This was actually inspired
by a senior colleague (lady) of mine who got married barely two months ago. What
really served as a long waited confirmation of my believe that weddings shouldn’t
be part of any normal man’s plans, dreams and vision was a telephone call she
received about 30 or so minutes ago.
I didn’t at first have an
interest in the conversation that ensued but I had to sharpen my earlobes when I
heard the word “wedding” uttered – being a traditionalist as I am, I always try
as much as possible (with little success) to understand the reason why women place
so much treasure, value and God-like worship to weddings.
Apparently the long story
involved a video clip that the caller had recorded during my colleague’s
wedding and had sent it to her prior to the call.
Now, what shocked me was not
the entire chat was nothing but this sentence; “Ile video ulinitumia imenikumbusha harusi yangu na vile nilikuwa nimesahau…”
(That Video you sent me has reminded me of my wedding that I was almost
forgetting…).
STOP THERE!
When my unmarried lady-friend
neighbor struggled with all zeal and zest to try to explain to me that a wedding
was the best thing that could ever happen to a woman and was meant to be a
lifetime Memory, I thought I was a stupid village nigger who was short-sighted on
matters romance. I remember how she made me feel like a freak that deserves to
get married to nothing more of a Class Five drop-out who is now 31 years of age
and farming in the furthest corner of my neighbouring village. In fact that is
a feeling I never recovered from until today.
Ladies stop pretending and
pushing us beyond our thinking elasticity advancing for a pompous wedding whose
importance doesn’t, by fact, last beyond the wedding day. Call me naïve for all
I care but truth be told, methinks weddings are nothing but aesthetic portrayal
of the unmentionable struggles involved in marriage as an institution. Period. Nothing
more.
Weddings same as
Christianity and the so called civilization that is causing irreparable social
decay in Africa came by ship and I dare shout it that the decors, the cakes,
the convoys, the flowers accompanied by some thin lads called brides-maids are sights
carefully choreographed by the witty white man as a cover-up for the ills and psychological
torment that one has to endure in marriage. And you here as a black innocent
young girl want to force your poor man into doing it “better than Albert but
you should hire more Limos than the ones we saw in Cate’s wedding.” Okay. Fine.
As men, we dislike being pestered and nagged so we yield and give you thy dream
wedding and you’re happy. You forget that even if your man does this, you will
have a smoke-life happiness and a marriage that will definitely be short-lived.
If you think I am kidding, and my facts are wrong, look around and you will see
the divorce rates surrounding our so called ‘celebrities’.
What really pisses off a
mortal is the time wasted in organizing for this ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ event. What
even vexes more is amount of money being pumped into the event by all and
sundry. Next time if your woman asks, talks in a wedding-suggesting tone, let
me advise you boy. Just keep cool, smile and sk her if she would like you to
start a business/investment somewhere or she would prefer that you two do a
wedding – a bigger one than that of Emmy and her Naija widower. If she chooses
that you go for investment, my man give her a hug then start the business and
secretly plan for a grand wedding for her. That’s a wife. BUT if she goes for
the latter, my friend you better fly to Somalia as a pre-marital Exile!
To me if at all I was to get
married. No. if at all I were to marry, I would do that even tomorrow. All I have
to do is round up a couple of my old muratina
and busaa-drinking old kinsmen to
escort me to my in-laws. There, they should themselves do the talking and I, in
order to make the in-laws believe that their daughter is going to be treated
like a queen – better than the way they themselves raised her; to warn them of
the possible disaster that would befall them if they dare disapprove of my
intentions; to show the in laws that there’s no other man in the world if not
me; to instill in them a feeling that their daughter is lucky to have me; to
make them death-scared of the regrettable plague that would forever haunt them
in case they turn me and my old men down, should just sit there and wear a
stone face, with red eyes and shouldn’t smile or say anything – however the
jokes may be rib-cracking.
After that, I know everything
will go well. My aunts will later on ferry my wife home to the North as I go
South accompanied by the mboys and my
old kinsmen. To show our solidarity, I ensure that, I drown my mboys and the old men with busaa and muratina to thank them for their role in it all. Well, I know when
drunk, the old men, with their busaa+tobacco,
smelling saliva will spit on my chest, others on my head and others on my face in
an effort to bless and welcome me into real manhood...
Later on I go home and make love to someone to solidly establish a family.
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