african stories · sketch · the daily post

The Truth Teller

Wanjiru frowned and walked away sulkily from the kitchen. Once again she had received a tongue lashing from her mother. ‘You need to watch that sharp mouth of yours’ she had said. ‘How will find a husband?’ Eh?’ she had continued. Then she went on to remind her that sharp tongued women did not make good wives. She did not argue with her mother for she knew how that always ended. Instead she ventured over to her grandmother who sat on the veranda chewing tobacco. ‘You know, she’s wrong’ her grandmother said to her as she sat on the ground next to her. ‘Don’t bend the truth to make others happy. It never serves you or them in the end’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t forgive you if you ended up with that little twit.’ Wanjiru had spurned the attention of the village chief’s obnoxious only son in front of his friends. When she told her grandmother how he had scurried back to his father’s compound and locked himself inside the chicken coop, they both laughed uncontrollably.




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