Naima

Everyday, while she waited for her husband to come home, Naima would meticulously lay out the table. First she would take a damp cloth and wipe the surface. Then she would arrange the plastic table mats. There was one for the rice bowl, one for the curry, and one for each of their dinner plates. They were exactly the same; a lackluster green floral pattern against an off-white background. The centerpiece was an unsightly porcelain vase. It was stuffed with flowers that she dried on her windowsill.

Naima cooked for them. She washed and ironed their clothes. She kept the place well, for a woman her age (she was 66). She never asked for help, nor wanted any.

Her husband was a magistrate at the local island court. He would retire next year. As a youth, he had been wayward, preferring women and chess to the joys of employment. But the death of his father had brought about a dramatic change in his character. He was an only child, and his mother had died shortly after his birth. He went to male’ with the money his father left him. There he got himself a judge’s certificate and Naima. He came back to his island to preside over the court and, in due course, gained a reputation for being judicious.

Not much was known about his personal life. He rarely went out, and when he did so, it was to the holhuashi where he indulged himself in a game or two in the evenings.

Sometimes he would bring strange men over to the house. They were always older than him. And always from other islands. And Naima would be asked to make tea and prepare the hookah for smoking.

Later, the men would retire to the bedroom. Naima would often go with them. There, they would all undress and make love. Occasionally, her husband would call his father’s name while he came. He preferred to come in a man while Naima watched. Naima preferred to come with at least two cocks in her vagina.

Naima and her husband were known for their hospitality to strangers.

image via cathredfern

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