the children, she decides to kill the child of the second wife because that child is preferred by the husband. She kills a child in the night and the other runs of to the neighbor's. In the morning, she realizes that she killed her own child and runs off into the woods. The husband returns and the living child tells him that his first wife killed her child. The husband and some villagers find the wife in the woods nursing the dead child and shaking it, asking why it won't wake up. They kill the wife for her crime.
My version focused on the murderer wife and her skewed perspective. She had to have been mentally unstable to murder a child, and then she completely unraveled when she found out she killed her own child. I began the story ambiguously so readers may just think that the mother is rocking her child like a normal mother. But at the end, the truth of the horrible situation is revealed and the rocking takes on a new significance.
Bibliography: The Jealous Wife from
Notes on the Folklore of the Fjort by Richard Edward Dennet (1898).
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