Mataya: The Village Girl and Her Combat Totems on a Quest for Love
…
Behind her animosities and jealousy, as was the case with several women in the village, her friends secretly wanted to see Zïab fail in her relationship with Tundé so they could rid themselves of their own influence over her.
Malik, charming and full of promise, made a strong impression on Zïab.
Under the approving gaze of her friends, she began to envision a future with him, trying to forget Tundé and the simple happiness she had hoped for.
But despite appearances, Zainab’s heart remained tormented, torn between the wealth promised by Malik and the feelings she had for him.
As the days passed, and although Malik showered Zainab with gifts and attention, she couldn’t help but think back to Malik’s kindness and authenticity.
Her friends, delighted to have succumbed to their influence, continued to push her towards him, convincing her that her happiness lay in the hands of this wealthy man.
Yet, doubts began to creep in.
Behind Malik’s charisma lay expectations and demands she wasn’t ready to meet.
As the weeks went by, Zainab began to notice a change in Malik’s behavior.
The charming and attentive man who had courted her so carefully seemed to be fading away.
Malik spent more and more time out with his friends, and when Zainab asked him why he didn’t come home earlier, he would respond with annoyance or dodge the question.
At times, he even displayed outbursts of anger that surprised and frightened her.
One day, when he returned…Late, the smell of alcohol still lingering on him, Zïab tried to start a conversation.
” Malik, I feel like we’re drifting apart.
This is n’t what you showed me at the beginning when you wanted us to be together.
Why have you become so distant?” she asked in a calm but worried voice.
“You’re imagining things, Zïab,” he replied abruptly, avoiding her gaze.
“You should be happy with everything I offer you.
You wanted a man capable of giving you a good life, didn’t you? So accept it.
” Malik’s words, though disguised as a reproach, planted a seed of doubt in Zïab’s heart.
She began to wonder if she had made a mistake in choosing Malik.
Was this the man she was meant to spend the rest of her life with? And above all, why was she thinking so much about Tundé, who had never made her doubt his intentions or his affection? Seeking comfort, Zïab confided her fears to her friends.
She told them about Malik’s behavior, his lack of attention, and ” Perhaps I made a mistake because of his occasional violence,” she confessed half-heartedly, as if uttering those words made her doubts more real.
Her friends, however, brushed aside her worries.
” Ziab, you’re overthinking it,” Kadiatou said, sounding exasperated.
“All men have their flaws.
Malik is a busy man, but he loves you.
Give him time, and everything will go back to the way it was.
You don’t want to ruin this chance, do you?” Despite their reassuring words, Ziab sensed a coldness in their tone, as if she were defending Malik for other reasons.
In reality, her friends, fearing that Ziab might change her mind and go back to Tundé, decided to act behind the scenes.
They visited Malik secretly, telling him about Zainna’s doubts.
” She’s starting to have doubts,” Kadiatou warned.
“If you want to keep her, you have to reassure her.
Do something to prove to her that you’re serious.
” Malik, offended by the idea that Zïab, considering leaving him, made a quick decision.
He had to act before the situation spiraled out of control.
The next day, he showed a completely different side of himself.
He came home early, complimented Zïab, and even though he still lacked sincerity, he proposed a major step: “I’ve thought about it, Zïab.
Let’s go see your parents to formalize our union.
I want us to build our home together.
” These words struck Zïab like a promise she had hoped for, but the speed with which Malik uttered them left her perplexed.
Was it proof of true love or simply a strategy to keep her under control? Despite her doubts, she accepted that perhaps by moving forward she would finally find the answers she was seeking.
But in her heart, another truth persisted: she couldn’t forget Tundé, nor the sincere smiles they once shared.
While Malik seemed ready to do anything to seal their future, Zïab wondered if she would have the strength to turn back before it was too late.
Malik, true to his…Malik, determined to prove his seriousness to Zïnab and her family, went to her parents’ house accompanied by a few close relatives for a formal presentation.
Laden with gifts— baskets filled with fruit, bottles of wine, precious fabrics— he made a dazzling impression.
Zïnab’s family, impressed by his generosity and good manners, welcomed him warmly.
“We see that you have good intentions for our daughter,” said Zïnab’s father, a satisfied smile on his face.
“This reassures us.
” Malik even presented them with a first bottle of wine, symbolically marking his commitment to Zïnab.
This solemn gesture sparked a new admiration in Zïnab’s heart.
She began to see in him not only a determined man but also someone capable of changing for her.
Zïnab’s friends were not forgotten.
Malik, eager to maintain their support, ensured they always felt welcome.
On every visit, he greeted them kindly, sharing drinks and money.
Kadiatou and the others were flattered.
And grateful women showered him with praise, further reinforcing the idea that Malik was the ideal man.
Little by little, Zïnab softened and, to her own surprise, began to genuinely fall in love with him.
The moments they spent together were filled with tenderness, and Malik seemed to have transformed into an attentive partner.
Life with him promised to be happy, and Zïnab finally felt at peace.
But this tranquility was abruptly shattered one morning while she was chatting with her friends at the market.
A heartbreaking rumor reached her ears: “Did you hear? Your friend is dead! He fell while climbing a palm tree!” Zïnab felt the ground give way beneath her feet.
“What? No, it can’t be!” she cried, refusing to believe it.
The details were already on everyone’s lips: Tondé had tried to climb a palm tree to cut palm nuts, something he often did to earn a living, but this time the rope he was using had…Broken, and the fall had been fatal, Zïnab felt a sharp pain in her heart.
Even though she had distanced herself from Tundé and started a new life with Malik, the news of his death reminded her how much this man had meant to her.
Her hands trembled as she listened to the witnesses’ accounts.
The entire village was shaken by this tragedy.
Tundé was known for his hard work and dedication, and his loss left a void in the community.
For Zïab, the pain was twofold: she wept for the man she had once loved, for the memories they had shared, and for the cruel fate he had snatched from life.
Malik, sensitive to Zïnab’s pain, did his best to support her.
He said nothing more than necessary, but his constant and reassuring presence allowed Zïab to get through this ordeal.
The days passed, and Zïab, although grieved, began to find a kind of peace.
She realized that even though Tundé’s death was a tragedy, life went on.
Malik was now taking shape more clearly.
Despite the pain, she chose to honor Tundé’s memory by moving forward with courage.
The days passed, and little by little, Zïab began to resume a normal life after Tundé’s tragedy.
In the eyes of the village, she lived an enviable happiness alongside Malik, a rich and influential man who had won everyone’s favor.
But behind the doors of their home, a completely different reality was emerging.
Malik’s true face began to appear gradually but relentlessly.
He was becoming irritable, and his outbursts were more and more frequent.
One evening, while Zïab was waiting for dinner, he came home late, carrying the smell of alcohol.
When she tried to ask him where he was, he replied curtly, “I am not a prisoner, Zaïnab.
You don’t have to control every minute of my life.
” These cutting words left Zïnab distraught.
She tried to minimize her distress, convincing herself that she was dealing with a bad woman, but things didn’t change.
Things didn’t improve.
Malik became increasingly distant, preferring to spend time with his friends.
When she dared to ask him for explanations, he would violently dismiss her: “Stop complaining, Zainab.
If you’re not happy, the door is wide open.
” The first signs of physical violence soon followed.
One evening, after a particularly heated argument, Malik lost blood and slapped her.
Zainab, shocked, curled up in a corner of the room, tears in her eyes.
She then understood that the man she thought she loved was very different from the one standing before her.
Distraught, Zainab turned to her friends for support, but to her surprise, they downplayed the seriousness of the situation.
” Malik is a man; they all have their flaws.
Learn to put up with it, Zainab,” they advised her.
Their insensitivity broke her heart.
She understood that their loyalty to Malik was motivated by what he offered them: money, gifts, attention.
They either didn’t see or didn’t want to see their friend’s suffering.
Despite everything, Ziab clung to the hope that Malik would change, but that hope was shattered one fateful afternoon.
As she was returning from the market, she noticed Malik in a quiet neighborhood near a small, secluded house.
Curious, she silently approached.
What she saw froze her in place.
Malik was there, embracing Kadiatou, one of his closest friends, the very one who had tried to seduce Tundé in the past.
They were kissing passionately, oblivious to the world around them.
Ziab felt her blood run cold.
Pain and betrayal overwhelmed her at once.
She remained motionless for a few seconds, then, unable to contain herself, she cried out, “Malik! Kadiatou!” They both froze in surprise.
Malik tried to explain, “Ziab, it’s not what you think,” but the words rang hollow.
Kadiatou lowered her eyes, unable to meet his gaze.
Ziab, her chest tight, turned and ran away, tears blurring her vision.
She understood then that she had lost everything she thought she had built.
Malik wasn’t the man she had hoped for, and her friends, in whom she had placed so much trust, had betrayed her in the worst possible way.
Back home, Ziab sat in a corner of her devastated room.
For the first time, she realized she had to free herself from this life that was slowly destroying her, but how could she? The coming days would be crucial for her survival and dignity.
Ziab returned home that night, her heart shattered.
The scene between Malik and Kadiatou replayed endlessly in her mind, a cruel reminder of the betrayal she had just suffered.
She collapsed onto her bed, tears streaming down her face.
Every breath was a struggle, every thought a stabbing pain.
As she tried to calm her pain, memories of the past flooded back.
She relived the incident with Tundé and Kadiatou at the river that day.
Where everything had changed, Kadiatu’s words, her theatrical behavior, everything suddenly made sense.
Ziab understood that Tundé had probably been innocent, that Kadiatu had lied to hide her own intentions.
A wave of guilt washed over her.
She had pushed Tundé away, an honest and respectful man, because of the manipulation of someone she thought was a friend.
The tears flowed again, but this time they carried a different emotion: anger.
Ziab realized that her friends were nothing but traitors, ready to manipulate her for their own interests.
Kadiatou Malik, even the others, had all abandoned or betrayed her.
This realization gave her the strength to make a decision she should have considered long ago.
She could no longer stay in this house, in this life.
She got up, her heart heavy but resolute, and began to pack her suitcases.
Each garment she packed was a promise of change, a step toward her freedom.
Just as she was about to leave, the door opened abruptly.
Malik entered, his face etched with anger.
“What are you doing, Zïab? Why are you packing your bags?” he asked harshly.
Zïnab, trembling but determined, replied, “I can’t stay here anymore, Malik.
I’ve put up with everything: your anger, your absences, your lies, but tonight it’s too much.
I’m leaving.
” Malik burst out laughing, a cold and contemptuous laugh.
“You think you can just leave like that? I spent money on you, I saw your parents, I gave you the dowry wine.
You’re mine, Zïnab!” Anger rose within him, and he approached, threateningly, “You have no right to leave!” Zïnab recoiled in fear, but Malik, blinded by rage, slapped her hard.
She fell to the ground, but in a surge of survival, she got up and ran towards the door.
Malik tried to catch her, but she was already outside, barefoot, fleeing into the dark night.
She found refuge with her uncle, a wise and protective man who lived not far away when she arrived.
Breathless and in tears, he greeted her with concern.
“Zaïab, what’s wrong?” he asked, alarmed by her state.
Between sobs, she recounted everything: the betrayal, the violence, and the scene that evening.
Her uncle listened in silence, his face hardening as she spoke.
When she finished, he stood up, determined.
“Tomorrow we’ll go see Malik.
I won’t let my niece live like this.
” The next day, they went to Malik’s house.
Surprised to see them, he tried to justify himself as soon as they arrived.
” It’s a misunderstanding,” he said, feigning a calm he no longer possessed.
But Zaïab, supported by her uncle, refused to be silent.
” A misunderstanding! And your anger, your blows, your lies—that’s also a misunderstanding!” she retorted, her eyes shining with anger and pain.
Malik, stung to the quick, lost his composure.
“Don’t start acting tough in front of me, Zaïnab!” he said, taking a threatening step toward her, but her uncle Malik interposed himself, his gaze hardening.
” That’s enough, Malik.
If you think you can continue to treat her like this, you’re mistaken.
I’m not going to leave my niece in danger.
” Malik, beside himself, tried once again to approach Zïab, but the much more robust uncle firmly pushed him away.
“You want to hit her in front of me? You think that’s what being a man is?” he thundered.
“You’re a coward, Malik! And if that’s how it is, I’ll take Zïab with me.
I don’t need to ask anyone’s opinion.
You’re not a man to her.
” Frustrated but unable to reply, Malik watched them leave furiously.
Zïab, though still trembling, felt a weight lift from her shoulders as she followed her uncle out of the house.
She knew her fight wasn’t over, but for the first time in a long time, she felt free.
Zïab and her uncle left Malik’s house early in the morning, his firm hand resting on her shoulder in a gesture of respect.
As he walked towards her parents’ house, Ziab remained silent, lost in thought.
She dreaded their reaction, fearing their disappointment, but she knew it was time to tell the truth.
When they arrived, her parents welcomed them warmly, but a palpable tension was already building.
After they had settled in, Deïab spoke gravely.
“I came today with Ziab because there is something important to discuss,” he began firmly.
“She is no longer safe with Malik.
I saw it with my own eyes.
He tried to hit her, right in front of me.
She confided in me that he had been beating her for some time.
That’s why I decided she had to leave immediately.
” Deïab’s mother brought a trembling hand to her mouth.
“He was beating her! Why didn’t you tell us anything, my daughter?” Ziab lowered her eyes, ashamed.
” I was afraid, and I hoped things would get better.
” “It only made things worse,” her father sighed deeply, his face dark.
“We thought he would take care of you.
He came with gifts, he showed respect.
We believed he would make you happy.
We were wrong.
” The uncle nodded.
“That’s why I’m here.
I decided that Zïab would come live with me.
My house is big enough, and it needs time to rebuild.
I couldn’t leave it in danger.
” After a long discussion, Zïab’s parents finally agreed, albeit reluctantly.
“We trust you, brother,” her father said, his voice heavy with regret.
“Take care of her, and you, Zïab, know that if you need anything, we will always be there.
” The departure was filled with sadness and relief.
As she followed her uncle, Zïnab felt a weight lift from her shoulders, but the emptiness left by her shattered dreams weighed heavily on her heart.
Back at her uncle’s house, life slowly resumed its course.
Her aunt welcomed her warmly.
Offering invaluable support for the first time in months, Ziab felt a sense of security.
However, a few days later, a shadow disturbed this tranquility.
One morning, as she got up to help her aunt, Ziab felt a sharp pain in her lower abdomen.
Her vision blurred, and she collapsed to the floor before she could call for help.
Her aunt, alerted by the noise, rushed over and shouted to her husband.
Together, they rushed her to the hospital.
After several examinations, the doctor returned with unexpected news: she was pregnant, he announced in a calm but serious voice.
But there was a problem: she had suffered internal injuries from blows.
This made her pregnancy very fragile.
She must avoid all stress or physical exertion to preserve her health and that of her child.
Ziab’s uncle felt a dull anger rising within him, directed at Malik, but he chose to focus on what was essential: his niece’s safety.
” Doctor, what should we do to help her?” he asked.
“She needs a lot of.
.
.
” Rest, a balanced diet, and regular checkups with appropriate care should help her and the baby recover.
Back home, Zïnab was overwhelmed by conflicting emotions.
Learning she was carrying Malik’s child terrified her, but she also saw it as an opportunity for renewal.
This child would symbolize a new beginning, a life she would rebuild with love and resilience, with the unwavering support of her uncle and aunt.
Zïnab embarked on this long road to healing, determined to protect the child’s future and break free from the chains of her past.
Months passed, and Zïnab’s pregnancy became impossible to hide in the village.
Rumors spread like wildfire.
” Zainna is pregnant,” the villagers whispered, “but whose child is it? She’s living with her uncle, far from her husband.
Is it Malik’s child?” Every day, the curious glances and silent judgments weighed on her a little more.
Malik soon heard about the pregnancy.
The news struck him like a thunderbolt.
He, who had continued to live his life carefree in the company of Kadiatou, Ziab’s friend, felt a rising fury and frustration within him that he couldn’t contain.
But he forced himself to remain calm, convinced that Ziab had acted out of revenge.
“She humiliated me,” he thought, “but it doesn’t matter.
She means nothing to me anymore.
” Malik continued his relationship with Kadiatou, but their story was anything but solid.
Their union was built on superficial interests: Malik’s money and Kadiatou’s opportunism.
But the wheel eventually turned.
In a few months, Malik lost everything he had.
His businesses declined, his partners turned away from him, and his debts piled up.
His life of luxury collapsed, and he found himself in a state of poverty he had never known.
Kadiatou, true to form, didn’t stay long.
As soon as Malik became unable to offer her the gifts and comfort she had expected, Accustomed to this, she left him without remorse, leaving him alone in his misery.
Malik, now despised by those who once admired him, experienced a descent into hell that made him bitter and isolated.
Meanwhile, Zinab continued her life at her uncle’s house, focusing on her pregnancy.
Every day she took care of herself, supported by the love and protection of her uncle and aunt.
Her months were difficult, but they also allowed her to reflect on her life and rebuild her self-esteem.
When the moment arrived, Zinab gave birth to a beautiful little girl.
The day of her birth was a mixture of pain and joy, but when Zinab held her child in her arms for the first time, she felt a surge of pure and unconditional love she had never known.
She named her Mataya, a name carefully chosen to symbolize a new beginning.
Mataya quickly became the center of her life, a ray of sunshine that illuminated her days and reminded her that despite everything she had been through, she had found the strength to continue living.
Life continued peacefully in her uncle Zïnab’s house.
Although marked by hardship, she began to look to the future with optimism.
She devoted all her time to her daughter, promising to give her a life full of love and protection.
As for Malik, he wandered the village, but he was still recognizable.
He would watch from afar as Zïnab’s uncle’s house, sometimes wondering if that child was his.
But he never dared approach, too ashamed of what he had become and too aware that Zïnab would never forgive him.
In this new chapter of her life, Zïnab understood that despite the scars of the past, she had the ability to build a better life, not only for herself but also for her daughter.
Mataya became the symbol of her renewal, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, a light can emerge.
Six years had passed since Zïnab had left Malik.
Life had resumed its course, and Zïnab was surrounded by the love of her uncle, her aunt, her parents, and Especially with her daughter, Mataya had rediscovered a serenity she thought she had lost.
Her face radiated again, her smile lit up those who crossed her path, and her heart beat with the peace of a woman who had overcome the worst trials.
Mataya, now six years old, was a little girl full of life and curiosity, her mother’s treasure.
That morning, Zïab was getting her ready for school.
The little girl, in her impeccable uniform, clutched her backpack excitedly.
“Mom, hurry up! I don’t want to be late!” she exclaimed.
Zïab smiled, took her hand, and together they set off.
The road was bustling with the comings and goings of the villagers.
Zïnab, always elegant and graceful, attracted admiring glances, but her attention was entirely focused on Mataya, who asked questions about everything she saw.
As they approached the school, a dirty, disheveled man appeared in their path.
He wore tattered clothes, his face marked by fatigue and poverty, and he emitted an unpleasant odor.
An instinctive impulse emanated from him.
Ziab pulled Mataya behind her.
“Stand back, sir,” she said firmly, but the man didn’t move.
He looked up, and Ziab felt a shiver run through her.
She knew that look, despite the filth and pitiful state of this individual.
She recognized Malik.
“Please, let me speak to you,” he implored, his voice trembling.
Ziab took a step back, his gaze filled with contempt.
“I have nothing to say to you.
Stay away from me and my daughter.
” Curious, Mataya gently tugged at her mother’s dress.
“Mom, who is this man?” Ziab replied quickly through gritted teeth, “I don’t know him.
” Malik, however, was not discouraged.
He fell to his knees before her, his hands outstretched in supplication.
” Please, Ziab, I know I’ve hurt you.
Everything that’s happening to me today, I deserve, but there’s one thing I need to know, just one.
” “Tell me, is this little girl my daughter?” Ziab’s heart sank, and a heavy silence fell.
Mataya, perplexed, looked back and forth between her mother and Malik.
“Mommy, what is this? Is he my daddy?” she asked, her innocent voice piercing the tense atmosphere.
” No, Mat, this man isn’t your father,” Ziab replied, avoiding Malik’s pleading gaze.
Malik persisted, his voice breaking under the weight of his emotions.
“Zinab, I don’t want anything from you.
I’m not here to take her or threaten you.
All I want to know is, is this little girl my daughter?” Zinab felt a wave of anger and sadness rise within her.
Memories of her physical and emotional wounds, of those lonely nights and her struggles to protect Mataya, resurfaced.
She looked at Malik, now broken, and replied coldly, “Yes, she’s your daughter, but you’ve ruined everything, Malik.
Because of you, I almost lost this child.
You don’t deserve to be called her father.
” Malik closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping as if under the weight of an immense burden.
“Thank you,” he murmured, “that’s all I wanted to know.
” Zïab turned on her heel, squeezing Mataya’s hand as she walked away.
Mataya tugged on her hand again.
“Mom, he’s my dad, right?” Zïnab stopped, her gaze fixed on the horizon.
“Yes, it’s him,” she said finally, “but he abandoned you, Mataya.
Because of him, I almost lost you.
He’s a bad man, and he doesn’t deserve for you to consider him your father.
” Mataya nodded, but her small face remained marked by incomprehension.
They continued on their way to the school, leaving Malik behind, kneeling in the dust.
After dropping off his daughter, Zïnab walked slowly toward the house, her heart heavy from this unexpected encounter.
Malik, once powerful and arrogant, was now just a shadow of his former self, but she knew that his priority was Mataya, and she vowed to continue to give her everything she needed.
A life full of love and protection, far from the darkness of the past.
One evening, Mataya came home from school quieter than usual.
Her little face was marked with bruises, and she carefully avoided meeting her mother Ziab’s gaze.
Seeing her like this, her heart sank.
Ziab crouched down to look her daughter in the eyes.
“Mataya, what happened to you? Who did this to you?” she asked, her voice tinged with worry and anger.
Mataya looked away and remained silent.
Ziab insisted, her tone becoming firmer.
“Mataya, tell me the truth.
If you don’t tell me, I’ll punish you.
You have to tell me what’s happening.
” Tears welled up in Mataya’s eyes, and her small, trembling voice finally broke the silence.
“Mom, at school there are boys in my class.
They hit me sometimes.
When you give me something to eat, they take my bread, my food.
I don’t want it anymore.
Mom, I don’t want to go to school anymore.
” These words struck home.
Zeïnab was suddenly struck by the memories of her own childhood, marked by violence and abuse of power.
She felt a deep anger rising within her.
She took Mataya in her arms, holding her tightly as if to protect her from this cruel world, but she had to express this anger.
She went directly to her uncle, Mataya at her side.
Her voice trembling but full of determination, she explained what her daughter was enduring: “Look at what she’s telling me! These boys hit her, they threaten her, they eat her food! I don’t want my daughter to live what I went through, Uncle! I don’t want her to be a victim, not her, not after everything I’ve suffered!” Zeïnab’s uncle, deeply moved by her words, nodded slowly.
“You’re right, my daughter.
This isn’t a life for Mataya.
We have to do something.
” The next morning, after a night of reflection, the uncle made a decision: ” Mataya, come with me,” he said.
He took her hand and, without another word, He took him to a place Ziab hadn’t set foot in a long time, to the home of an old friend who specialized in combat totems.
This man, respected for his ancestral knowledge, had helped many people develop their inner and physical strength through these practices.
This ritual involves several precise steps.
The practitioner makes light incisions at the joints of the body, usually with a razor blade.
After these scarifications, he meticulously applies a powder with mystical properties, traditionally dark in color, composed mainly of animal bone fragments and other ritual ingredients.
The fundamental belief of this ritual rests on the idea that when the process is correctly executed, the practitioner symbolically and spiritually absorbs the intrinsic qualities of the animals whose bones were used in the preparation of the powder.
The aim is thus to appropriate their strength, courage, agility, or other attributes considered beneficial in a confrontational context.
Upon arriving, the uncle greeted his friend, a robust man with features marked by the years.
“My brother, I need your help,” he began.
This is my niece.
She’s being bullied and beaten, and her mother can’t take it anymore.
We want her to be strong.
I want you to introduce her to the combat totem.
I want her to be able to defend herself and never be at anyone’s mercy.
The man watched Mataya in silence, scrutinizing her innocent face, marked by pain.
He nodded slowly.
“I understand.
If you want me to help her, she’ll have to be brave.
The combat totems aren’t child’s play, but if she ‘s ready, I’ll do what’s necessary.
But I must warn you, this might be painful for a child.
Are you sure this is what you want?” Zina’s uncle clenched his fists.
“I won’t let this little girl be a victim.
We must give her the strength to defend herself, to no longer be afraid.
Do what needs to be done.
” The man took a deep breath, then turned to Mataya.
“Little one, you must be brave.
What I’m going to do will give you the strength of a gorilla.
You will be strong, very strong, but.
.
.
” It will come with a pain you will have to bear.
Do you want to continue? Mataya, though young, understood the importance of this moment.
She looked at her great-uncle, then at the man.
She thought of her mother, what she had endured, and the fact that she no longer wanted to be prey.
She nodded.
Yes, I do.
The man took out a small bag containing his ceremonial equipment, as well as a bowl containing black powder.
He explained to the uncle that this powder was made from crushed gorilla bones mixed with herbs and other secret ingredients.
This powder is the key.
Once I apply it to the cuts, the gorilla’s strength will permeate her, but she will have to heal and adapt.
Mataya sat down, her small hands trembling but resolute.
The man began the ritual with a delicate but precise blade.
He made thin cuts on her joints: her wrists, elbows, knees, and shoulders.
Mataya gritted her teeth, trying not to cry, while the man applied the black powder to each cut.
A burning sensation.
It invaded her body, but she remained motionless, supported by the protective gaze of her great-uncle.
“Well,” the man said, concluding, ” it’s done.
The ritual is complete.
Rest well today, little one.
Tomorrow you will begin to feel the strength.
In a few days, this strength will be yours.
” The uncle warmly thanked his friend and took Mataya home.
Zinab, worried but determined, watched over her daughter all night.
The next day, Mataya woke up different.
She felt more energetic, and a new strength seemed to vibrate within her.
In the days that followed, she noticed that her movements were faster and more precise, and that she was able to carry objects she hadn’t been able to lift before.
Zinab observed these changes with a pride mixed with emotion.
She knew that her daughter would never be a victim again.
This ritual, though difficult to accept, had given her a power that no child her age possessed.
Mataya returned to school with newfound confidence.
The boys who had bullied her before tried to threaten her again, but this time she defended herself.
Her impressive strength.
.
.
She was stunned and they fled.
From that day on, no one dared to attack her.
Seeing her daughter transformed like this was a relief, but she wondered if this power, though protective, didn’t also come with its own challenges.
She hoped Mataya would use this strength to defend herself and not to seek revenge.
For now, she simply enjoyed this moment of calm, happy that her daughter had found the strength to fight against adversity.
In the days that followed the ritual of the battle totems, Mataya’s strength, which she had initially used for self-defense, changed.
It became a source of pride and confidence, but this confidence, too great for a child her age, began to overflow at school.
She imposed her will with disconcerting assurance.
The students, whether boys or girls, even those older than her, no longer dared to contradict her.
One day, a boy tried to mock her in front of the class.
Mataya, without hesitation, grabbed him by the collar and threw him to the ground as if he weighed nothing.
Two of her friends tried to intervene, but she overpowered them in seconds.
The scene, which might have seemed heroic if she had been defending someone, took on a disturbing tone.
Mataya, her fists clenched, stared at her classmates, and a heavy silence fell over the room.
Complaints began to pour in from Ziab and her uncle.
“Your daughter hit a student today,” reported a teacher.
“She broke a girl’s bag,” added another parent.
The boys who used to intimidate her didn’t even dare cross her path anymore, but their fear was no longer mixed with admiration.
She had become a feared child, an uncontrollable force.
Alarmed by her stories, Ziab decided to talk to her one evening.
She sat down with Mataya.
“Mataya, I know you’re strong, and I’m proud of you for that,” she began.
“But be firm, strength isn’t a toy, nor an excuse to hurt others.
Tell me, why do you behave like this?” Mataya lowered her eyes but replied With childlike frankness, “Mom, when he makes fun of me or tries to hurt me, I don’t want to be afraid anymore, so I defend myself.
” Zïab felt a mixture of pride and sadness.
She understood her daughter’s need to no longer be a victim, but this uncontrolled strength risked destroying her.
She shared her worries with her uncle and aunt.
“She’s young,” said the uncle after a long thought.
“She doesn’t yet understand that her strength is n’t a tool for revenge, but a gift she must learn to control.
It’s up to us to teach her that.
” One day, the situation reached a critical point.
Mataya, angry with a boy she had provoked, hit him so hard he broke his nose.
The school immediately summoned Zïnab and her uncle to discuss the incident.
Back home, Zïnab, distraught, decided it was time to take matters into her own hands.
She gathered the whole family and spoke to Mataya with a firmness she had never used before.
“Mataya, listen to me carefully.
.
.
” The strength you possess is a gift, but if you don’t use it correctly, this gift will become a curse; people won’t love you.
Because you are strong, they will love you.
Because you are good, because you are respectful, we will help you, but you must make an effort.
Her uncle added gravely, “We did this to protect you, so you won’t be afraid in this world.
But you must learn to control this strength, otherwise it will destroy you.
” This was the beginning of a long road for Mataya.
Her mother, uncle, and aunt worked together to teach her to control her emotions, to think before acting, and to use her strength only as a last resort.
They encouraged her to express her feelings with words, not punches.
They also taught her the importance of empathy and respect for others.
The first few weeks were difficult.
Mataya, used to responding with violence, struggled to change her habits, but with time, she began to understand her mother’s advice.
The stories her uncle told her about the wisdom of the elders and the unwavering love of her family allowed her to see things differently.
Little by little, Mataya became a child Gentler and more thoughtful, she learned to use her strength only to defend those in need, not to dominate others.
At school, the complaints ceased, and the students began to appreciate her again, not out of fear, but out of respect.
Zinab, seeing her progress, felt her heart swell with pride.
She knew the road ahead would be long and fraught with obstacles, but she was convinced that Mataya would become an exceptional young woman capable of great things.
For now, she savored every moment, grateful for the strength and love of her family, which had allowed her to transform a dangerous power into a true gift.
Years passed, and Mataya, now a young woman, finished her studies in the village with the support of her family and Zinab’s unwavering love.
She had learned to fully master the strength within her; she was no longer the impulsive child she once was.
Her wisdom and calm inspired respect and admiration.
When the time came, Mataya left her uncle’s house to build her own life with her savings and a stable job.
She settled in a small neighboring town, ready to explore the world on her own.
Zinab, though proud of her daughter, felt a pang of sadness seeing her leave, but she knew that Mataya had grown up and was ready to fly on her own.
Zinab, for her part, had found inner peace.
She still lived in her uncle’s house, a home that had become hers after everything she had been through.
She had decided never to remarry.
“My life is fulfilling with Mataya and my family,” she often said.
“I don’t need anything more.
” Mataya, though fulfilled, soon explored a new facet of her life: love.
She met a man named Koba, a young, ambitious entrepreneur.
Their relationship began under the best of circumstances.
Koba was charming, attentive, and seemed to respect Mataya’s independence.
But over time, things began to change.
Koba became increasingly possessive.
He criticized Mataya’s choices, questioned her independence, and began to exhibit inappropriate behavior.
The condescending, strong-willed Mataya tried to make him understand that she wouldn’t tolerate such disrespect, but instead of changing, Koba became more aggressive in his words.
One evening, during an argument, the situation escalated.
Overcome with anger, Koba raised his hand to Mataya, but before he could touch her, Mataya reacted instinctively.
Her years of self-control and restraint shattered in a fraction of a second.
She grabbed his arm with incredible force, twisted it, and forced him backward with a powerful movement.
Surprised and humiliated, Koba tried to retaliate, but Mataya was no longer easy prey.
With a few precise movements, she completely disarmed him, throwing him to the ground as if he weighed nothing.
“Don’t you ever lay a hand on me again,” she said in a cold voice, her gaze fixed.
Stunned and frightened, Koba struggled to his feet.
” You’re crazy!” he spat, his eyes full of resentment.
” I can’t be with a woman like you, a woman who thinks she’s stronger.
” A calm but firm man, Mataya simply replied, “I don’t think I’m stronger than you.
I am, and I won’t let anyone disrespect me.
” Koba left the apartment that evening, ending their relationship.
Although affected by the separation, Mataya felt neither regret nor remorse.
Instead, she focused on herself, realizing she had escaped a potentially dangerous situation.
She spent the evening alone, reflecting on what she truly wanted in life.
The next morning, as she watched the sunrise from her apartment window, she smiled.
She knew she was on the right path and that her strength, while impressive, didn’t define everything she was.
She was a free woman, capable of choosing her own destiny, and that was enough for her.
Over time, Mataya saw her love life become increasingly complicated.
She, who had grown up mastering her strength, found herself struggling with a problem she had never anticipated.
The men she met all ended up fearing her.
At first, everything Things seemed to be going well for Mataya.
With her radiant beauty and confident personality, she easily attracted attention, but each time, as the months went by, things took a turn for the worse.
When an argument erupted, some men tried to physically impose themselves, as if they could break her will or test her limits.
Despite all her efforts to restrain herself, Mataya eventually reacted, and her reaction was always the same: a show of force that left her partners humiliated and hurt.
One man, after daring to raise a hand to her, found himself thrown through a table.
Another, after slapping her, was knocked to the ground with a single blow, his ego as bruised as his body.
These incidents, though occasional, took on disproportionate importance in the town rumors.
People began to speak of her as the terrifying villager, the one who spared no man.
Some saw her as a heroine, especially when she intervened to defend other women or put an end to injustices, but for many, she had become a figure of fear, an unmanageable woman whom no one dared approach.
The men who tried to seduce her backed away as soon as they heard about her past.
Months passed, and Mataya began to feel the weight of this reputation.
She mentally counted the men she had tried to be with; each time, it had ended the same way: with fear, rejection, and a bitter breakup.
She felt trapped in a cycle she couldn’t break, even though she had decided to correct her behavior and learn to control herself.
It seemed no one wanted to give her a second chance.
The pain of this situation built up inside her.
One evening, alone in her apartment, she felt tears welling up.
She, who had grown up learning to be strong, found herself isolated by that same strength.
She didn’t know what to do anymore, and that’s when she thought of her mother.
She picked up her phone and called Zinab.
When her mother answered, Zinab’s warm and reassuring voice immediately put her guard down.
” Mom, I don’t know what to do anymore,” she said, her voice breaking.
“It’s always the same.
I meet.
.
.
” Everything seems fine with someone, but as soon as they discover my strength, everything falls apart.
Rumors in the city say I’m dangerous.
No man wants me, and even when I promise not to react anymore, no one believes me.
Zinab listened attentively, her heart aching for her daughter.
“My daughter, I understand your pain,” she replied softly.
“The strength you possess is a gift, but it can also be a burden.
It’s not your fault if these men don’t know how to understand or accept you, but I want you to remember one thing: the man you need, the one who will know how to love you, will be the one who isn’t afraid of who you are.
He exists, I promise you.
” But Mama wept, “Mataya, what if no one ever accepts me, and if I end up alone like a stranger in this city?” Zinab took a deep breath.
“You’re not alone, Mataya.
You have your family, you have me, and you have time.
Don’t try to force things.
Continue to live your life with dignity and confidence.
The person who deserves you will come, but only if you remain true to These words, though soothing, left Mataya filled with doubt, but something in her mother’s voice reminded her that she had been through much worse in the past and that she could still overcome this ordeal.
She promised herself to keep moving forward, even if the path seemed uncertain.
After her conversation with her mother, Mataya found herself deep in thought.
Although she appreciated Ziab’s comforting words, she felt a distance between her mother’s experiences and her own reality.
Ziab had lived as a victim, and for her, strength was a necessary protection.
But Mataya, who carried this strength within her, could see that it had become an obstacle, a burden she no longer knew how to bear.
One evening, as she was returning from the market, Mataya passed by Mamkumba’s stall.
An old woman respected in the neighborhood, Mamkumba, sitting on a mat in front of her baskets filled with herbs, spices, and fruit, greeted Mataya with her usual smile.
She had always considered her a wise figure.
Kind, someone who seemed to understand things that others ignored.
Impuls Mataya stopped, put her basket down, and sat down near the old woman, Mamkumba.
“I need your advice,” she said, her voice heavy with fatigue.
The old woman placed her wrinkled hands on her knees and looked at her kindly.
“My daughter, what’s troubling you? Tell me everything.
” Hesitantly, Mataya told her all about her strength, the men who had left her, the rumors in the city, and her feeling of being trapped.
Mamkumba listened in silence, nodding her head from time to time.
When she finished, the old woman sighed deeply.
“My daughter,” she began softly, “I understand your situation.
What you’re going through isn’t easy, but listen carefully to what I’m going to tell you.
Here in our culture, what gives a man his strength in a home isn’t just his physique or his money; it’s his dignity, his virility, his self-confidence, but you too.
” Your strength, you’ve reversed that.
Even if a man isn’t violent, even if he’s gentle, if he knows he can’t do anything against you, that you’re stronger than him, he feels devalued.
It’s as if you’re the one who has to protect him.
Mataya lowered her head, reflecting on her words.
Mamkumbaua, a man can’t bear that.
Even if you promise never to use your strength, that’s not what matters.
What matters is that he knows he’s the boss, that he has power over you, even symbolically.
But if deep down he knows he can never dominate you, it’s a lost cause.
The old woman paused, then fixed her gaze on Mataya.
My advice, my daughter, is this: leave this town.
Here, everyone knows you, everyone knows what you’re capable of, and that works against you.
You won’t get a second chance here.
If you truly want to change your life, go somewhere else, to a new town where no one knows you, and there, learn to blend in.
In the crowd, keep your strength to yourself.
Don’t let anyone discover what you can do.
Start a new life where you can show another side of yourself.
Mataya felt a mixture of relief and apprehension listening to her words.
She knew Mamkumba was right.
As long as she stayed in this city, the stares, the rumors, and the fear of others would continue to haunt her.
” Thank you, Mamkumba,” she murmured.
“I will follow your advice.
” The old woman nodded.
“It’s the best thing to do, my daughter.
Go, but remember what I told you: your strength is a gift, but it shouldn’t be your only identity.
Show the world that you are so much more than that.
” The next day, Mataya began preparing for her departure.
She informed her mother of her decision, explaining that she needed to change her life to free herself from the chains of her past.
Ziab, although sad to see his daughter leave, understood and supported her.
A few days later, Mataya left the city with her belongings and a heart full of hope.
As she walked away.
.
.
She cast one last glance back, promising herself that this time she would succeed.
She was determined to start over, to rebuild herself and find a balance between her strength and her life.
A new adventure was beginning, and Mataya knew it would be a difficult but necessary path.
Mataya’s journey was long, punctuated by changing landscapes and a multitude of thoughts that crossed her mind.
Leaving that city, she left behind a reputation, memories, and a part of herself.
She had made the decision to start over, to rebuild her life far from the judgmental looks and rumors she had followed.
When she arrived in this new city, Mataya felt a mixture of apprehension and hope.
Everything was different here.
The streets were bustling with merchants, the colorful stalls overflowed with fruits, vegetables, and fabrics.
The inhabitants seemed busy but kind.
Mataya found a small room to rent, and with her meager savings, she decided to start a small business at the market.
She began selling fruits and spices, quickly integrating into the community.
In the daily life of the market, she greeted her customers with a smile, listening to their stories and learning the intricacies of the city.
Although she kept her strength hidden, she quickly earned respect through her kindness and hard work.
One day, as she was putting away her wares after a long day, a man stopped in front of her stall.
He wore simple clothes; his face was marked by work, but his eyes shone with a sincere warmth.
” Good evening, miss,” he said with a shy smile.
“Do you have any fragrant spices?” Mataya looked up and smiled.
“Thank you.
Would you like some?” His name was David, a construction worker who worked on a nearby building site.
Their first conversation was brief but marked the beginning of something.
Every day, David came to the market to buy something or simply to exchange a few words with Mataya.
He was respectful, humble, and seemed intrigued by her.
As the weeks passed, their connection grew.
David sometimes invited Mataya to share a meal or a walk at the end of the day.
For the first time in a long time, Mataya felt her heart open again.
David was different from other men.
The man she had known wasn’t rich or particularly imposing, but he possessed a simplicity and sincerity that deeply touched her.
They decided to build their life together, sharing a small house on the outskirts of town.
Their relationship, though solid, wasn’t without its challenges.
Like any couple, they had their arguments.
One evening, a quarrel erupted between them.
David, overcome by anger, raised his hand to Mataya.
It was a gesture he immediately regretted, but one that would have been enough in the past to trigger a devastating reaction from her.
This time, however, she did nothing.
She lowered her eyes, letting David express his frustration without resorting to violence.
She felt an emotional pain stronger than the physical pain, but she understood that her silence was a victory over herself, proof that she had changed.
David, shaken by his own behavior, apologized sincerely: “I ‘m sorry, Mataya.
I didn’t mean to.
I’ll never do it again.
” And he kept his word.
The arguments didn’t disappear, but they never turned physical again.
Through her patience and resilience, Mataya managed to transform their relationship.
As the months passed, their love grew stronger, becoming something more balanced and respectful.
Mataya discovered in David a partner capable of loving her, for whom she felt no fear or resentment.
Together, they overcame the challenges of daily life, building a warm and welcoming home.
One day, Mataya felt a change within her.
A visit to the doctor confirmed her suspicions: she was expecting a child.
When David learned the news, his face lit up with indescribable joy.
“We’re going to have a baby!” he whispered, his eyes filled with emotion.
A few months later, Mataya gave birth to a healthy baby boy.
Their son, whom they named Issa, became the center of their world.
For Mataya, holding her child in her arms was a transformative experience.
She realized she had finally found the balance she had been searching for for so long: a life where her inner strength didn’t define her but helped her protect what she loved.
In this new city, far from rumors and judgment, Mataya had built a peaceful life marked by love and patience.
And resilience—her new family was her greatest victory, proof that it’s always possible to start over, to grow, and to find happiness even after the storms.
A few months after the birth of her son, Issa, Mataya made a big decision: to inform her family of her new life.
She hadn’t had direct contact with them since she left, but she felt the time had come to share her joy with those who had always been there for her.
One evening, Mataya sat by her window, little Issa asleep in her arms, and dialed her mother’s number.
When Zïnab answered, her warm voice, tinged with surprise, filled the air.
“Mom, how’s it going?” a smile broke out in her voice.
“I have wonderful news! I gave birth to a son.
His name is Issa.
I’ve found a stable home, and I’m so happy!” Zïnab, moved, took a moment before replying.
” Mataya, that’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time! Your uncle and I were so worried about you.
Now I can sleep peacefully knowing you’ve found your happiness.
We are all so happy.
” Proud of you, Mataya asked her mother to share the news with her uncle and grandparents.
She wanted the whole family to know that she had overcome her struggles and found stability and love.
The years passed peacefully.
Mataya and David worked hard to raise their son in a stable and loving environment.
Their love, though imperfect, seemed enough to overcome the challenges of daily life.
Then one day, Mataya announced to David that they were expecting a second child.
David, overjoyed, surrounded her with his support, and when a boy, Zaki, was born a few months later, their family grew in joy.
Mataya’s house was filled with laughter and children’s games.
Seven-year-old Issa was protective of his five-year-old brother, Zaki.
Mataya watched her sons grow up with immense pride, convinced that she had finally found the life she had always desired.
But the peace didn’t last.
With time, David changed.
He started hanging out with new friends, men who spent their time in bars.
Drinking and staying out late at night, Mataya quickly noticed this change, but at first she hoped it was just a phase.
However, the deeper David sank into this lifestyle, the more their relationship suffered.
David would often tell him, “Please stop seeing these men.
Drinking is changing you.
Think of our children, think of our home.
” David, however, seemed to ignore her words.
The late nights became a habit, and with them came the arguments.
He would come home at impossible hours, sometimes drunk, speaking harshly to Mataya, accusing her of absurd things.
The David she had loved seemed to disappear, replaced by a man she no longer recognized.
Then one evening, after an argument more violent than the others, David raised his hand to Mataya again.
She felt a wave of pain and anger rising within her, but this time she remained still.
Memories of her past, of her own violent reactions, prevented her from responding.
She looked at David, her eyes filled with sadness more than rage.
“David,” she murmured, “I’ve always respected you, but if.
.
.
” If you continue like this, you’ll destroy everything we’ve built.
The following days were tense.
David, although moved by Mataya’s words, continued to drink and hang out with his friends.
The arguments multiplied, and Mataya, although she didn’t react physically, began to feel trapped in a spiral that reminded her of her own mother’s hardships.
Despite this, she remained strong for her sons every day.
She taught them the value of respect, patience, and resilience.
She knew that their future depended on her ability to maintain a stable home, even in these difficult times.
One evening, as she was putting Zaki to bed, Issa approached her, his eyes full of curiosity and worry.
“Mom,” he asked softly, “why is Dad always angry?” Mataya stopped, tears welling up in her eyes.
She knelt before her son and looked him straight in the eyes.
“Your dad is going through a difficult time, my son, but he loves us, and I ‘m here to protect you and your brother.
Never forget that.
” These words, though spoken to Reassuring her children resonated like a promise to herself; she knew she had to find a way to overcome this ordeal, not only for her children but also for herself.
Mataya was determined not to let the mistakes of the past be repeated.
One sunny afternoon, Issa and Zaki were happily playing football in front of the house.
Their laughter echoed through the neighborhood, and their worn balls bounced against the walls and sidewalks.
Mataya, as usual, was at the market, managing her small business.
David was fast asleep inside after a busy morning.
Issa, full of energy, made a strong pass to his brother, but Zaki, in his enthusiasm, kicked the ball too hard.
It soared into the air and over the neighbor’s fence, landing directly on a clothesline where freshly laundered white clothes were drying peacefully.
The ball bounced off the clothes, leaving dark stains.
A few moments later, a woman rushed out of the neighboring house.
She saw the soiled clothes and immediately shouted, “Hey you over there, why are you playing here? Did you see?” “What you did, you ruined my clothes!” The two boys, intimidated but not wanting to show their fear, began to apologize timidly.
” Sorry, Auntie, we didn’t mean to, it was an accident.
” But the furious woman wouldn’t listen.
She quickly went into her house to inform her husband.
Shortly after, the man, a tall, muscular fellow, came out with a hard expression on his face.
He carried the soiled clothes in his hands, showing them to the children as proof of their crime.
“You, children of Mataya!” he shouted.
” Look what you’ve done! These clothes, you see them? Do you think this is a football pitch?” Issa and Zaki, frightened, lowered their heads.
“Uncle, sorry, we didn’t mean to, it was a mistake.
We won’t do it again.
” But their apologies didn’t calm the man.
With an angry look, he picked up their ball and, before their horrified eyes, took a knife from his pocket and violently pierced it.
The ball, a symbol of their innocent game, deflated with a dull thud.
“There,” he said with satisfaction, “that way you won’t soil my clothes anymore.
” The children, distraught, began to cry.
“Uncle, why are you doing this? Give us back our ball!” sobbed Zaki Issa, trying to retrieve the remains of the ball.
He approached timidly, but the man, in a fit of impatience, raised his hand and lightly slapped the boy to push him away.
“Get out of here before I show you what a real punishment is!” The terrified boys ran towards their house, tears streaming down their cheeks.
They burst into the living room where David was still asleep.
They shook him, crying and talking all at once: ” Dad, Dad, Uncle hit us! He tore our ball! He said we had his clothes on!” David, still groggy, opened his eyes, but as soon as he understood what his children were saying, his anger skyrocketed.
He leaped off the sofa, grabbed his sandals, and left without even thinking.
“Stay here!” he ordered the children.
“I’ll sort this out.
” David rushed to the neighbor’s house.
Finding herself cleaning the soiled clothes, still angry at the sight of David, she looked up, ready to defend her position.
“You there,” David began, his voice full of anger, ” how dare you touch my children? They are not your children! You have no right to hit them!” Indignant, she straightened up.
“And how do you raise your children? They come here, they soil my clothes, and you want me to just watch them act like nothing happened?” ” No, sir! They must learn.
You can talk to them, give them a lesson, but raising your hand to my children and puncturing their ball? No, I cannot tolerate that!” David shouted, approaching her.
“I’m not going to stand here and put up with your lack of discipline! You don’t control your children, so someone else has to!” she replied, straightening up to face David.
The two women, now face to face, exchanged fiery glances.
One defended his children, the other dignity.
The tension rose in the air, and their voices mingled in a noisy exchange that attracted the neighbors.
“It’s not because.
.
.
” “You’re so muscular you think you can get away with anything,” David retorted.
“Just because you’re their father doesn’t mean you can let your children disrespect others,” she added.
The neighbors began to murmur, some trying to intervene, but the two men continued to bicker, their voices growing louder and louder.
The children, hidden behind a wall, watched the scene, trembling and filled with guilt.
The two men were now face to face, their gazes filled with anger and defiance.
Around them, neighbors had gathered, some trying to calm the situation, others fanning the flames.
The muscular neighbor frowned and, in a contemptuous voice, shouted, “You can’t even manage your own children! They’re children! You have to tie them up like animals if you don’t want them to cause damage! And where’s your wife? She’s not even here to supervise these little monsters! If you can’t manage your own house, someone else should, and I.
.
.
” I did it, I corrected them, and if you don’t like it, do what you have to do.
David felt his blood boil; the insults towards his children and wife were the last straw.
Clenching his fists, he retorted, “You think that because you’re strong you can insult my family? My children and my wife deserve your respect, and if you think I’m going to let this go, you’re wrong.
” In a fit of anger, David pushed him forcefully.
The man stepped back, surprised by his audacity, but his wife, who had been watching the scene from their yard, cried out, “What? You’re going to let him do this? He touched you! He pushed you! Show him that we can’t disrespect our home!” The murmurs of the spectators grew louder.
Some were still trying to calm things down, but others were encouraging her.
“Don’t let him do this! Show him what a real man is!” he shouted, under the pressure and enthusiasm of the crowd, carried away by his anger and pride.
David was struck squarely in the face.
He staggered under the impact but tried to fight back.
However, the fight was uneven; the taller, more martial arts-trained David quickly dominated the situation.
David tried to defend himself, but each blow from his opponent disoriented him further.
Issa and Zaki, seeing their father being beaten, cried out, “Stop! Leave our dad! Uncle! Please, leave him!” Their small, heart-rending voices had no effect on the assailant, who continued to strike.
Finally, several neighbors decided to intervene.
They stood between the assailant and helped David to his feet.
His face swollen and his clothes torn, he painfully stood up, humiliated not only by the blows but also by the stares of the spectators, his children, and his own inner reflection.
Supported by two neighbors, David went home in silence.
Issa and Zaki followed him, their faces wet with tears.
They helped him sit down in the living room, but David, too ashamed to face their stares, got up and walked away.
He went straight to the bedroom and closed the door behind him, collapsing onto the bed.
His thoughts swirled: physical pain, public humiliation, and the broken look in his children’s eyes haunted him.
Issa and Zaki stayed in the living room, sobbing softly.
“Why did they do this to Dad?” Zaki murmured.
His brother, though also distraught, tried to comfort him.
“Don’t cry, Zaki.
Mom will be home soon.
She’ll know what to do.
” Around 3 pm, Mataya arrived from the market, her basket full of goods.
As soon as she stepped into the courtyard, she sensed a strange atmosphere.
The usually cheerful children were sitting on the living room floor, tears in their eyes.
She put down her basket and knelt before them, worried.
” Issa, Zaki, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” she asked gently between sobs.
Isa tried to explain.
“Mom, we were playing ball, and it fell into Uncle’s yard.
They punctured our ball, and it hit Dad.
” “Dad is in the bedroom.
” Mataya’s heart sank.
She placed a hand on his side.
Reassuringly, she leaned on her sons’ shoulders and said, ” Stay here, my darlings, I’m going to talk to Daddy.
” She headed towards the bedroom, knocking softly before entering.
David was sitting on the bed, staring at the floor.
His clothes were torn, and his face, marked by the necks, told the whole story.
Mataya entered slowly, closing the door behind her.
“David,” she said softly, but with a hint of firmness, “tell me what happened.
” David looked up at her, his face filled with shame, but before answering, he sensed that the conversation that was about to begin would be much more than a simple recounting of the incident.
In the dim light of their room, David, still hurt and humiliated, explained everything to Mataya.
He told her the story from the beginning: the children’s ball, the soiled clothes, so-and-so’s anger, and finally the confrontation.
But when David began to describe so-and-so’s insulting words when he had called their children dogs and insinuated that Mataya was an irresponsible mother, something changed in Mataya’s eyes—an intense glare mixed with anger and A look of determination crossed her face.
“He dared to insult my children, calling them animals! I don’t want anything from them!” she cried, jumping to her feet.
“And he laid a hand on you! Today he’ll feel me! Today I’ll show him he can’t get away with this!” David jumped up to stop her, placing a hand on her arm.
“Mataya, forget it! I’ve already fought him.
He’s too strong.
He does martial arts.
This isn’t a good idea.
Let God handle this.
” But Mataya pulled away firmly.
“No, David, this isn’t normal.
It’s not a question of fighting or not.
I have to tell him the hard truth.
You can’t stop me.
” David insisted, trying to hold her back.
” Leave Mataya alone.
It’s no use.
He’s arrogant, and it will only make things worse.
” Mataya looked him straight in the eyes, her voice calm but resolute.
“David, I love you, but this time you have to trust me.
” She headed towards the door, giving Firm instructions to her children: Issa Zaki, stay here, don’t leave the house.
When she arrived at [name omitted], she crossed the courtyard without hesitation.
[Name omitted]’s wife, sitting under a mango tree, saw her approaching with determination.
Mataya, her face hard, immediately snapped, “Hey you! Where is the brute who dared to insult my family and hit my husband? Where is he?” [Name omitted], outraged by this impolite entrance, stood up.
” Are you serious? Are you impolite or what? You enter my property without greeting me and you dare call my husband a brute? You want your punishment? Is that it? Your husband has already had his share, and you want me to deal with you too?” Mataya ignored her words, her gaze fixed on the house.
“Madam, I’m not here for you.
I want to see your foolish Marie.
Stay out of this.
” But [Name omitted], furious, approached her.
” You’re in my house and you want to talk to me like that? You think I’m going to let you insult me in my [home/private home]?” In her own yard, she raised her hand, but before she could place it on Mataya, the latter seized it with a swift and controlled movement.
In a fraction of a second, Mataya lifted the woman and threw her against a wall as if she weighed nothing.
The woman fell heavily, stunned.
” Stay lying down over there,” Mataya said icily.
“If you get up, you’ll feel me.
I’m not here for you.
Call your husband.
Where are you? Get out of here, you son of Marie!” The shouts attracted neighbors who began to gather around the property.
Hearing the cries and realizing something was wrong, he came out of the house, sending his wife to the ground.
Mataya stood there with a defiant look.
He frowned.
” Madam,” he said sharply, “you are in my home.
A little respect, please.
” Mataya burst out laughing.
“Respect? You insulted my children, my husband, and you dare speak of respect? Repeat what you said about my family here in front of everyone!” ” I think that because you’re muscular and do martial arts you can get away with anything,” she said.
Irritated by the neighbors’ attention, he replied curtly, “Get out of my yard! I don’t want any drama here!” ” I’m not moving,” Mataya retorted.
“If you ‘re a man, come here and show me what you’re made of!” Humiliated by the turn of events, she felt compelled to act.
She approached Mataya, her muscles tense.
“Madam, get out of my house or I’ll have to throw you out myself!” But when he put his hand on her to push her away, he realized he had made a grave mistake.
Mataya grabbed his wrist with a steely grip.
Surprised, she tried to break free, but she felt a force she never thought possible in a woman.
Before she could react, Mataya, in a fluid movement, lifted him from the ground like a sack of corn and threw him violently to the ground.
She crashed heavily, stunned, while a stunned silence fell.
The crowd enveloped the neighbors gathered around the stage, watching in astonishment as this seemingly frail woman overpowered a muscular, well- trained man.
Still on the ground, he felt the burning sensation of humiliation seep into every fiber of his being.
He looked up and met the astonished gazes of the spectators.
He saw in their expressions not only disbelief but also barely concealed mockery.
This woman had ridiculed him, the giant of the neighborhood! Furious, he jumped to his feet, his face contorted with anger.
He quickly brushed the dust from his clothes and pointed at Mataya.
“You think it’s over?” she growled, her voice trembling with rage.
“Even if you’re a woman, I’ll show you that you can’t humiliate me in front of everyone like this.
” Mataya, calm but still alert, watched him straighten up, his fists clenched.
She didn’t move; her eyes were fixed on him as if to silently say, ” Try it and you’ll see the crowd circle around you.
” Some of them held their breath; some murmured that Tell would retaliate, others warned that he’d better give up.
But Tell’s pride was too wounded for him to back down.
Tell charged violently, his movements swift and precise, characteristic of a man trained in martial arts.
He launched a powerful punch towards Mataya, but she dodged with astonishing agility before he could even follow up.
Mataya countered with blows that flew at lightning speed.
One, two, three strikes landed squarely in his chest, disorienting him before he could catch his breath.
A right hook slammed into his face, followed by another to the stomach.
Tell staggered, surprised by Mataya’s brute force, a force that seemed to come from nowhere.
The martial arts he had mastered stood no chance against this unpredictable speed and power.
“I warned you,” Mataya said coldly, striking again.
“You can’t insult my family and get away with it.
” Tell tried to defend himself.
But every attempt at a counter-attack was immediately neutralized by Mataya.
She completely overpowered him, his experience and arrogance shattering under her blows.
Finally, in a last effort, he tried to grab her and throw her to the ground, but Mataya, with impressive skill, tossed him over again.
He collapsed to the ground a second time, completely defeated.
Meanwhile, Issa and Zaki, who had stayed in the house, heard the shouts and commotion coming from the courtyard.
Curious and worried, they approached to see what was happening.
Seeing their mother standing dominantly in the middle of the crowd, facing T on the ground, they understood there was a problem.
Seized by panic, the boys didn’t realize their mother was in control of the situation.
They ran as fast as they could to the house to alert their father.
Breathless, they rushed into the living room, shouting, “Dad, come quick! Mom’s being beaten up at Uncle Tel’s! They’re going to hurt her! Come quick!” David, who was still resting, jumped up and grabbed Quickly, the machete placed near the door, his thoughts flooded by the idea that his wife was in danger, he ran out, machete in hand, without taking the time to ask questions.
“Stay here!” he shouted.
“I ‘ll take care of this!” The whole neighborhood seemed to be in turmoil as David ran towards Tel’s house, machete in one hand, fear and anger in his heart.
But he still had no idea what he would find there.
When he arrived near the crowd gathered in front of Tel’s house, murmurs and shouts rose from all sides.
The neighbors, captivated by the scene, seemed to hesitate between intervening or simply observing.
Seeing David running towards them armed with his machete, several people immediately tried to calm him down.
“David, calm down!” cried a man, stepping in front of him.
“What are you doing with that machete? I’ll finish him off!” yelled David, his eyes wild with anger.
He thinks he’s the strongest here.
How dare he hit my wife today? I’ll show him what a real man is.
I’ll cut him off! Another neighbor, holding David by the arm, tried to explain.
David, wait, you’re wasting your time.
It’s not your wife who’s being hit, it’s her who’s teaching so-and-so a lesson.
David stopped dead in his tracks, breathless.
“What?” he asked incredulously.
“My wife is hitting so-and-so?” “Yes,” replied an impressed man.
“She’s giving him a beating he won’t forget.
Even we don’t understand how a woman can fight like that.
We’re afraid to intervene because she might turn on us.
We don’t know where her strength comes from.
” David, stunned, felt his anger dissipate, replaced by a profound curiosity.
The neighbors took the knife from his hands to avoid any incident, then encouraged him to get closer to see what was happening.
David slowly made his way through the crowd and entered so-and-so’s courtyard, where he discovered.
.
.
a scene that.
.
.
He was speechless.
The tall, muscular, and self-assured man sat on the ground, his clothes in tatters, his face dirty and covered in dust.
A few meters away, his wife, equally defeated, crouched against a wall, her head bowed as if she still didn’t understand what had happened.
And there, standing in the center of the courtyard, was Mataya.
She was straight and imposing, her gaze fixed and piercing on him.
Her dress was slightly torn and dusty, but she seemed indifferent to her appearance.
She spoke in a strong, confident voice, capturing everyone’s attention.
“Listen to me carefully,” she said, pointing a finger at him.
“This is the last time you dare insult my family, touch my children, or lay a hand on my husband.
Next time, I promise you won’t end up on the ground like today, but straight to the hospital.
You think your arrogance and muscles make you invincible? You’ve just seen what’s really going on.
” He, his head bowed, said nothing.
He was clearly too humiliated to reply.
The crowd around him was Speechless with admiration and astonishment, no one would have imagined that Mataya, this seemingly ordinary woman, possessed such power and audacity.
David timidly advanced through the crowd, still reeling from what he had seen.
He approached Mataya, who glanced at him.
This was not the look of an enraged woman, but that of a woman who had protected her family and restored her honor.
She gave him a slight nod, as if to say that everything was under control.
David looked around, then lowered his gaze to Telle.
He couldn’t help but feel a strange satisfaction, though a mixture of shame and pride overwhelmed him.
He took a deep breath and, in an almost trembling voice, said, ” Mataya, let’s go home.
” After casting one last glance at Telle, Mataya turned to the crowd and declared, “You all saw what happened here.
I didn’t come looking for a fight, but sometimes you have to answer those who think they can get away with anything.
Let this be a lesson.
Respect my family, and I will respect them.
” She turned on her heel and left the courtyard, David at her side.
The murmurs of the crowd accompanied them, but none stopped them.
They went home, leaving her alone with her shame and her wounds under the compassionate gazes of her neighbors.
As David and Mataya walked slowly toward their house, the silence between them was heavy with unasked questions.
Night was falling gently, and only the distant sounds of neighbors and children still playing in the alleyways broke the air.
David, his head full of questions, could finally no longer contain himself.
He turned to Mataya, looking at her with an expression both confused and amazed.
Mataya, how did he do it? Her voice hesitant.
How is it possible? How could you, a woman, neutralize her like that? I couldn’t even stand a minute in front of him.
Are there things you’ve hidden from me? Her gaze stopped, meeting her husband’s.
She sighed as if carrying a burden she had long avoided sharing.
David, she said softly, I am “I’m sorry, yes, there are things I’ve never told you, but it’s time you knew.
” She began to tell him her life story.
She spoke of her childhood, her native village, the strength she had acquired thanks to the battle totem.
She explained how her uncle, with the help of a master of traditions, had bestowed this power upon her so that she would never be a victim like her mother had been.
She told him of the trials she had endured, the men he had feared or rejected, and the rumors he had pursued.
“I decided to leave that life,” she continued.
“I came here to start over, to be someone new.
When I met you, I loved you for your simplicity, for the way you looked at me without judgment, and that’s why I chose to hide this part of myself from you.
I wanted a peaceful life, a normal life.
” David listened, his heart clenching as he understood everything his wife had been through, but a burning question came to his mind.
Mataya, when I hit you, when I came home drunk and mistreated you, why did you never act? Why didn’t you push me away, you who possess such strength? Mataya lowered her eyes for a moment, then raised her head, her eyes filled with tenderness.
Because I love you, David.
I chose to be a submissive wife, to respect you as a man and a husband.
My strength isn’t there to destroy our home.
I wanted you to be my husband, the father of my children, without this hidden nature taking over.
But today, you know, all I want is for you to understand that I never saw you as a threat, not even in your worst moments.
My love for you is greater than my strength.
These words struck David like lightning.
He remained motionless and silent as tears began to well up in his eyes.
He remembered the times he had raised his hand to her, the hurtful words he had said to her, the nights when he had preferred drunkenness to the peace of his home.
All of this flashed before his eyes.
He finally understood the extent of Mataya’s love for him, he whispered, his voice trembling, “I don’t deserve you.
You endured everything, gave everything, and I mistreated you.
I’m an idiot, but I promise you it will never happen again.
” He paused for a moment, tears streaming down his cheeks.
” Today I understand that I was lucky, lucky that you stayed, lucky that you loved me despite my flaws.
But I will never be that man again.
I will change, Mataya.
I will become the husband and father that you and our children deserved.
” Mataya, moved, placed a hand on his shoulder.
“David, you don’t need to beat yourself up.
What matters is that we move forward together, leaving the past behind us.
I love you and I believe in you.
” From that day on, David stopped drinking.
He put all his energy into becoming a responsible man, a loving father, and a caring husband.
The incident with Tel became a turning point in their lives, a reminder of the trials they had endured, but also of the strength of Their love and their home found a new harmony.
Issa and Zaki grew up in an environment of respect and understanding, admiring their father for his efforts and their mother for her courage.
Mataya and David, united by a shared truth, lived a life marked by love, forgiveness, and the determination to build a better future.
Thus, in this small corner of the city, Mataya finally found what she had sought all her life: peace, not only in her home but also in her heart.
And for the first time, she allowed herself to believe that this peace would last.
