. Ulari had heard such comments as, “Don’t marry from that family, they have madness.”
By Lechi Eke
The occupants of a certain sprawling palatial edifice in Ogudu GRA, Lagos woke up Sunday morning to fresh concerns that sentenced them to gloom. Suspicion was cast on one of them as what was behind the story of returned lorries of yam tubers to Tivland from Southeast Nigeria.
In Africa, marriage was the concern of everyone in the two families coming together; not just for the lovers. Both families investigate each other. Ulari had heard such comments as, “Don’t marry from that family, they have madness.”
“Don’t marry from there, they have epilepsy in their family.”
“Don’t you know that their women don’t last in marriage?”
“I learned they have problem conceiving.”
Also, she had heard some more serious things like, “Ah! They kill their husbands. Oh, they kill their wives.”
In Africa, the marriage process was never straight, and definitely fraught with meddling. It made Ulari yawn with ennui. Each family expected an angelic family as in-laws.
In their own case, she and J, she sensed things would get out of hand. She teared up each time she remembered her abduction. It smacked of hate. Someone hated her marrying J to the point of wanting to harm her and her family! J had been great assuring her that things would turn around, but she couldn’t see it. Tired and frightened at the turn of events, she fretted. His eldest sister visiting Lagos, and she not invited to see her sent a bad signal, a strong one at that.
She shut her mum’s behaviour out of her mind. Her mother loathed people of other tongues. For the life of her, she couldn’t say why. That J went to her mum to ask for her hand in marriage, drove her mum to lose her peace. She had reported to her parents telling them how Ulari was poised to break her heart, and she had wept using the edge of her wrapper to wipe her tears; so, reported one of Ulari’s cousins living with her grandparents. She had narrated this to her by GSM phone.
GSM phone; that was another problem. She was home the weekend J went to see her mum. When her mum chanced on her speaking into her left palm and discovered her expensive brand-new GSM phone, she went berserk. The phone pointed to loss of maidenhead. Men, she said never gave free gifts. There were troubles on every side. Ulari suspected that what would bring lasting peace would be their separation. She knew it would cost them deep pain having been hooked on each other like opium, but she could not see any way out.
Ulari had no notion of what was going on that Sunday. Just the previous night they all including her friends, Bukky and Bisi whom J and Pastor Marfi and wife had wooed back into their lives, had spent quality time in Princess Iveren’s garden chatting, laughing and having a swell time amidst good gospel music laced with mild secular ones, and gourmet finger foods and wine. J had joined late apologising that he had a guest who took his time. Ulari knew who the guest was, his eldest sister. J told her about his eldest sister’s arrival, but didn’t offer to take Ulari to see her. Ulari desired to make her acquaintance despite herself. Although she had told herself countless times that her relationship with Jamin was doomed – both families wanted not the union, but she actually would love to meet the Torkulars. Iveren, J’s younger sister was a great individual, although effusive. She and her husband hosted her, showering her with love and attention.
As was her custom since she came to spend time with Iveren’s family in Ogudu GRA after the horrible incident of her brief abduction, Ulari woke up early to play the piano, in order to practise and to worship. Ed, Iveren’s husband, often sauntered into the living room where the piano played to worship and mutter prayers before leaving for work. This Sunday morning, Ulari played Amazing Grace with all her might, but no one came out. She felt uneasy. She had no idea whether Princess Evelyn was in Iveren’s house or in Jamin’s, or if she had gone. She knew she was with them the previous night, but no one told her anything. She knew also that her visit was connected to her relationship with her brother, if not why was she not introduced?
Sunday morning, strange things began to happen. First, she woke up with a bad dream. Strange; neither J nor his younger sister, Iveren, came to see her that Sunday morning. She worshipped at home, in front of the television. Breakfast was served her in her room. She tried to reach Iveren on the intercom, she did not pick it. She called J, his phone was engaged and he did not call back later! About 12:30pm, J sent for her, which was stranger. Stranger still, he was in Iveren’s bedroom!
A domestic staff in uniform led the way to a door and pressed a button by the door and the door opened, and she left her to walk into the room. Three people stood up at her entrance and two suddenly sat again, remaining one. That one was J. He stood and waved her to a chair by a dressing table. It was a large bedroom with a sitting arrangement of a couch and two single armchairs around a coffee table. A strange lady occupied the couch. Ulari recognised Iveren sitting in one of the armchairs beside the lady, a huge elegant lady she had not met. She was so awed by her presence that she curtseyed to her.
“Come on, Uleri!” Iveren said (she called her name like J used to do until his tongue became accustomed to her name), “we should curtesy to you. This is Princess Evelyn, our second mother.” She giggled and stopped suddenly.
“Good day, Ma”
She did not reply, but stared at her. So much for Yoruba teaching, Ulari thought. She remembered how Bisi’s mother screamed at her the first time, to bow her knees to the ground to greet her causing tears to fill her eyes. Now, this Tiv lady dressed like a Hausa woman didn’t require to be bowed down to? Hmm… J explained to her later that under their custom, all things being equal, they should bow to his wife or fiancée. Ulari rolled her eyes.
So, she sat on the seat J indicated and three pairs of eyes bore into her. J perched on a tall stool with upholstered top.
“We called you because we just got news from the palace in Gboko that you told your family what happened to you.” Princess Evelyn’s voice was unreproachful, even kind.
Ulari looked at J. The two sisters exchanged furtive glasses. J spoke up before her lips forming the words, “Is it me?” could make a sound.
“Sister, I told you it’s not her, it can’t be her family.”
“Is it about…” Ulari began.
“Yes, it is about the tens of lorries carrying yam tubers from Tivland turned back from the East.”
Ulari looked bewildered.
“Listen, Sister, please, you cannot do this. This is not part of it… part of what brought you to Lagos.”
“I just want to know,” Iveren said. “I want the air cleared.”
“Did you tell your family that our family tried to …”
“Stop!” J’s voice was sharp, and Iveren stopped. He stood up and took Ulari by the wrist and took her out of the room.
Ulari said not a word as she followed J to one of the sitting rooms downstairs. They sat down, and he said, “I’m sorry. I think they’re looking for something to pin on you.”
A certain feeling of corruption began to rise up in Ulari’s inner being. After J explained what happened, she became furious.
“I think I’m done,” she said.
“Done, as in how?” he asked her. She stood up and began to walk back to her room. J did not follow her. There and then, she realised she had been foolish following a strange man to his sister’s house. She had been there for sixteen days, and became comfortable and started calling him J as the sister called him.
Back in the room, she fished out her old handbag and put her things back in it. The things that belonged to her. She changed into the dress she was wearing the day they kidnapped her and slipped into her old sandals, and began to arrange her new things back in place. Her mind was made up, she would leave Iveren’s house. How could somebody that professed to love her, someone whom her mother rejected, even considered that her family told Nd’Igbo to return Tiv yams to Tivland? Whatever for? Did her family strike J as desperate for marriage? Faraway in Igbo land, did they know about the Tor Tiv or his family? She was done!
Read Also: Mediations (2)
No one was about when she came out of her room through the front door down the short wide steps leading down to the path lined with flowerbeds running to different parts of the large premises, which one of them would lead to the gate. She began to walk down. She was aware that she was being watched. Jamin had complained about his sister’s security details.
A car came into view from the opposite direction and began to slow down at the sight of her. It was Iveren’s husband. He stopped and inquired where she was going. She told him. He said, “Hop in!” and he reversed to take her back to school.
So, they drove in silence, Ulari and Ed, soft music playing in the background, like very low. They never ceased to amaze Ulari, these new people she just met, this year. Her life had taken a spin. She thought she had her life planned out, but no, the Torkulars had eternity planned out. They planned everyone’s life. Everyone had their place, their own lane to run on; even if you met them today, you already had an assigned place.
She remembered J teaching her and her friends the art of great conversation one day. They were so primp and proper! He said two voices must not rise in equal velocity at the same time. Ignorant people, he said, not only interrupt others, but go ahead to speak as someone else is speaking. This action, J told them would cost the two knowledge of learning something new. “Do pause when someone speaks up while you are speaking, and never you interrupt another speaker unless by mistake, and stop immediately you realised the mistake.”
Ed drove in silence. Ulari who usually found comfort in silence, was discomfited by his silence. He was a very good-looking man and young; should be older than J though. He looked like someone in his early or mid-30s; as light skinned as Ulari, if not lighter. Ulari was disappointed that he wasn’t making a conversation, or may be in Tiv culture it was wrong to speak to the intended of the Wan Tor? – she rolled her eyes. As modern as they looked, they were very traditional, Ulari had discovered in the few weeks she had been with them. Just as she was ruminating on this, Ed’s phone rang. He began to speak without touching anything. Surprised, Ulari later found out that he wore a device, an earpiece which enabled him to receive calls while driving.
He spoke to someone politely in Tiv language, and Ulari thought she dictated surprise in his tone, and an apology. He drove on for a while and when he got to a junction, he turned off into another road which Ulari suspected would lead them back to where they were coming from.
“Are you going back home?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, I did something stupid,” he said.
“Oh!” she exclaimed sympathetically.
One of the things that endeared these people to Ulari was their lack of self-conceit. But his next statement, disconcerted her.
“Just learnt that the Wan Tor had no wind you were returning to school,” he said.
Ulari’s jaw dropped, and she cocked her head with her mouth open. “Bro. Ed…”
“Ed,” he corrected.
“…I’m not married to the Wan Tor,” she said in a raised tone.
He nodded.
“Please, pull over let me get off. I need to be in school.”
“You don’t seem to understand the security risk. You need to be under protection until all this blows away.” There was a finality in his voice that discouraged any argument. It was not Ed to fight, it was J. She narrowed her eyes and gathered her fire together, calming her angry tongue. So, now, she was a prisoner!
Ed pulled up in front of the main house right beside the wide steps and said, “Em…excuse me.” Ulari whose hand was already on the door handle turned to look at him her eyes asking the question, “What?” He cleared his throat and said. “I’ll release the lock in a moment, but please, be gentle on the Wan Tor. He’s distraught, you cannot imagine it. He loves you and is ready to fight for you.”
Ulari hesitated. She did not want to say anything. Anger threatened to choke her. Then, she said, “He can’t hold me hostage until his parents changed their minds. And from what I’ve been made to understand, it is tradition.”
“Tradition is manmade and can be man broken.”
The anger pushed flippant words out of Ulari’s mouth. “I can’t wait like this, supposing I’m ready to marry. I have a life, and this is not with my consent, holding me in this place. What would my parents and siblings say if they find out? And, it is not even as if my family wants him, my mum already said no to him, and she’s persecutin…”
“Wowh! Wowh! Wait a minute, your mum said No? Did she see him? Does she know who he is?” For the first time since Ulari met Ed, she saw he was agitated.
Ulari spoke carefully now with measured words. “In the East, we don’t know anything about the Tiv Royal Family. Neither do we care about them. All I’ve heard about the Tiv, is Tiv yam.” She tried the lock again. He released it, and she got out.
Culled from The Girls are not to Blame by Lechi Eke
