He returned to Kures thinking hard. If he had to prevail against Becky, he needed to attack her at her vulnerable spot. But identifying the spot was the tough nut to crack.
As he contemplated this, an idea sprouted in his brain: infidelity.
If he could represent Becky as an unfaithful wife, he could have his way. The clan would not condone infidelity. A sweet emotion rushed up at him. But it was short-lived . He realized that the idea was not fully formed. With whom would he accuse her of being unfaithful?
Before he could think through the inherent shortcomings in this plan, two young women came into view each laden with a barrel of water.
Pabonya recognized them: Chebet and Chepkorir. They had something he could leverage on to put his idea into a practical shape: both of them were reputed gossipers of the village. He would only need to strike a matchstick, drop it on the dry grass and watch the forest burst into flames.
"Hey! How are you?" Pabonya stopped them.
Both women stopped, straightened their necks to look at him. "We are fine."
"Is it well with your families?"
"It is well."
"I have just this morning been treated to some saddening news."
"News?" Chepkorir had taken to responding to most of the questions.
"A word getting around; seems like Becky is turning into a dirty woman."
"What!" the two women exclaimed in surprise.
"You are shocked! I found it hard to believe too. But she is having an affair!" With that, he knew he the matchstick was lit.
"We have not heard anything like that," Chebet said.
He feigned disappointment. "I expected you would know."
A long pause followed. Then he said "Perhaps you could help me verify this; find out if there is any truth to it." It was important not to appear so keen with this.
"We will try," they promised.
With that, they parted ways.
He had set the ball rolling, recruited them into his silent war against Becky. Charged with what he had planted he felt certain they would not keep their mouths shut.
He resumed his walk home as the women continued on their journey to deliver water. Each of them still in doubt about the truth of what had just been relayed.
"Do you believe him?" Chebet inquired of her friend.
"As very unlikely as it sounds, I wish it was true."
"Me too."They both laughed."That woman is too proud," said Chebet.
Becky had become a subject of envy and jealousy among some women in the village. Not because she had openly wronged any of them, but because she had dared to defy the conservative insistence on the traditional code of dressing. Because she seemed to enjoy special liberties and carried herself with independent air. She wore miniskirts, high-heeled shoes, and polished her fingernails. At times she painted her lips red. Her ears were pierced, and sometimes she hung earrings on them. She was always elegantly dressed in fancy clothes. Even those aspiring to dress like here found the clothes hard to come by in the local market.
Becky was distinctive. While every other woman covered her head with a scarf, Becky's long hair fell down her shoulders in shiny waves. She seemed to have everything she wanted.
A moment later, the two women came to a crossroads and paused briefly before parting ways. They agreed to meet again at Esther's house—the newest mother in the village—whose baby would be marking its seventh day.
The village was already stirring with anticipation. It would be more than a simple visit; it was a celebration woven deep into their tradition. On the seventh day after a birth, women gathered to bless the newborn and honor the mother's strength. They came bearing small tokens of care—water, bundles of firewood, gourds of milk, a little sugar or anything one could spare.
There would be laughter and chatter.
That afternoon, Chepkorir stepped out of her house, a carrier bag in hand. She walked to the water barrel she had left outside in the morning and checked that the lid was fastened tight. Satisfied, she bent slightly, gripped the robe, and eased it onto her back with practiced care. Adjusting the strap across her shoulders, she set off down the footpath toward Esther's homestead
When she arrived, several bundles of firewood lay scattered around the kitchen house — an indication that many women had come. There was a huge drum by the wall, and several empty barrels lay nearby. She walked to the drum and, lowering her water barrel, emptied it. Done, she left the empty barrel near the door, where she could easily pick it up later.
She stepped into the noisy room. After exchanging cheerful greetings with the smiling women, she handed her gift to the waiting midwife. She was shown to an empty chair, and soon a cup was set before her.
She stretched out her hand to a pot nearby, filled her cup to the brim, and waited for the tea to cool before taking a tiny sip. She enjoyed the robust sweetness while keeping her ears tuned to the conversation, hoping to catch a hint that Pabonya's rumor had proliferated into the realm of village gossip.
But none of it came up. The women were only talking about the baby — whether he resembled the mother or the father.
Then Chebet arrived, and Chepkorir felt suddenly emboldened to broach the subject, now that she had someone to back her. She wore the crown of the first to know and the first to tell with pride and wasn't about to relinquish that it now.
"So, you ladies haven't heard!" she exclaimed, her voice rising above the chatter just as Chebet settled opposite her. "I've got some thrilling news for you."
"And what have you been waiting for? Crack it up," one of the women urged, leaning forward with a teasing grin.
"I thought you were already privy to it—and expected it to come up as one of the main topics here. But I've sat and heard nothing." She glanced at Chebet, who motioned for her to carry on.
"We are running out of patience," another woman said, half-laughing.
"You wouldn't believe it," Chepkorir said, lowering her voice dramatically. "Becky is having an affair."
With that, she had their full attention. Faces turned toward her, expressions mixing awe and disbelief.
"No way!" someone protested.
"What are you saying?" another exclaimed.
Most were genuinely shocked; others seemed almost pleased, as if gossip itself were nourishment.
"Chepkorir is right," Chebet added, eager to contribute. "I heard the same thing earlier today—from Becky's father-in-law himself. You should have seen how so disturbed he looked."
"That's not possible," Esther objected. "That can't be Becky. There must be a misunderstanding."
A long debate followed. Gradually, some were persuaded it could indeed be true.
"And who is he?" someone challenged.
"Pardon?" Chepkorir asked—not because she hadn't heard, but she was hesitant to admit her lack of details.
"The man involved in the affair?"
"That part," she admitted with a shrug, "remains a mystery."
While they were still talking, one woman caught sight of Becky approaching through the gate.
"Hey!" she hissed. "Stop it—she's coming."
"Who!"
"Becky!"
All eyes turned toward the entrance. Silence fell as she drew nearer. She carried neither firewood nor a water barrel—only a large bundle tied with a leso across her back. She crossed the threshold and stepped inside.
They welcomed her; some rushed to help her with the load while others watched in uneasy silence. The midwife took the bundle away as Becky sat down and was handed a cup of tea.
But the hush that had fallen moments earlier made her suspicious. She could feel their eyes on her, aware that the chatter had died the instant she entered the compound. Still, she brushed it aside, convincing herself it was nothing.
Gradually, the conversation picked up again, drifting to safer topics. Laughter returned, though faint and forced. When the tea was finally finished, the women began to disperse one by one.
Esther turned her attention to the gifts, her eyes lingering on the large carton Becky had brought. She opened it—and gasped. Inside were several changes of baby clothes, a full pack of diapers, soft shawls, bars of soap, detergents, packets of juice, and foodstuffs. It was more than she could have hoped for. She realized she wouldn't need to buy anything for weeks. A wave of guilt swept through her—regret for having joined the others in their unkind talk.
With the help of the midwife, she carried the gifts to the main house. When they returned to the kitchen house, they heard footsteps approaching.
A late guest had arrived: Rebecca.
"Better late than never," Rebecca said warmly as they greeted each other.
"You must have had a busy day," Esther remarked.
"I went to Kures," Rebecca replied. "My sister was discharged yesterday."
"Leah had been sick? I didn't know."
"She's up and about now. Soon she'll be off medication."
"Come in," Esther invited.
Rebecca sat down, and like the others before her, was served tea. Amid their small talk, Esther hesitated, then asked quietly, "What is it with your daughter-in-law?"
"Becky?"
"Yes. The women who were here earlier—they were talking."
Rebecca grew alert.
"I know none of it is true," Esther went on quickly, "but I didn't like what they said. Becky isn't the type to have an affair."
Rebecca froze, her mind reeling. For a moment, she thought Esther was referring to that quarrel with Pabonya.
"I see you're shocked," Esther said gently. "I was shocked too. I wonder where it's coming from."
"I can't believe it," Rebecca murmured. "She did it with who?"
"That's the big question."
A strange heaviness settled over Rebecca. Even the tea tasted different now. She forced herself to finish the cup, then rose to leave. Esther urged her to stay for dinner, but she declined.
As she made her way home, her thoughts churned. Each step deepened her unease, the rumor echoing in her mind like a curse that refused to fade.