When I was in Primary school, I always looked forward to break time. Whenever the bell went off, Precious, Sopuru, Ogechi (bless her soul), Lola, Chioma and I would go behind the Administrative block close to the generator house to play our girl games.
“Who stole the meat from the chicken pot, izit nur you number one …?”
“Change your style … another one … be like that …”
“Names of boys, names of boys …”
Sound familiar? 🙂 Anyway, there was this particular game that used to piss me off …
“When will you marry? 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004 …”
We played the game with a skipping rope. One person would skip while the rest of us recited the years, and we usually started from 2001 not stopping until the skipper tired and got caught in the rope. Whenever it was my turn, I usually tried very hard to skip to 2060, just to annoy my friends. Don’t look at me like that joor, the game was annoying. It annoyed me because the year was 2000 and we were just in Primary 2. Why would a bunch of 7-year olds countdown to the year they will get married starting the following year?!
As the years rolled by, I thought I had heard the last of that chant. Until a few years ago when mum had ‘the talk’ with me, then the chant started again. Only this time, there were no ropes.
In one of ‘the talk’ sessions, I remember innocently stating that I would love to get married when I turn 25 because I feel I would be mature by then. Then … (actually I can’t explain what happened afterwards *PG 13*) But the message my mother meant to pass, in summary, is that it is good to keep an open mind because God is the one who will choose a husband for me in His own time. When you think about it, she was – is – right, but I still hate that game.
What is even more annoying is that the rest of the world is counting too.
“When will you marry, 2015, 2016, 2017 …?”
World rep: “Ify bekee, kedu? They said you have graduated, owu eziokwu?”
Me: “Yes ma o, we thank God.”
World rep: “Heyyyy! Thank God! Ozo kita we will drink palm wine. When are our in-laws coming?”
For the love of God! How am I supposed to know? Am I a fortune teller?
Honestly, it makes me nervous and uncomfortable too, like there is some mystery man watching me all the time. Like:
God, I’m picking my nose! Have I scared him away?
Should I go for my Masters? Would it scare him away?
I love this lipstick o, kai but it’s red. It might scare him away.
Is he watching?
It appears I have to work so hard and sacrifice so much to HAVE a husband. Is that what it is? Is that how it’s supposed to be? If it is, then it is really really scary.
To be honest, I am scared. Will I end up sad and lonely while my other three sisters get married? Am I getting it wrong? What does mum mean by ‘God will show me my husband’? Will a dove rest on his shoulders? Or will there be a heavenly sticker on his head saying ‘IFY’s HUSBAND’?
I … I don’t know.
And I am really scared.
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Words Are Work … and fun too!