The Crow Always Wants More

By Vincent Mabutho

Lydia is entangled in a turbulent and complex relationship she struggles to save. She is torn between right and wrong and has to decide between love and lust. This riveting tale, set in Metropolitan Zimbabwe, explores the themes of greed, lust, witchcraft and murder. Secrecy and mystery drive this plot and the actions of its characters. However, some people's actions are more consequential than others. Will the crow get his fair share as expected or will he get…

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Bartholomew Desmond De La Croix
• Release date: Dec 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201830625

Vincent Mabutho

Vincent is a new kid on the block setting out to carve a niche out of genuine African Stories which are relatable all around the world. He explores the complexities of people and their relationships and the extent to which their behaviours are influenced.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Acrow stood on a branch over-looking a hardware shop back entrance. Without a sound, it fluttered and flew away. The shop was closing and the security guard was waiting at the gate as the Manager, Mrs Mutema was locking the last padlock.

‘Member!’ she called out to the guard, ‘Help me with the last lock, its not locking very well.’ Member hurridly and vigourously held the bar such that he took the weight off Mrs Mutema’s hand and he was left holding the metal frame by himself. He motioned to her to hand him the padlock, which she did with a tinge of skepticism. He took the lock and in one motion he managed to align the lock holes and slotted the padlock and locked it in with a smooth ‘kachink’. He gave the lock a yank to reassure himself that it was indeed secure. Mrs Mutema would have never have done it like that, she usually takes a good 30 minutes just to align the latches. She was more relieved than impressed, after all, he was just a security guard who had started working there. She gave him an assured smile of false gratitude, clapsed her handbag and made her way to the car. He took a second to appreciate her move towards her vehicle. Her hour glass shape gracefully flowing towards her car in the back drop of the reddish orange late afternoon sun drew his attention and appreciation.

Mrs Mutema slumped into the driver’s seat and let her head land on the head rest. She waited a second then leaned forward and folded down the overhead mirror. She looked at herself for a second nodded her head and banged back the mirror. She put on her seat belt, started her Mercedes and gradually drove out of her parking space into the Harare traffic bustle. She was not really happy. She hadn’t been happy for a while. It was that man of her’s... was he really her’s? This was because he was married, but not to her, but she endured 4 of his Miscarriages. That greyness irked her. He was supportive financially and sexually but he was no longer romantically active. Despite ‘coming’ to see her every fortnight to relieve his pent up amorous tension, he was never really there. His visits were no longer sleep overs. At one point he left after just finishing the 1st round. He had gotten back into his clothes faster than he had taken them off. She felt cheap and used. That was the cost of being the other woman.

When she got home she slumped into the nearest sofa as if all the life had been drained out of her. Her mind took her back to the events of the night before. Tendai had come over at 11 pm and they had a heated argument.

‘Leave her!’ said Mrs Mutema with a conviction laced with passion.

‘Never, besides I still have children with her. Some of them are still going to school’, Tendai retorted.

‘I will take care of them as if they were my own, they are my own!’ Mrs Mutema landed her head onto Tendai heavy built chest and wrapped her hands around him as if to gain warmth and sympathy from her man.

With spite and annoyance Tendai wriggled out of her clutches and pointed his right hand finger to her face and said:

‘Your own? Why can’t you have children of your own? It’s miscarriage after miscarriage I am no longer sure if these unborn children are even mine. Perhaps that is why they aren’t surviving or maybe your killing them’

‘How can you ...’ said Mrs Mutema holding back a heavy tear.

‘I can say...’, interjected Tendai, ‘...whatever the hell I want to say. I have done so much for you and all I want from you is a son. I paid twice the going rate for your bride price, I have given you wealth that girls of your caliber fantasize about. This house I bought with my own money, something none of your ancestors could do with all their poverty put together.’

Mrs Mutema fell to the floor in a calm controlled wail.

‘Lydia, do not think you are special. Your presence here is merely a courtesy anyone else can be afforded.’

‘How can you say that. All I want is for us to be together forever. I want to be by your side. Tendai is that wrong? Wanting to be with the man of my life. I want to be seen as your true love. I also want to get married. My mother deserves...’ said Lydia with a hiccupy and breathy voice as the tears streamed down her face.

‘Marriage, now we are getting somewhere. I see your silly statuses about Hubby this hubby that. We will walk the aisle soon. Let not asunder what what. Rubbish! Who do you think you are going to make happy with a wedding? Your mother? She is dead. All she will see are the 4 walls of the coffin that I bought for her. Marriage is all you want. Indeed’

Tendai marched to the door and Lydia grabbed him so that he could stay.

‘Tendai why would you say such hurtful things? Is it wrong form me to want this for myself for us and our unborn children?’ her wail had now become a whimper with her tears running down her face.

‘Lydia...’ said Tendai facing away from her, ‘Lydia, people say that the crow is content with the scraps but I think that the crow is smart enough to know that that is all he is going to get.’ He wriggled out of her clutch, picked up his jacket by the sofa and stormed out of the house.

Lydia fell by the floor at the door and started to wail in the disbelief of the horrid things that Tendai had said. The cool breeze blew into her house as if to comfort her in her ordeal.

Back to her in the sofa. She tried to make sense of what last night meant.

‘ Was I crow?’ she asked herself trying to think what it was that this man really had a hold on her. She can’t remember if it was his charm, his money or because he was a well built older gentleman.