My sister called my fiancé at about midnight asking if he had bought fuel, ready to embark on the road trip tomorrow. The next move of mine was tears. I cried deeply and uncontrollably. You know that saying about the bride-to-be, how she always gets to cry before her big day, on her big day or in marriage. I guess this was it. My fiancé called asking why I was crying. That was the million dollar question. Why was I crying? I was in the arms of the best man in the world, my soon-to-be groom, the long awaited knight in shining armor, yet I was teary all through and couldn't stop those tears. How do I explain this?
Okay, I think it was only dawning on me that soon, I shall be under a man as such any decisions I will have to make will be vetted by him. Also, in my head, I was thinking ‘I will miss my family.’ But, I have been away from my family in over 9 years. So, that didn’t come across as a good reason. So like joke like joke, I will now be under a man? But, what’s all this about being under a man sef? I kept taunting myself with meaningless thoughts. I woke up to Thursday’s 6 am with a distorted face. My eyes were swollen and had the resemblance of a black eye. I barely rested at night with little or no hours of sleep before the scheduled road trip. Sheer silence engulfed every fibre of my being throughout the journey. I think I had a migraine. I literally was experiencing what some people call cold feet. Was I sure this was the man I wanted to be with for the rest of my life? Without a doubt, the answer to that question was in the affirmative. But here I was, strangled by my unending string of thoughts about not wanting to be married, wanting to be married, not wanting to be single, wanting to be single. Call me Confused.com. With mixed feelings, I lacked appetite for food. In fact my belly was full of nothingness yet I wasn’t hungry, not even for my favourite popular boosters, Lacasera, Gala or Akwa Ogazi*. Shame! The 8 hour journey to my village, in Anambra State must have been my shortest trip ever. Before I knew it, we had arrived the gate of my village home. No, the driver wasn’t speeding. I was the problem here.
The Traditional Marriage was set for Easter Monday. Oh! Dear!! The emotional turmoil for me was having waited all through the long weekend. It was the longest wait of my life. Guess what? I cooked the Easter rice and prepared lunch for family and guests. I was that busy because I knew I was doing it for the very last time as a single girl. It was a rare privilege or so I thought. On the other hand, maybe it was a near-perfect distraction from my anxiety. To shake off some anxiety, I took a walk around the compound greeting the villagers who strolled into the compound leisurely, keeping tabs on what was up. At the backyard, I sighted the Igbo woman from Ekwulobia and her team already busy prepping food around the big aluminium pot. I perceived the aroma of the fresh cow meat on fire. Her Ofe Onugbu* and Ukwa* delicacies were out of this world. Did I mention that earlier in the morning, I had joined to supervise the butchering of two cows? I could hear my mum’s voice echo about me making sure no part of the cow meat was stolen. I think the head was for the Umunna* or so. Not sure again. I was not the typical bride-to-be who sat in a place with legs crossed, being pampered with a manicure, pedicure and sipping on Pinad-Colada. I think I had forgotten that I was the bride-to-be. I needed the whole fiesta to be damn right over. So I guess anything that would have it come and go quickly, I was up for it. The decorators were here already. Struggling to hang high, a variety of Georges wrappers on the wall. I’m sure they didn't know I was the bride-to-be else they may have rolled out the red carpet quickly. I didn't bother to introduce myself either. Their entire decor seemed to be going according to plan.
I needed some solo moment; that time for me, myself and I. I walked upstairs and then sat in the balcony. I was all by myself. This was the exact spot I stood 2 years ago during a family Christmas celebration, when I whispered a prayer to God begging him for my husband-to-be. I remember those words clearly, “Lord, please let the next time I shall have to come back to this village be for my traditional wedding.” Wow! God answered me. It’s actually the eve before my traditional marriage ceremony. Tomorrow, I shall bear the name of another man, locked down in line with customs and traditions. I recall sweet memories of being a single girl; having to party, make decisions independently, travel around the globe, enjoy all the wooing from male folks and above all wish and wait patiently for my knight in shining armor. How ironical?
Aha! The D-Day was here. The joys of parents know no bounds when giving out a daughter’s hand in marriage. Who knew my whole frame wasn't together? I had to put up that bold look of trying to be much more excited than the folks. Did I get some rest last night? Not quite sure. I made breakfast for the family. Not again right? My fiancé had called to say they were already on their way and would arrive in 2 hours. At about 9 am, I stole away to a hidden parlor upstairs after grumbling about being exhausted. Oh! Mia!! My dearest in-law. She found me! And here I was thinking I was hiding. She handed me my first wedding present in a cute pink box. I opened the box. Viola! A beautiful sexy pink lingerie. It was just what I needed. She smiled and topped the icing further with some useful advice. By the way, Mia is British. She flew all the way from the UK to my village for my wedding. She will be the only White attending the ceremony. So I nagged to Mia about doing everything but resting. I guess she figured this was about anxiety and stress. She did a good job at calming me down and asked that I rest. Rest ke? The ceremony hadn’t started. I can only be normal once it was over. My fiancé will soon be here. Let me go and start dressing up. I was going to make four appearances with different attires. I looked forward to this.
Fast forward. I enjoyed bringing the in-laws into my father’s compound. With that heavy guard of palm wine unbalanced on my head, I wore a big head scarf too, thanks to Sharon, my sister who wedged me from behind as I climbed the steep entrance on high heels. If it wasn't for her, my Humpty-Dumpty fall would have turned the highlight of the event. I changed into the George wrapper tied on my chest, danced with my pretty girlfriends escorting me and got some money in the trays. I changed into the main attire for the husband search. I remember my husband-to-be wasn’t supposed to drink the palm wine in the small cup once I found him. Don’t know from which village person I heard that advice. There were just so many words of wisdom that I couldn’t keep up with their tempo. Then finally, the in-laws dressed me up in their cultural attire to take me with them. I heard my sister say, ‘Wow! Francesca you look fabulous. I didn’t know it was you. This is so beautiful.”
My God! I was almost dying from the weight of the heavy coral beads on my head and neck. I could barely walk with the heavy wrappers. I knew I looked beautiful but hey! This was the Finale. Can we just say goodbye now, husband carry me and we go to wherever my new village was? I am knackered and have done very well entertaining Custom and Tradition today. The routine of eating, taking photos, cake cutting, dancing and money sprays were ongoing. It’s time to go please. I have tried. I desperately needed to quickly wrap up the first phase of getting married. I was now in a better place I think. Now cousins, friends, relatives and guests trooped to the car to bid me farewell. I just sat there wondering when the gear would be set in motion. Sharon, my sister came to say bye. She said, ‘Look at this girl smiling instead of crying. You are happy to leave us oh. Silly girl.” I laughed. If only she knew I had gone through a vigil of tears four nights ago. If only. In the car, I sat in between my father-in-law and my HUSBAND. With such a sitting arrangement, I knew there was no hope of me running away even if I thought about it. I was happy, in a much better head space and was now smiling sheepishly until my HUSBAND said, “there’s a welcome party for the new bride in the village tonight.” I literally died!
*Guinea Fowl eggs
*Bitterleaf Soup
*Breadfruit
*Village Elders
