OFF THE HOOK EP:1 How We Met
Today, I told my mother I don't want to marry.
Everything was set and everyone was in my father’s obị (parlor) waiting. Chinelo and Ebere, my childhood friends, were dressed up in their bridal girl’s uniform, a lime green corset dress and black geles. Their makeup sat like a newly molded clay pot, without any cracks or creases.
The mid-April afternoon sun penetrated through my bedroom window where we all were. My makeup artist stood in front of me with her arms folded on her chest and a brush peeking through her left side. Chinelo and Ebere sat on my bed begging me to go ahead with my traditional marriage to Elo, who has been my boyfriend for two years and my fiancé for six months.
The DJ was playing Ego Oyibo by Chike on the main occasion ground. In the kitchen, there were loud clattering of plates and spoons as the women in charge of that area dished out abacha na ugba and ose na anyara for the ndị obịa in my father’s obị.
My ears could pick up every sound happening around me, but all my teary eyes could see was how I had lost myself to keep Elo, a man who never wanted to be kept.
Not my prayers and fasting, nor my screaming and fighting, hell, not even my crying and begging nor the two abortions I had for him could keep him.
“Trust me, you don't want to do this. You'll regret it for the rest of your life”, it was Chinelo who spoke and brought me out of my reverie.
I turned away from my window to look at her with the tears clouding my eyes, and said “No, I won't”, I sniffed, then as though really thinking it through for the first time, I shook my head and repeated “I won't”.
Resolved in my decision, I scoffed and stood up from the makeup stool I was sitting on. I wrapped the baby-pink above-knee length bridal overall that had a fluffy v-neckline around my body tightly to keep it from loosening as I made my way to my mother's room.
On reaching her door to knock with my fist raised in the air, I paused. Adrenaline had betrayed me and now I was thinking of the effect it would have on her.
She had been so excited when I introduced Elo to her as my boyfriend.
“Nwoke nke guzo kwụ ọtọ (a man that stands upright)” she had called him and when we were alone, she sang the litanies of things that made Elo “the right man” for me.
“He is dark and tall. He's Igbo. He works with Oando oil and gas, he's rich! He's from your father's mother side. He is very handsome and you're beautiful, none of my grandchildren will be ugly. He is Catholic, I saw the rosary on his neck. He's Catholic and he's not ashamed of it…” and she'd go on for hours. Every litany deserved a finger as she counted them and she'd often hit my lap lightly when she got to the last point.
They were all vain things, her reasons, but when your only child is almost 35 even vain things become solid reasons, I guess.
It wasn't that long before Elo the men weren't coming. It was that I had never thought seriously about relationships until him.
We met by chance, about three years ago, at a Rema’s concert in Benin.
Because Ebere resides in Benin and it was her birthday, Chinelo and I flew in to surprise her, and coincidentally, Rema had a concert that day.
The three of us were vibing to Ozeba when a man with a belly the size of six averagely healthy people grabbed Chinelo’s butt.
Angered by his perversion, she turned around and kissed his fatty cheeks with her soft palms.
Though the strange man was wrong on all fronts, he got aggressive and began sprouting harsh words on Chinelo who didn’t hold back. It got physical when the man poured the drink in his red plastic cup at her, and then all three of us bounced on him.
Security was called and we were taken outside. Just when security was about to hand us over to the police there on the charges of public disturbance, Elo called him to the side and whispered something in his ears.
“Them say na him start am?” The security man barked in a loud husky voice after he met with Elo.
“Yes!” we chorused. “He grabbed her arse” I added, and pointed at Chinelo to indicate who the real victim was.
At that, the Security considered the strange man for a moment, then went to the police and spoke a few words. The police came and cuffed the man, and we were left standing outside with an order from the Security not to return to the concert.
“Are you girls alright?” It was Elo who spoke to us now.
Given our recent encounter, we gave no answer, but since I had noticed him talking with the security before, I figured he might have been our saviour that night.
“What did you tell the security man?” I asked him.
“Oh, I, I witnessed the whole thing and I know how these things work. If you don't have someone to back your claims, you get bundled up with the offender, so I had to come out too when you girls were taken out”.
There was silence as we just listened and considered him. When he spoke, I could swear there was an inner deeper voice that was masked in the subtle dreamy one I heard.
He was wearing a blue face cap with a white Nike sign in front of it, a brown vintage up-and-down shirt, and shorts with the pattern of wheat crops drawn on their bottoms. On his wrist, he had a silver wristwatch in one hand and, on the other, three sets of black and brown wrist beads. His toes were covered with the half-cover black suede sleeper he wore.
“I'm Elo, by the way” he introduced.
And that was how we met.
***
Episode 3
***
Hey there, you’ve just read the first episode of OFF THE HOOK. If you liked it, I hope you did, please leave a comment, follow and give it as much claps as you think it deserves. 🤗
