On Sunday evening, the day after the wedding, Babamukuru called me to the sitting-room. He sat in his armchair and Maiguru sat on the sofa. I took the same chair I had sat in on my first night at the mission, but I was not the same girl. He did not shout, which was worse than shouting. He said he had held me up to Nyasha as the daughter she should copy, and that I had shamed his trust. A beating, he said, might help me grow up faster. I counted fifteen strokes, one for every year I had lived. Afterwards Anna was sent away on leave and her chores became mine. I scrubbed and swept without complaint, and a small, strange part of me was glad of the ache. If this was the price of saying no once, then at least I had bought something that belonged to me, even if I could not yet say what it was.
What I added:
• Tambu's physical and emotional experience, such as counting the strokes and his calm voice being worse than shouting.
• A callback to the chair on her first night, to show how much she has changed.
• A final line tying the pain to owning her decision.
What I took away:
• The words "crime" and "masochistic delight". I replaced them with action, so the reader sees the pain instead of being told about it.
• Most of Babamukuru's reasoning, which I shortened to two sentences.
Why: The original is flat and quick, which makes the beating of a girl seem normal and routine. I slowed it down to show the cost to Tambu and to connect it to the theme of girls being disciplined into obedience. The trade-off is that my version explains her feelings more than the original does.