Tremors of Katsina

You want to hear a word that isn’t said often.



This is the tremors of Katsina. A shock to your life. A shock to your world. A shock to your eyes.

It is the 15th century in Italy. You are an affluent man walking down the stone path to your favorite brothel. You spent the day trying to sell works of art by little no name artists. After work, you are ready to meet your loving harlot while your bored wife sits at home reading, awaiting your return.

You and your harlot lay for the rest of the evening. Humid air from the two of you breathing onto each other fills the stone walled room. You fuck her even more to make sure you got your money’s worth. She takes you to the exclusive communal bathroom where only the elites are allowed in because she likes you. You enjoy the intimate washing she does to your loins. You forget that she is a whore and talk to her about a future where the two of you could be together. In the end, she gives you a kiss goodbye and you tell her that you’ll see her soon.

You go to your bored wife. She cooked you dinner. You sit at the table ready to take a bite of the roasted potatoes she made for you. As soon as you are about to swallow; your wife says “why does your penis stink?” You choke on your food. “What do you mean?”, you reply. “Your penis has a foul odor, I can smell it from here.”

You cry blasphemy that it is impossible. She says, “you been fucking with one of those disease ridden prostitutes in the capital.” “Why would you even think to make that accusation?” “OH! Would you care to take a look?” Your wife lifts up her skirt and you see something so vile. It makes you cringe in disgust. “What in God’s name happened to you”, you shout. “You and your wretched penis did this to me.” “Nonsense.” Your wife, now let’s loose like a degranged gorilla tearing apart everything; tossing dishes at your head. “You are the only person I have laid with and now look at me. I’m no better than one of those whores, that you see; fucking anything; legs wide open for anyone with some coins in their pocket.” “But…”She stops you before you get to say anything else. “I’m leaving you and you shall never see me again. Have fun with your dirty floozy, you filthy mongrel. I bet you don’t even know the name of the vile creature that gave you such repulsive condition.”

“Her name is Katsina”, you dejectedly respond.

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