I did not finish my schooling, which led me to marry at just 18 years of age. It was the Friday night drinking sessions of the young men that emboldened me to hand my love letters to the beautiful girl, the daughter of the village leader who owned the shop where we often drank. Maybe that’s what they call luck.
Who was I, a simple young man, to resist the charm of a clever and attractive girl? Even the firm grip of the shopkeeper’s son didn’t deter me.
My wife’s name is Sui. After we were married in my church, we decided to live with my family to look after my mother, since it was just the two of us. Sui had three sisters in Samoa, five brothers overseas, and came from a strong family, as her mother held a senior position in the Prime Minister’s office.
When we moved into my family home, it felt like I was a millionaire. The community no longer saw me in my usual tattered shorts and worn shirts. I wore only new clothes, probably funded by the shop owned by Sui’s family. Not only that, but I felt as smart as a professor, proud that I was living with Sui… who all the village boys admired.
Everything went smoothly during the first month. Sui and I would wake early to prepare breakfast for my mother before I went to work for the village and Sui stayed at home with my mother.
But something was happening without my realising. Every evening when I returned home, my mother would say to me, “You shouldn’t leave me behind like this.”
I would retort, “Mom, what do you mean? You’re living here with Sui, and I’m also here.” Sui would say nothing, just nodding her head, while my mother’s expression looked saddened. I thought, perhaps she was just missing me during the day.
Then we sat down to eat, and I noticed my mother eating as if she hadn’t eaten all day.
I asked Sui, “Did you both eat today?” Sui quickly replied, “Yes, this is our third meal today.”
Since Sui and I moved in, we hadn’t had any children. I longed for a child. I hoped for rain to water the earth and for prayers to bless our marriage, longing for a daughter or son to call me father.
One Sunday morning, I told Sui to prepare something for my mother before going to church.
But I was shocked when Sui shouted at me, “Look, why don’t you fetch the firewood yourself?
Every week you bring your family’s leftovers here, and you expect me to help when you’re not even around!” My mother was startled, as if struck by the blow, wondering what had just happened.
I stood speechless, quietly preparing the food for Sunday.
Later that evening, my mother called us both for a talk. We sat down, and she said, “Alright, you’re both here. This Sunday hasn’t been peaceful, as I’ve been troubled by your unhappiness, Sui…”
Before she could finish, Sui lashed out, “Unhappy with what? I’m tired of being a slave in this poor family, scraping together my parents’ money to support your family, while no one else helps with anything. You can keep your ridiculous customs!”
My mother could only cry, and I thought to myself, maybe this is why she seems hesitant whenever I leave.
Maybe this is what’s been happening every day. Perhaps this is why we’ve had no children. I’m exhausted, constantly facing misfortunes because of my wife. I realised I made the wrong choice.
I was swept up by the charm and wealth that blinded me to how she treated my mother. Now, the relationship between my mother and wife was a heavy burden.
Months passed, and Sui became pregnant. One Wednesday afternoon, while I was cutting grass behind our house, I heard a commotion.
I ran inside to see my mother arguing with Sui, who was holding her cheek. Sui claimed her ear was hurting from my mother’s scolding, but I knew it was Sui’s harsh words and mumbling that provoked my mother.
Despite my mother’s anger, her love for us all remained, no matter how disrespectful Sui was. As for me, I endured it all, since Sui was pregnant. Besides, my mother had always taught me never to lay a hand on a woman.
But this forbearance only encouraged Sui’s disrespectful behaviour towards my mother.
Finally, the month for Sui to give birth arrived, and one night she went into labour. My happiness felt like it had reached the heavens. It had been a long wait to hear the cry of our child.
We called the village midwife, Losa. For nearly five hours, Sui’s labour failed to progress. I saw something I had never seen before: her pain was overwhelming, and she couldn’t speak.
I grew anxious and told my mother we needed to get her to the hospital.
At the hospital, the situation was critical. She couldn’t sit properly. I rubbed her back, gave her water, but she lay there moaning in pain.
The doctors rushed in and sent my mother and me outside. We waited, hearing Sui’s loud screams from the delivery room, while we pleaded to God. After a long wait, the doctor finally came out.
“Are you Sui’s husband?” …
“Yes, I am. Is my wife alive?” It felt like my world shattered as the doctor said, “Be strong. We did everything we could, but it was too late. Sui couldn’t give birth, and both she and the baby didn’t survive.”
Tears and wailing poured out from my heart, as if a spear had pierced me. All my hopes and dreams for a child vanished.
I turned to God and asked, was it not because of how my wife treated my mother that this tragedy occurred?
