Got this from one of my girlfriends and had to share.

EXTREMELY INTERESTING

--- She is better than good!!!!!!. The peace of God does pass all understanding.



Very interesting.



It's a sad world out there imagine when this happens to you.... Have you

ever thought of what you would do if you found your

Husband/fiancé/boyfriend, red-handed cheating on you? Worse still, in your

own bedroom? Have you ever thought of what would happen? These things

aren't only read on papers, they are real. They happen

to real women.<

/FONT>

Answer this question to yourself sincerely. Would you go for that

kitchen

knife, pack your stuff, or hire those thugs that do justice to other men.



A weapon called silence by Mildred Ngesa

I felt it the moment I turned the knob. The door was unlocked, but that

was

not unusual especially because his car was in the parking bay, where it

usually parked, when he's at home. What I felt was a knot forming in the

pit of my stomach - the kind of feeling you get When you hear movements in

the house when you know you are alone in the small hours of the night.

Every second Friday of the month, I travel to

Kampala to collect Fabric for

my vintage business in the city. On this particular Friday, I left home at

dusk as usual, heading for the city centre to catch the 8 pm Akamba bus

bound for

Kampala .



We waited for three hours and then it was announced that the buses had

been cancelled due to a technical hitch. With nothing else to do in town, I went

back home. The lights downstairs were on and so was the music. The English Premier



League was showing on TV,

so why wasn't my husband, a die-hard Arsenal fan,

watching the game?



Sometimes a woman's instincts can be so sharp that she can smell last

year's perfume on the shirt of her philandering man. My instincts were on

edge. Even though there was no actual perfume in the air. In fact, there

was nothing really that I could put my finger on. Just this odour of

violation that ripped my senses like nothing I had ever felt before.



Perhaps this feeling is what kept me from calling out to my husband. And it

stayed with me even as I tip-toed upstairs, heading for the master bedroom.

Nothing prepares you for anything like this. They had

not even bothered to

shut the door. I simply walked in and there they were, my husband and this

woman, naked save for my purple

flowered bed-sheets partly covering their

entwined bodies. It took me a moment to realize the high-pitched cry that

cut through the night was coming from me.



The bewildered pair scrambled to cover their nakedness and stared at me

blankly. They said nothing. My heart was beating so loud I could almost hear



its echo in the next room. Trust is a fragile emotion. Like glass breaking,

it can be shattered in an instant, never to be wholly recovered again. In that

instant, my trust for this man was lost. 'Why don't I go downstairs and make

you some tea?'



Did I just say that? I had just walked in on my husband and another woman,

and all I could do was offer them some tea! I slowly made my way back

downstairs. In the kitchen, I switched to auto-pilot, fetching a packet of

milk from the fridge,

lighting the

cooker, placing a pan of water on to boil,

bending to remove mugs and the flask. All the while, my mind was

abuzz, humming a tune I did not recognize.



This must be how zombies feel. It went on and on; the tune seemed to imply

that I ought to be in control, that I ought to keep

breathing so that I may

stay sane. The tea was ready and placed on the table. Three bright blue mugs sat neatly on light blue place mats. I waited for the 'guests' to come

down as I sat motionless, staring sightlessly at the

television.



They came down my husband first, dragging his feet like a prisoner

counting

his final steps to the gallows. He sat on the love seat - the two-seater on which he had cuddled and kissed me passionately just the night before.

She followed, hesitating for a moment near the same seat before moving to

the furthest corner of the room, near the door, a safe distance from me. I

began

talking as I poured tea into the cups. I rattled on and on about the

transport crisis and the difficulties of traveling at a time like this. But

instead of reaching for a cup, the woman stood up abruptly and headed for

the door. For a brief moment, our eyes met. She was not young. In fact,

she appeared quite mature, maybe even married. I heard the gate open. My

husband was still rooted to the

spot. 'Why

don't you see your visitor off?'

I prodded gently. He didn't move. I sighed and started talking about the

African Cup of Nations Championship and how sad it was that

Kenya had lost



to

Burkina Faso .When he did not respond, I yawned loudly, said goodnight

and went to bed. Sleep evaded me like the mosquitoes that buzz through out

the night. My husband did not come to bed with me - he opted for the couch.

By the break of dawn I had painted my mind red with all sorts of possible

revenge, thinking of the ultimate pain to inflict on him for the anguish

he has caused me. But my heart grew haggard on the prospect of a physical

confrontation. I was going to fight this war my own way and at my own pace.



Last night marked the beginning

of a cold war, not confrontation. I have

heard of, and even seen, women go after 'the other woman' with a panga.

But my reasoning was, this woman was not the only player here. My husband

probably seduced her. Other

women go so far as to attack their

husbands,

but then again, I thought: If a man is fed up with me, he will let me know.

If he wants to have an affair, that is his business. Strange, I know, but

silence was my weapon - and a very vicious weapon it was. As far as I was

concerned, that

was the end of it.



I went about my business as usual and did not say or do anything that would

suggest it had actually happened. Two weeks later, I was waking up and was

surprised to find my husband sitting at the foot of the bed, sobbing

deeply.

'I am sorry... so sorry. Please forgive me, please, just say something,

don't shut me out, just say something...' I looked at him calmly, my

heart frozen. My face

showed feigned surprise and innocence. 'What are you

talking about?



Sorry for what?' He sobbed even louder, sinking to his

knees, his head

buried in his hands. 'Say something... shout, scream, anything, but

please

don't be silent. It's killing me, please, I'll tell you everything...' I

smiled. It was the smile of a woman who has just tricked the devil into

getting down on his knees and

praying. It was the smile of a woman who had

won.



I had left my peace with God and He will deal with them in Time. At the end

I remained the Lady he had married, and the other women was just another

lesson for me that made me the better person I am today.



Send this to all the women and men you know!!!!!! wow