My Uncle Made A Bed For Us In Exchange Of Our Babies

I remember the first dream quite well because when I woke up from it, my wife was already awake so we talked about it and even laughed. It was around 2 a.m. We were both up and laughing at my crazy dream. She gave me a cup of water and asked me, “What’s wrong with sharing your wife with a visitor? Be kind.” We laughed, ignorant of what was ahead of us.

In the dream, a man I didn’t know came to visit us. He called our bed beautiful. I said, “Wait until you lay on it with my wife.” In the night, still in the dream, I vacated the bed for this stranger and my wife. They made love. They did it again. When morning came, the stranger told me, “Your wife is very sweet. I will come and visit you often.” I proudly chirped, “I know the market so I don’t settle for bad things. I always go for the best…”

The bed he complimented in the dream was made for me by my uncle, a month after our marriage. I grew up with my uncle. He was a carpenter. When my dad died, he took care of me until I completed JSS. I helped out at his shop. I learned how to measure a piece of wood with a square. I mastered the use of the saw. I could make a kitchen table and other little things but school was very important to me. After JSS, I left my uncle and went to live with my aunt, from my mother’s side.

When I got married and needed a bed, I called on my uncle for help and he gladly agreed to do it for us. When it was done, I went for it and said thank you. I tried giving him money but he declined. He told me, “How can I sell this to you? Take it as my wedding gift.”

As the years went by, we didn’t talk that much, me and my uncle, until I heard he was sick.  I went to visit him. On his sick bed, he told me, “I’m hurt the way you treated me. How could you forget about me like that? Your only uncle from your father’s side?” I apologized. I blamed it on life, “It’s hard.” I blamed it on work, “It gets busy all the time.” I blamed it on the distance, “It gets far sometimes.”

A couple of weeks later, my uncle died, leaving behind the bed he made for me. Me and my wife had slept on it for the past five years and hadn’t been able to conceive. We became a laughingstock among our peers. They marry today, tomorrow you would hear the cry of a baby from their window while the laughing stock family continued to live a barren life.

I talked about a dream in the first paragraph and said it was the first dream. That means there were many of them. I dreamt a lot of crazy dreams until my wife started dreaming some to support me. The two shall become one—I didn’t know dream was part of the oneness.

My wife dreamt often about sleeping with strangers. The thread that ran through her dreams and mine was that each time she was having shuperu with these strangers in her dreams, I was there to witness it. And all the shuperu happened on the bed my uncle made for us.

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Two years after having this series of dreams, we figured it wasn’t normal. It had spiritual connotations so we started praying about it. When after three years we hadn’t been able to conceive, we linked it to the series of dreams and intensified our prayers. Five years later, nothing happened for us except the death of my uncle.

Mention any fertility hospital and I’ll tell you that me and my wife visited. Mention any fertility drug and I’ll tell you we took some but nothing happened. We left our church to another church hoping the hand of God would be stronger in this new church but nothing happened.

One afternoon, my wife’s father called and told us his pastor wanted to see us. We played with the idea of going to see him but we always postponed until one day, my wife’s father gave my number to the pastor to call me. He said, “Forget about whatever you’ve been through or wherever you’ve been and Come over. We need to talk.”

One Sunday we went to worship with them. After church, when all was quiet, we went to his office to see him. He told us, “I called you because of a prayer request your father-in-law put on the altar. I prayed about it and God gave me a message for you. Tell me your marital experience, how has it been like?”

My wife talked about our inability to give birth. I talked about the plenty health facilities we had visited and the money we’d thrown away. He asked, “Is that all?” I answered, “Pastor, the troubles are many but God has been good.” My wife added, “There were some crazy dreams too.”

I turned and gave her a side eye, trying to stop her from talking about it. The pastor said, “Tell me about them. How crazy were they and how often did you dream those crazy dreams?” My wife went into a soliloquy about the dreams, narrating all the ones she remembered. The pastor asked, “So when was the last time you had such a dream?”

We both turned to look at each other, trying to remember the last time the dream happened. I said, “Oh it’s been a year ooo, or?” My wife agreed.

“Get rid of the bed,” the pastor said. We both went like, “Huh?” He repeated, “Get rid of the bed. You mentioned that in the dream, everything happened on your matrimonial bed, right?” We both nodded. He repeated, “Get rid of the bed.”

We went home and dismantled the bed. We didn’t even bother to buy a new one. We put our mattress in the corner of the room and slept on it every night and day. The next time we met the pastor, we narrated the story of how the bed came to be. How I got it from my uncle and what my uncle told me on his sick bed. The pastor said, “Oh he’s dead? When did he die?” I told him a year ago. He asked, “And when did the crazy dreams stop coming?”

We both looked at each other and chorused, “A year ago.” He said, “Now, do you understand the genesis of your problem? This world is not as you see it. That’s why you don’t have to stop praying. God has done it but don’t stop praying.”

Two months later, my wife missed her period. We found a boy where she missed her period. We have three kids now. We used four years to make three babies. We are no longer the laughing stock. When people laugh, they don’t laugh at us, they laugh with us. When God comes through for you, the laughter is no longer about you but with you.

I Didn’t Tell Anybody Because I Enjoyed It

I went to my uncle’s grave with an apology. I said, “I don’t know what I did to you but I hope you forgive me.”

I gave him a flower and left. Many months later, I dreamt of him. We were sitting on the bed he made for us, but this time, the bed was at his workshop. My dad was there too. Both of them were laughing while I sat there watching them, serving them palm wine.

I take that as a sign, that his spirit is at home and in peace with me.

—Kumedzi

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