MY AFRICAN MAN!

My eyes were gradually getting accustomed to the darkness. It's been three whole days that I have been locked away in this hole, called a room. The wedding is next day, and just like every bride, I had the pre-wedding jitters. I was excited, anxious and scared. The clutter of feelings was something I had yet to understand, but the marriage itself was not what scared me the most. It was the rigorous process I had to go through, and what I am still going through that has my mind stirred.

I did not understand a culture that locked a bride up for days just to keep her from the public.

I mean I am an educated, Harvard graduate for that matter. How in the heavens did I find myself in this position? I longed for an explanation, but nothing Nne Ude said helped quell the curiosity in my heart.

When I said yes to the man I loved, the whispering of his sweet rubbish did nothing to prepare me for this barbarous tradition. 

I desired an escape. I longed for freedom. 

Oh! Why didn't we just elope and marry through the drive thru wedding places in Las Vegas? Why? I asked no one in particular. 

This culture is crazy, bizarre.  I muttered for the umpteenth time. I had planned escape every now and then, especially as the lady, that was called Nne Ude, came in each day. I was aggravated and could not believe I consented to being locked up. Was I that desperate to marry this African man?

"Omene, Omene. We are bringing you some food". I heard Nne Ude call out from outside. Turning the key, I heard the door creak gently under  the pressure of Nne Ude's strong hands. Flinging the door open, she walked into the room with such grace and gait, I concluded that she cannot possibly come from this rural community called a village. Nne Ude was the eldest woman in the clan and she was the only one authorized to see the bride before the wedding day. She brought food for me daily and water to wash. "Wash! Oh that. Hmmpphh...",  I sighed. I remembered how I luxuriously took my time letting the warm water pour on me in my Atlanta house, as a flood of anger and sadness filled me. I never imagined bathing to be something done with a bucket, black soap and some napkins. "All these for Chidi?", I asked myself again.

Adjusting my eyes to the sunlight, I opened the left eye first, then the right. I never thought I would look forward to sunlight this much, or even the chirping of birds. I took in my environment with a new found appreciation to nature. I raised my face to the west wind and embraced the cold harmattan breeze on my face.

"Omene, you must let us braid your hair tonight, okay?", Nne Ude said.

I smiled. "Why should my hair be braided? Isn't it my wedding? Don't I even have a say on how I want to look on my most precious day?", I wondered.

Nne Ude sat with me and talked some more about the whole process. I was not interested but I listened. All I wanted was to be with my groom and get back to Atlanta. I decided I was never going to set foot on Africa soil again. Where I come from, we believe strongly in liberty. So with everything within me, I sought for that freedom.

Finally, the D-day came. I was so ecstatic! At last, the ceremony would end and my misery will go away. I was mad at Chidi for letting them lock me up, but I also remembered the times when he asked me over and over if  I was certain I wanted to perform the traditional rites. He actually offered me a wedding in Atlanta, with just his family and mine, but I wanted to visit Africa. "Hmmm...", I sighed. Maybe I should have said yes to a wedding in Atlanta instead of this days of darkness, loneliness and anger, but I was soon to forget my sorrow as I heard the music.

First, the harmonious music from the talking drums woke me. It was beautiful to be woken by the sound of singing. It felt like heaven; like the angels sang just for me. I never thought music made from anything other than contemporary drums, guitar, and grand piano would be so glorious. Anyway, taking my mind off the drummers, I looked down at the African attire Nne Ude had adorned me in. I have not seen my reflection in the mirror, but the pain from the braids I had plaited yesterday discouraged me from asking for a mirror. I just went to bed.

"Omene, you look like a bride now", Nne Ude said grinning from ear to ear, jutting me out of my misgiving. Pushing me with the kindest touch I have ever felt, she turned me toward the mirror. I could not believe the reflection. I looked just like a photo in Elle magazine. I was beauty personified, I must confess. Wow! What did Nne Ude do to me? How did she turn me into a goddess; into a true beauty? How? Tears rolled down my cheeks as I thought of the times, during these past few days, when I thought of choking her to death for locking me up.

"What is wrong, Omene?", Nne Ude asked me when she saw the tears stream down my face.

I could not find words to express myself, I just laughed and hugged her.

"Now, let's go and get you married", she said to me.

The wedding ceremony was never like I imagined. Not even all of the many tales Chidi told me about his culture prepared me for this kind of celebration. I felt loved and wanted by this community. The whole village came out in singing and dancing just to witness my marriage to Chidi. Wow! Who would do that for you in the US? I thought. This was different. Indeed!

After the priest pronounced us husband and wife, we were escorted to the edge of the town with  merriment, as the people chanted I and Chidi's name. For some reason they could not pronounce my American name and resorted to calling me Omene. Nne Ude says it means gift from heaven. I liked the meaning of the name and did not bother protesting about calling me by original birth name.

Being in Chidi's arms, I was overjoyed and glad that I was finally free from the clutches  of customs and traditions. Ha! Who has heard of a wedding ceremony that took three whole weeks to happen? I mean the wedding starts from the first week and ends on the last day of the third week. Wow! What a tradition!

As I wrapped myself in Chidi's arms I was glad I did not give up on his culture. It was a strange and a new experience for me, but it opened my eyes to a different phase of life. To a culture that loved you irrespective of where you were from. That was a new kind of freedom I think the world should know about. The freedom to choose whom to marry and where to marry without fear of stigmatization. Wow! I am married to an African man! I chuckled and snuggled closer to my husband.

Staring far into space, I remembered Nne Ude again and I missed her.

*Picture credit: https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=SVNm2kaUUQc5GM&tbnid=0bMRpDrg-AYD8M:&ved=0CAQQjB0&url=http%3A%2F%2Fkwekudee-tripdownmemorylane.blogspot.com%2F2013%2F06%2Fedo-people-africas-most-popular-and.html&ei=DUv7U7yVB8OfyASrh4GYDw&bvm=bv.73612305,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNFysUSKSUGN8MJ4GY-oLLDtSXgFCw&ust=1409063618900180