The meeting with her father over issues of marriage, was a tough one for Ulari.
By Lechi Eke
Ulari entered her room, the room she had shared with her immediate elder sister, Grace, and closed the door behind her. She was sweating even on her palms being very nervous. Broaching the subject of marriage before her father was a different kettle of fish. How on earth would she start? She sat down; stood up; knelt down and stood again. She prayed a hundred times and took authority over the spirit of fear, then she went down the staircase twice and went up again. The third time, she made it to her father’s shop and entered. His manager told her that he had gone upstairs to pray for he prayed three times a day.
Ulari checked her Ariaria-bought wristwatch and found out to her chagrin that it was 12 noon. She had wasted so much time with her mother and her siblings. She knew that Jamin’s boss would be waiting to hear from her for that was also their agreement. She needed to water the ground before his arrival. And, he was a busy man; had other businesses in the east to attend to before their departure. She should not keep him waiting.
“Please, let me know the moment he comes down,” she told her father’s manager.
She did not wish to see him upstairs; she anticipated his cane! It was that bad. Marriage was not their agreement: their agreement was, go to school. Now, she towed her sister, Grace’s line. Grace had spoilt the isi-mmiri, the head of the stream for her. She was the one with bad buttocks that spoilt the chair and brought nothing but denial on those after her. Grace went for NYSC and brought home a ‘foreign’ suitor from mba mmiri (River state), and when her family was on the verge of investigating the family, Grace started spitting like a pregnant woman forcing her family to marry her off quickly lest a shameful thing befall them. But she played them!
She went back upstairs to the room she shared with Grace; she could not face her mother again nor her eldest sister. Even Felix’s solidarity embarrassed her. “Abba, Father,” she muttered kneeling on the dusty carpet in her room, “my father is before you now, please, speak to him on my behalf, please.”
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The meeting with her father (1)
She stopped for she sounded repetitive and faithless. Sighing unhappily, she got off her knees marvelling at how dusty and small and shabby her room was. She was shocked at her disposition towards her own room. She realised with a jolt that Jamin’s own environment had gradually begun to rub off on her. Somehow, she felt like she knew Jamin would like her to feel in her own father’s house, a guest. He had told her repeatedly that she was on transit in her father’s house: her main destination was his home.
Jamin was so sure it would happen irrespective of the obstacles in the way. He said he was ready to wait for eternity to marry her if they had that long. She sat gingerly on her sister Grace’s bed and shut her eyes. Oh, how she hated what she was about to do, tell her father about a man in her life! She began to suspect that her mother hated her. This was the most difficult task she ever undertook. This should be a man’s job. It should have been Jamin who should have done it but her mother was very sure that the shock of a ‘Northerner’ as she called Jamin would kill her father since his blood pressure was unstable and quite high. Even today she had tried to stop her saying how her father’s BP went up after the previous night’s football match where Leventis beat Enyimba FC, and how she had come to add salt to the injury. She bit her lips and shut her eyes tightly saying into the air, “Let this cup pass from me, O my God!”
Sitting there, thoughts like angry sea waves rushed on her – Jamin’s parents’ rejection, her mother’s anger, her own fears and lastly Jamin’s faith.
Jamin’s faith seemed to her for a fleeting moment, as unreasonable as one who had escaped into a fool’s paradise where in his eyes, all was well. On her part, she lacked the spiritual muscle to exercise faith in God’s miracle-working intervention. She remembered the previous night how Jamin took her into Iveren’s garden and admonished her in the midst of scented air under a full moon. It was a perfect romantic scenery, the kind of setting perfect for a proposal, but he was angry with her for being weepy and unable to pull herself together when she told him about Bukky’s discovery that a certain tabloid mag republished their story from Kampus News. Also, Bukky telling her about all kinds of speculations in the campus about her, plus pestering her about why she abandoned the campus for Ivy’s house. Jamin was afraid that if two were not in agreement, God might not honour their request.
“Pull yourself together, will you?” He sounded faintly irritated. “You’re no longer a little girl – you’re on your way to becoming a married woman. There are no married girls in the world- all that the world has, are married women. That something terrible happened to you shouldn’t unsettle you so. The world isn’t an easy place. They say it isn’t a bed of roses, but I tell you even if it is, roses have thorns. You must make up your mind right here and now to win in the battles of life. The Lord told me about the swelling of the Jordan one day as I was praying- I think it was in Aba after seeing your mum. Now, your mum rejected me, did I kill myself? It wasn’t your mum who asked me to marry you, it was God. Scripture says if you run with footmen and they weary you, what would you do in the swelling of the Jordan? What should concern you is whether you are in the will of God- that’s all. And you’d soon be a soldier’s wife, so buckle up! If Bukky asks you again, tell her that you just found out that my parents didn’t want an Igbo girl for me, OK? Tell her we’re trying to work out something.”
All that J said didn’t make sense to Ulari, or explain why she should abandon the campus for Ivy’s house. She noted his tenses – he never said any negative thing without employing the past tense. As she sat there, sad and frightened, trying to ‘make up her mind to win in the battles of life’ as Jamin admonished her, she began to hear the sluggish footsteps of one of her mother’s two house-helps approaching her room. She expected her to continue down the corridor but she stopped at her door and knocked.
“Aunty, mpa na-akpo gi, ợnợ na palour,” the maid said and waited for her response.
Ulari’s heart jumped into her mouth – her father calling her!
“I…I ’m coming,” she faltered breathing heavily.
No more escape. The dice was cast! But as she walked down the short corridor to the sitting-room she knew that she would not be able to tell her father what brought her to Aba that day. Her frightened mind invented another story. In fact, she would feign ignorance of General Fiberesima when he would arrive! If Jamin would marry her, he would come and say it himself. As she arrived at this decision, she realised that it was what her mother was shooting for – she knew her courage would fail her.
When she entered their living room, she stopped and mentally reeled back as if hit by a sledge hammer. Seated in an armchair dressed in complete army regalia was Major-General Fiberesima! Her father also was seated but on a couch for two, and Chiefs Ibe and Ileka, their neighbours and her father’s close friends sat on the sofa side by side wearing envious looks in their black and brown velveteen long Igbo chieftaincy gowns upon same colour trousers. Their redcaps were in place and they clutched in their hands their chieftaincy fans. A huge bottle of hot drink (up to 5 litres in capacity) sat on the centre table. As she stepped in ‘NEPA took light.’ The men began to fan themselves with their chieftaincy hand fans. She took in the scene and died a thousand times. But being urged by her father, she advanced into the room greeting and curtseying to everyone.
“Use intercom, tell them to put on gen (generator), quick!” her father said, smiling (?) and the men began to discuss NEPA and the problem of their incompetence, but they could not hit the nail on the head. One that represented the government was there.
‘NEPA taking light’ just when she stepped in, Ulari knew was a bad omen. She pondered over it in her mind as she dialled her father’s shop with trembling hand. That she was shocked was an understatement, she was petrified. What on earth was going on? That was not her agreement with the general – they agreed he would come in the evening at a time known as ‘happy hour!’ Why was he here already? And why did her father send for her? And what were the chiefs doing in their house? They continued with general talks as Ulari died and rose several times until power came on and the air-conditioner began to hum and the fans above their heads began to whirl.
“What would we do without generators in Nigeria?” General Fiberesima asked in humour.
“It’s God’s provision for us,” one of the chiefs said.
Ulari’s father cleared his throat.
“Our guest,” he began with no trace of anger in his voice (?) “came as a forerunner of people who want to MARRY you (Ulari’s body shook), Ulari, my daughter.”
Ulari pinched herself, it hurt; it was no dream.
“He said he came from Lagos and works with the young man who wants to marry you. I understand the young man is from one of the most influential families in Nigeria and is a godly man and has a strong desire to marry you, my daughter. So, I sent for my friends and neighbours to come and hear what I’m hearing for it cannot be for my ears only. I want to ask you if you know the young man he’s talking about for (he looked to his friends and neighbours for affirmation) we do not marry with pictures. Gone are the days when parents decide for their children.”
The Chiefs nodded in agreement and muttered something about modern world and development.
“This is the twenty-first century and we’re moving forward and not backwards (he paused and raised his voice a little). By the way, where’s your mother? I sent for her a long time ago. I don’t know why she hasn’t come up…”
“Let me run down and call her …” Ulari offered quickly desirous to escape from the suffocating situation.
“No, no, no,” her father said with broad all-cheeks smile. “Stay, she’s not the one they want to marry, it’s you…”
“No, she’s not the one…” the Chiefs concurred.
Ulari gaped at her father completely flabbergasted. She suspected she was dreaming and tried to wake herself. It must be a dream; it was like a dream to her, her father accepting Jamin before meeting him!
“Why I’m asking you in his presence is for him to know that, for he’s a gentleman…”
“A fine officer…” Chief Ibe said in an admiring tone.
“A general, a veteran…” Chief Ileka added in order not to be outdone by Chief Ibe.
“…for him to know that the decision is entirely yours. It’s you they want to marry. He told us that the young man who wants to marry you is Tiv, from Gboko in Benue state and is of the lineage of the Tor…”
“That’s what they call their king….” Chief Ileka explained to Ulari.
“Just like our own Okpi of Item or Obi of Onitsha…” Chief Ibe added.
“No, it’s not like those ones at all, my friend. The Tor Tiv is king over the Tiv people and not over a village or a hamlet like our own traditional rulers,” Chief Ileka corrected.
Chief Ibe looked wounded. He was a short stocky man with the nodding habit of the all-knowing. It hurt him to be found to miss this simple fact for it just dawned on him that his friend’s observation was correct. Ulari suspected that they wanted a cut in whatever good thing would come out of it. Her mother came in. She stopped momentarily by the door to take in the scene in the room. Ulari was afraid to look at her. Her father spoke to her gesturing with his right hand.
“Mrs m, we have an important guest and my friends have come to help me receive him. (He cleared his throat) Bring kola, bring kola!”
Ulari’s eyes were still down – she was embarrassed for her mother.
“Ulari,” her mother began but her husband cut her short.
“Where’s Ugochi? Has she gone? I thought…” her father began.
“You asked only for me,” her mother said obviously puzzled looking at all the men in the living-room especially the soldier whom Ulari was sure she did not see when he came. She greeted them.
“I want everybody, Ugochi, Felix, you,” her husband told her.
“Ulari, go and call them and tell Oge to bring some garden eggs (añara) and okwa-ose (groundnut and pepper paste). Let her add oji Igbo (Igbo kola nut) not gworo (Hausa kola nut),” her mother said still baffled.
“No, let her not go, she’s the one they came for. She has not answered us…” Elder Ugorji said not unhappily.
Mrs Ori Ugorji used the intercom on the wall to call her shop and turned to tell them that the two were on their way. She sat down beside her husband.
Elder Ugorji repeated to his wife what happened and while he was doing that, Ulari kept her eyes respectfully down. She missed the reaction of her mother who evinced strong surprise. Senior and Felix walked in, their surprises registering on their faces. They greeted everyone and sat down as they were told by their father.
“Ulari, do you know the young man? And do you want to marry up Benue? (her mother started) It’s not very close to Aba…” her father asked her.
Ulari had been preparing her answer in her head in a way that would explain to all present that she did not come to know the ‘said young man’ through her ‘gallivanting all over Lagos with her friends’ as her eldest sister accused her. She chose her words carefully.
“Yes, I met him in the campus during the last cult riot when soldiers were deployed to my school to quell it.”
The Chiefs made some sympathetic noises, perhaps wishing their daughters were there and had met the soldier.
“So, he was one of the soldiers that came to your school…?” her father asked in a tone that good-naturedly encouraged more explanation.
“Yes, he came with them and they were supposed to protect girls on campus from the cult boys…”
“Oh, my children….” one of the Chiefs sympathized.
“So, he met me because my friend Bukky was hurt and he helped to take her to our health centre. Later, he came back to tell me that God told him that I’m his wife…” Ulari continued.
Oge brought the kola in a wooden tray with two sections for the kola and the groundnut paste placed on a regular tray. Beside it was a wooden hand-like container with native chalk on the palm-shaped area for presentation to guests. The maid greeted and placed the tray on the centre table and left. Felix passed round the native chalk for guests to touch and either rub on their neck or their wrist. It was a peace offering. Ulari’s father stretched his hand towards the tray of kola and blessed it. Felix got up and took the wooden tray to him first. He took a lobe of kola, broke it and put a piece in his mouth and then motioned to Felix to pass it around to his guests because the host must eat first whatever he presents to his guests in Igboland.
“Do you want to marry up Benue, Ulari, that’s what your father asked you?” her mother interjected[CE1] her voice impatient with anger. She was not interested in the ‘Mike Ejeagha’ story (Mike Ejeagha was a radio comedian who told long unconnected stories before arriving at his point in order to make jokes).
“No, leave her to tell how it happened,” her father interjected to the displeasure of his wife. And that he was smiling did not help her disposition towards him. “It’s important. So, what happened?” he asked Ulari obviously enjoying it and so were the Chiefs.
Ulari winced inwardly. “I… I…was not thinking of marriage at the time (senior shifted in her chair to show her mother her displeasure) and I thought I was too young…”
“Who said so? I married my wife when she was eighteen,” Chief Ibe said slapping his chest for emphasis.
“Me too,” Chief Ileka said. “It’s good to marry women when they’re young so that you can raise them up to your taste.”
Gen. Fiberesima could not restrain a nod believing he had stumbled on the mystery of his ill-luck in marriage for he had four failed marriages to his discredit.
“Let’s hear her, nwoke, man!” Chief Ibe said parting Chief Ileka’s knee, whom Ulari observed took offence.
“So, I said No that my father would not allow me to get married but he…he… encouraged me to pray (Ulari asked God silently to forgive her for lying) about it and my friends too (her mother sat up). I was afraid and could not pray, but Bisi’s mother did pray and told her that he’s my husband (here, Ulari’s mother cast a quick glance at her oldest daughter- a glance that said, you see these Yoruba people?) and all my friends said that God told them that he is…”
“Ulari, answer the question…” her mother began in exasperation but her husband hushed her again.
“Please, allow her to talk,” he pleaded with her.
“I suffered so much and I was trying to avoid God. I tried not to pray and I refused to see him when he visited me. I kept away from my room, my roommates can testify to this (her mother grunted and clapped her hands with a cleaning movement thoroughly displeased) then finally, finally, I heard God say to me that I should not be running from the young man that He sent him to me…”
“So, your answer is yes?” her father asked her his voice benevolent.
“Yes, papa,” she replied breathing down.
Now, the deed was done, no going back. Her mother clapped her hands three times now with a little sound and breathed loudly, “Hey!” – then she folded her hands across her chest in a lost manner.
Major-General Fiberesima took in all that with great amusement although he did not doubt Ulari’s story, but he thought it was too theatrical. He had seen the two together and knew that they had a strong mutual desire to be with each other, any other thing was story to him. He wondered how different it would be if any eligible young suitor like Jamin came for the hand of any of his girls. He would not put them through any stress. He lacked ethnic sentiments.
Ulari’s family surprised him. First, he had met her father in the middle of the day praying! He marvelled at the wonder of a full-grown man having the idle time on his hands in the middle of the day to spend in prayer. When the man finally emerged, the general was shocked that he was a mulatto! Well, it was Jamin’s choice so he had told the man in plain language that this kind of opportunity comes but once in a life time and this was a life time opportunity that came to knock on his door. Thereafter, he earnestly described his daughter’s suitor’s family to him and told him that he was a blessed man, because what is man’s daily toiling if not for a better life?
Ulari stole a glance at her mother. She was now calm and collected with the disposition of one who had made up one’s mind to bear the heavy burden. But Ulari knew she was seething beneath and her father would bear the brunt. Her mother hated shocking things happening to her before outsiders. If her husband had intimated her about this situation in the privacy of their room, she would have braced herself to handle it. Senior looked amazed while Felix and their father beamed with smiles. The Chiefs looked envious perhaps thinking of how this army general could help their neighbour and friend acquire the licence to import textiles or stockfish or become the sole distributor of Niger cement or steel or salt.
“You can go, Ulari,” her father said to her and turning to his wife said, “Oriaku m (my wealth eater), you too can go back to your shop. All of you can go…”
“Even me?” Felix asked not wanting to go.
“No, you can stay, let the women go.”
Major-General Fiberesima had never done any crazy thing in his life before, but he had a strong desire to help the young couple because despite his misfortune in marriage, he still believed in love. Coming from the neighbouring state, he knew how reluctant the Igbo man is to give his daughters’ hands in marriage to non-Igbos. But seeing the girl’s father, he had fresh fears. Even if the Tiv would waive their age-long tradition of their crown prince not marrying a non-Tiv, would they be able to wink at a mulatto? He wondered what sordid story lay in the man’s nativity seeing he was an elderly man. He doubted the possibility of a mixed marriage in Eastern Nigeria at the time he was born. The general knew without doubt that his involvement could cost him his job. He made a mental note to ask Jamin not to mention it to his father that he helped him talk to his ‘in-laws’ lest he engineer a forced retirement for him!
Mrs. Ori Grace Ugorji wept all that day in her room and never returned to her shop. She was not there to watch the army general leave amidst much waving of hands and laughter from her husband and the ‘foolish chiefs’. Neither did she let Ulari in when she knocked to let her know that she was on her way back to Lagos. Even Senior and Felix spoke to her from the outside of her locked bedroom, not the one she shared with her husband. But Felix was too elated to let such misplaced grief in his mother bother him.
Ori had worried when her last daughter got admission into the University of Lagos to read Music. She had gone to her husband with the worrying news for they had no idea she had chosen a faraway university. They let their children handle their own education just like most Easterners do except perhaps the very educated ones. Many eastern parents let their children choose and stumble through their education.
“They (meaning the government, the people in power, the Establishment) gave Ulari University of Lagos!” she announced with a troubled mien.
“Jisợs bụ eze! Jesus is king!” her husband said.
“For throwing your little girl as far away as Lagos?” she asked him.
“All of us cannot live and die in the east, let whoever has the strength, let him or her (Igbo language has no gender) go and see the world.”
Mrs Ori Ugorji had always suspected that her husband had an adventurous streak but now she was sure. He would want his daughter to live the life he could not live. “Lagos is too far and the…”
“It’s human beings that live there.”
“….and their culture is strange. Their moral values are poor.”
“Well, we’ve taught her well. If she joins them, she’s not our daughter. But I’ve no fear for Ulari. She has her head at home.”
“The culture is wild there.”
“Stop worrying woman. Jisos bu eze! I’ve told you before Jesus is Lord!”
Now, see what has happened, Ulari going to marry a Northerner! If she studied in the east there was no way the ugu man would have seen her.