Musukuta lived in a three-bedroom,  self-contained house, with well manicured
grass lawns, and well trimmed flowers  surrounding the building. Pa Ali
rented the house for her after they were  married. The house was lavishly
furnished, and Musukuta had two maids. One  of the maids cleaned every nook and corner
of the house each morning, and did  the laundry. The other maid did the
cooking for her. The watchman looked after  the compound, at night and in the
morning, and also watered the plants and  flowers. Pa Ali bought a second hand
Mercedez Benz 190 that Musukuta used to run  her many errands, and also to ferry
little Burama to and from nursery  school.

        Musukuta engaged herself in a  lot of activities after Pa Ali left
for America. She was a member of a Daira  group, a religious organisation formed
by Alhagie Omar. She was a member  of a couple of women societies, and an
active member of the Setsettal  group. The Setsettal group organized weekly
cleaning activities around the  neighborhood. Musukuta kept herself constantly
busy. She was running away  from her loneliness; she was running away from all
those thoughts of missing her  husband that always assailed her. It was over a
year now since her husband left,  and although she lacked nothing and did have
everything that she could dream of,  she missed her husband a lot. She wished
they were together.

        "Wow Musu, what does the man say  now? When are you going over? I
know it must be hard for you. But whenever  you need me I am around. If you don't
mind we can go to the club this saturday,"  a friend of Pa Ali told her.

         "Yow nah, you don't  want to look at anybody else; you just want to
look at your man," another friend  of Pa Ali said to her.

         Knowing that her  husband was away, the men were coming after her
like vultures hovering over a  rotten carcass. Some of the men she knew, but
others were complete strangers.  Her beauty, her grace and her elegance seemed to
be a magnet that drew all these  men to her.

        One day, as she left the gas  station, a man followed Musukuta to her
residence. The man saw an incomplete  structure in the compound; an
unfinished building project that her landlord  started on the other side of the
compound. The man then found the perfect excuse  to enter the compound.

         "I saw this house that you  are building and would like to rent it
for my business partner," the man told  Musukuta. "He will be arriving from
Europe in a months time. He is a European. I  see that the house is not complete
yet; no problem. I can complete it within a  month."

       "I am not the one building the house.  It is my landlord," Musukuta
said.

       "It doesn't matter. I can build  one for you. If you want I can even
change the car that you drive. Tomorrow I  can bring you the keys for a brand
new car," the man said. "I have done this in  secret for many women. Even those
thar are married."

        Musukuta was at a lost for  words. Who was this man? She looked
accross to the street, and parked in front  of her compound gate was a shiny,
silver-colored brand new Pajero. The man  noticed her seeming interest, and beaming
he said:

       "I can get you a similar one like  that. I will bring the keys for you
tomorrow."

       "I am not interested in your offer,"  Musukuta said, calmly. "I will
tell the landlord about your proposal for his  building. I will get an answer
for you."

        The man left and returned the  next day with another brand new car.
He had a briefcase stacked with newly  printed banknotes. He entered the
compound with his flowing Waramba.

        "What did your landlord say?"  the man asked Musukuta. "I have
brought five thousand dalasis as a down payment  for the rent. I will commence the
completion of the building immediately."

        "I haven't seen the landlord  yet. It was just yesterday that you
came here," Musukuta said.

         "I can leave the money  with you. No, you can take it," the man
struggled with his words. "I just want  you to be nice to me. I will take good
care of you."

         When Musukuta became aware  of the man's hidden intentions, she
became furious.

        "Do you know me?" she asked,  angrily. "How then can you walk into my
compound offering me the moon and stars,  and insulting my integrity by
having the audacity to tell me this nonsense. Get  out of my compound right now,
and don't ever come here again." She chased the  man out of the compound.

        At the gym where she trained,  another man followed her as she walked
to her car.

        "I noticed that you come here  often. I also come here everytime to
train. Do you realized that you are a very  beautiful woman? I hope you are not
married?" the man asked.

       "Of course, I am married. My husband  is in America," Musukuta said.

       "Well, I wish you were not married.  Anyway, if it is not a problem
can you have dinner with me. You can give me  your cell phone number. I will
call you," the man said.

        "I can give you my number. I  just cannot go out with you. I am a
married woman," Musukuta told him, politely.

        When Pa Ali called her, Musukuta  narrated all these incidents to
him.

        "You have to take me out of  here," she told Pa Ali, in their
telephone conversation. "Everyone is trying to  take advantage of me. Including your
friends."

         "I am quite secured with  your sincerity and faithfulness," Pa Ali
said over the phone. "That is the  reason I don't worry much about you."

        "Don't take advantage of that  yourself, and just leave me here.
Although you are providing me with everything,  don't you understand that I missed
you too. I am also human and I have  feelings. I am trying my darnest to
resist all these temptations," Musukuta  said.

         Musukuta started to work  on her own, when it became evident to her
that Pa Ali was taking too long to  take her to America. She talked to people
who could help her.

         "I have another ticket for  a convention I am attending in Ghana.
You can travel with me for this  convention. The stamp that you have on your
passport can help in your visa  application," a bank executive, who was
interested in a relationship with her,  told Musukuta.

         "I can give you the money  to go on a business trip to Dubai. You
don't have to pay me back after all your  goods are sold," another gentleman
offered.

         When it became  apparent that all these men wanted something from
her, Musukuta relied on  her own efforts. She applied for a visa on her own and
was lucky. She was  granted a six months visitors visa. She kept this as a
secret. She didn't even  tell her husband. The only person she told was her
mother.

           Musukuta  discreetly made her plans to travel to America. She
bought two South Africa  airline tickets; one for herself, and the other for her
son. She would fly to  Kennedy airport in New York, and then board a Delta
airline plane to  Logan's airport in Boston. She was excited about the prospects
of Pa Ali meeting  his son; little Burama was now two years old.

        Musukuta had taken extra  preparations for the journey. A well known
Senegalese hair  stylist braided her hair. She had also lost a few pounds with
her intense  physical training regime; she now looked slimmer and ten years
younger. She had  an intricate headtie, a grand African outfit, when she made
her joyful  entry in the US  on a humid summer mid-afternoon.

        It was on Friday, and shortly  after the South Africa airline landed
at Kennedy airport, Musukuta  was again enroute aboard a Delta Airline plane
to Logan's airport in  Boston. Little Burama was sleeping. He had slept most of
the journey from Dakar  to New York.

        Before the plane landed in  Boston, Musukuta briefly thought about
what she had done. Here she was about to  land in Boston with her son. She was
to meet her husband who had no idea, not  the faintest clue, that she was
coming to meet him. She had not seen her husband  for two years, and the only
things she had with her was his residence address  and his telephone number. Also,
this was her first time to travel to America.  She knew nobody here except a
cousin who live in New York. She had the phone  number and home address of her
cousin tucked safely in her purse, just in case.

         Musukuta pulled her two  suitcases by their strings with one hand,
and held the hand of little Buruma  with the other. The suitcases were not
heavy. She had decided to travel very  lightly given that she was travelling with
a child. At the welcome lounge,  a burly man offered to help her with her
luggage to the taxi stand outside.

       Musukuta sat comfortably at the back  of the taxi, and held little
Buruma to her chest. She gave the taxi driver the  address for the Brighton area
residence where Pa Ali was staying. She took  little interest in the beautiful
scenery, and the expansive highway, as the taxi  driver sped past. All her
thought were consumed with the initial reaction when  she stood before her
husband. She had to prepare herself for the big surprise;  the gasping look that
would contort her husband's face. She would appear to him  as a wonka, a kind of
insect llike a spider, that showed up in the middle of the  dry season.

       "Here we are young woman," the taxi  driver said. "The house is that
grey building on your right. You are a very  beautiful woman. Where are you
from?"

        "Just arriving from the Gambia  to meet my husband," Musukuta said,
broadly smiling to the taxi driver.

         "Welcome to the states.  Enjoy your stay" the taxi driver said. He
helped Musukuta with her luggage  into the building.

         Musukuta stood outside the  door of the apartment and hesistated for
a while before she rang the bell.  Nobody came to open the door. She rang the
bell again. May be Pa Ali was not  home, she thought. She would have to sit
against the door and wait until he  comes home. While she was embroiled in her
thoughts, the door of the apartment  slowly opened. Instead of seeing her
husband, Musukuta saw a beautiful,  light-skinned, black American girl who stood
at the door. Her long black hair  supinely rested over her neck.

        Brianna curiously looked at  Musukuta and then at the child standing
besides her. She took a furtive glance  at the luggages, and then back at
Musukuta again.

         "What do you want?" she  asked, confused. She was wearing a
transparent pink negligee loosely tied to her  waist.

         "It must be a mistake..."  Musukuta started to babble. As she turned
to walk away, holding little Buruma's  hand, a familiar face appeared at the
door in boxer's shorts. Pa Ali almost  missed a breath when he recognized her.
He gasped. Musukuta blinked her eyes.  She blinked again.

     "It couldn't be him," she said, very, very softly.

      "What did you say?" Brianna asked, searching  Musukuta's face. She then
turned around and looked at Pa Ali. He had a puzzled  look all over his face.

      "What? Do you know this woman?" Brianna  asked Pa Ali. She had an ugly
grimaced all ovr her face.

       "This dirty pig is my husband,"  Musukuta quietly answered the
question for her.

        "That is a lie," Brianna started  to scream. "What the f...k. You
never told me that you have a wife."

         "And a son, too," Musukuta  interjected.

         "This woman will not  stay here. You lousy son of a b.... ," Brianna
shouted. She shoved Pa Ali back  into the apartment.

          "You can have him  for all I cared," Musukuta started to say, as
the door was rudely slammed  on her face.

            She had  the yelling and screaming, as she pulled her son along
and started to walk away  from the building. The commotion at the apartment was
getting louder and louder.  There appeared to be the shattering of glasses.
Musukuta was lucky to pick  another taxi as soon as she stood at the curb of
the street, a few distance from  the apartment. She could still hear the
screaming.

           "Take me to  the train station," Musukuta told the taxi driver. As
she sat on the back of the  taxi, she consoled her son who was now bitterly
crying.

           At the train  station, Musukuta briefly left her luggage
unattended, as she frantically tried  to place a phone call to New York. She called her
cousin and informed him  that she was taking the train back to New York. She
was so distraught to explain  what had happened. When she went back to her
luggage, one of the bags was  stolen.

          Musukuta was  desperately looking around for her luggage. Everyone
else was busy taking care  of their business. An elderly porter noticed how
frantically she was looking  around.

          "What is it, ma'am?  Did you loose something?" the porter asked.

           "My bag. It is  my bag," Musukuta answered, sullenly.

           "In the  station here, you don't leave your luggage unattended,"
the porter said. "Go to  the office over there and report the incident."


                                              THE  END.

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