The Case of the Snatched Husband(A Story of Markets, Myths, and the Power of the Truth)

The Case of the Snatched Husband

By Lawson Chiwara

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: The Court of Green Leaves ......................... (The Market)

Chapter 2: The Kettle and the Ghost ............................. (The Kitchen)

Chapter 3: The Churchyard Performance .................... (The Public Truth)

Chapter 4: The Final Reckoning .................................... (The Accident)

Chapter 5: The Shadow in the Hallway ........................ (The Enigma)

Chapter 1: The Court of Green Leaves

The sun was a relentless witness over the Machipisa market, but under the jagged shade of the corrugated stalls, the air was thick with something more scorching than the heat: the “truth.”

“Five days,” Mai Sharo said, snapping a head of rape greens with a sharp crack. “Five days, and Jeni is still sweeping the porch as if Farai is coming home to eat sadza and read his Bible.”

Mai Chipo leaned in, her apron stained with tomato juice. “He isn’t coming back on his own feet. You saw that girl from Micho’s bar? The one in the trousers so tight you can see her thoughts? She didn’t just take him; she uprooted him. Akatorwa kare uyo!”

“Varume imbwa veduwee,” the sweet potato woman chimed in, rinsing her tub. “What did he see in that little girl that Jeni doesn’t have? Chii chaakaona pakasikana ikako chausina dhia?”

The trap was set: sympathy offered as a cage. Jeni was being invited to measure her worth against a bar stool. Just then, Jeni’s shadow fell across the stall. The market went silent.

“Vakadzoka here baba?” Mai Chipo asked, her voice dripping with a sympathy that felt like a snare.

Jeni looked at the women whose lives were stitched together by the myths they told one another. Her voice was steady. “He didn’t go because he was taken,” she said. “He went because he wanted to see who he was when no one was watching.”

She walked away, leaving a silence that felt a lot like fear.

Chapter 2: The Kettle and the Ghost

That evening, the kitchen was too loud. The whistle of the stovetop kettle screamed into the house. Farai stood by the window, his shadow long against the linoleum. He had returned an hour ago, creeping in like a thief.

“Jeni,” Farai started, his voice cracking. “I wasn’t myself. People are saying she used something... mupfuhwira. Maybe that’s why I—”

“Don’t,” Jeni said. She turned off the stove. “Don’t give her the credit of being a witch, Farai. It makes her too powerful, and it makes you too small.”

Farai turned. “Then what am I?”

“You were a man who wanted to breathe without the collar of a Deacon,” Jeni said with weary clarity. “You went to her because she didn’t know the man who stands in the front row of the choir. You didn’t fall out of love with me; you fell out of love with the mask we wore.”

“I tested the waters,” Farai whispered. “I wanted to see if I was still alive.”

“And?”

“The water was deep,” he said. “But it was empty. Just another mask.”

Chapter 3: The Churchyard Performance

The following Sunday, the sun bleached the churchyard dust. Elder Moyo approached them, his voice heavy with tradition. “Jeni, we are glad Farai has been returned to you. Guard your home more carefully now.”

Jeni did not bow her head. “Elder, Farai was not stolen. He walked away. And now he has walked back. If you call him ‘returned,’ you make me a jailer and him a prisoner.”

Farai stepped forward, his voice trembling but firm. “She did not fail to guard me. I failed myself. Do not call me snatched. Call me accountable.”

The crowd shifted. Mai Sharo clicked her tongue. If Farai could choose to go, then the "snatching" myth was dead—and every woman in the yard was suddenly vulnerable.

Chapter 4: The Final Reckoning

The peace lasted only two days. On the third night, Farai’s side of the bed was cold again. He had gone back—not for love, but to find the "test" he hadn't finished. At midnight, the phone rang in Jeni’s mother’s hut.

“Your husband was involved in an accident,” the officer said. “The woman he was with is dead. He is at the local hospital.”

The market women arrived at the hospital hallway before Jeni did. They were already whispering. “See? The witch is dead. God has saved the husband for the good wife.”

Jeni pushed past them. Farai lay broken in the bed. “Jeni... I was coming back. I swear.”

Jeni looked at him—not with anger, but with the clinical observation of a survivor. “Are you back because you chose me, Farai? Or are you back because the other road ended in a ditch?”

Farai couldn't answer.

“The neighbors will call this a miracle,” Jeni whispered. “But a husband who is only ‘returned’ because his escape route crashed is still a man who is gone. I am not waiting for a miracle anymore. I am waiting to see if I still want the man who is left.”

Chapter 5: The Shadow in the Hallway

The hospital hallway was a gauntlet of whispers. As Jeni walked toward the exit, the crowd parted like a curtain. Mai Sharo pulled her shawl tighter, her eyes wide with a frantic, wide-eyed terror.

They didn't see Jeni anymore; they saw a woman who had "fixed" the road. If she wasn't weeping, she must be scheming. They needed her to be a witch, because the alternative—that she was simply a woman who had stopped caring—was a ghost they couldn't exorcise.

Jeni saw Mai Chipo’s breath hitch. Jeni stopped, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small, dried leaf that had fallen from the mango tree that morning. She looked Mai Chipo directly in the eyes and slowly crushed the leaf in her palm, letting the dust fall to the floor.

She said nothing. She didn't have to.

She walked out into the night, hearing the frantic whispers behind her. “Did you see? She signaled the spirits. The dust... it was the dust of a finished life.”

Jeni smiled into the darkness. She had no charms. She had no spells. She only had the truth, and in a village built on lies, the truth is the most terrifying magic of all. People fear what they do not understand, and they respect power—even if they don't know whence it comes.

.............................................................. Glossary of Terms (Cultural Context)

Akatorwa kare uyo: (Shona) "He was taken long ago." Often used to imply a man is under a spell or have been successfully "stolen" by another woman.

Akatorerwa murume: (Shona) "Her husband was snatched/taken from her."

Adzoka: (Shona) "He has returned."

Chisikana: (Shona) A diminutive, often derogatory term for a young girl.

Covo/Rape: Popular varieties of leafy green vegetables (kale/collards) sold in Zimbabwean markets.

Dhia: (Shona/English slang) A term of endearment, "Dear."

Machipisa: A bustling commercial hub and market area in Highfield, Harare.

Mitirauzi: (Shona slang) "Tight trousers" (from "meters"). Usually refers to form-fitting leggings or jeans.

Mupfuhwira: (Shona) A love potion or "medicine" used to culturally "tame" a partner or steal someone’s husband.

Muthi: (General Southern African term) Traditional medicine or charms, often associated with supernatural power.

Pamusika: (Shona) At the market.

Sadza: The staple thickened porridge made from maize meal.

Vakadzi vepamusika: (Shona) The market women; often the primary keepers of communal gossip and social standards.

Author’s Note:

My daughter was my first test reader for this piece, and she’s already "moaning" that I ended it too early. She wants to see what Jeni does with her newfound "magic."

What do you think? Should the story end at the gate, or is there a Chapter 6 waiting to be told? Let me know in the comments.