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HUSBAND OR MATERIAL?


“Look at his feet. Check that he puts on good shoes. Make sure that mohawk, gallas and parting are not part of his hair-cuts. Hey! Don’t forget the skinny jeans and body hug shirts. Yes! Remember he must be educated. God forbid he is from the East; an Anambra indigene! Pray he has the AA genotype. Well… he could be comfortable but rich would be better-the best. Make life easy for everyone by ensuring he is God-fearing, a Christian. Also, it won’t be a crime to google his family history to be on the safe side. But remember that height 

  is a necessity these days for success. Don’t introduce your lineage to the dwarf society. Don’t worry… nothing is impossible for them that trust God. It is well my daughter.”









I would like to travel to space, another planet; Pluto, Mars, Neptune, Jupiter. Earth has not favoured me so far. Mother’s words are my morning alarm and night lullaby. I wait, breathe, sleep, talk, dance, eat and drink her words not because they are poetically profound nor musically rhythmic. On the contrary, it is because they are the keys to my social status: single or married. Such keys… They seem to be in murky waters - in a black pool on a rainy day in June. They seem to be my Ultimate Search, my Survival, my Big Brother Africa. The question is when will the trophy be mine?


Mother’s Christian roots have imbibed in me the culture of obedience. They have cloaked me with a thick cape too heavy for me to fly with. But I don’t want to fly. I want to walk to feel the cool breeze of the August break tickling my clothes and raising my skin pores. But how can I say no to her advice; her command? I still see her selling drinks at night, mid-night and day to raise 15000 for my fees. I still see her pretending to be comfortable on the edge of our rickety couch with me by her side, sleeping in a dripping room, by a corner close to the window blessing us with air. What about the times she’d fling a bottle at me to tell me never to sit with my legs wide open - I knew when her customers refused to pay. A hundred naira is like an idol to me because it took Mother hours to acquire it for the purchase of our first meal for the day, beans…Although it took an eternity to be done, I ate along with my siblings and we listened to her folktales under the staircase outside the house. I learnt not to laugh at Enrike’s parents without arms or legs, always rolling their way through their house like a gust of wind, lest my mouth became like that of the rabbit-as the story went. I learnt and learnt and learnt.


“I am three decades and five now, mother. I have decided to visit space since your HE has not resulted from my morning alarm and night lullaby. The HE I have found is like Enrique’s parents rushing into my life with an innocent smile. He told me by his actions that life can be peaceful even if one is from Iraq, that shoes can be fine even if one had horrid toes or feet, that afro can make one look older even if one is just two decades and five, that comfort can be deduced from a meagre salary of twenty-five thousand, and that humility is a “fearer” of God. I have kissed him sincerely, hugged him happily and comforted him willingly. I have visited his one-room self-contain, cooked him three hundred Naira meals and told him stories of my life. I have met his mother. She is a simple woman with hopes and dreams for her son. She has received me into the family and promises to teach me how to speak Igbo. My legs are halfway in. I write to know if I can put my two legs in. I write to know if you will wish us well, or not? I write to know if I should dream of Mars or Jupiter and plan for the rainy day. Tell me if he can be an exception. Tell me if your women organization will not report me to the society as a stain to the family. Tell me if my position as the first child will not be ripped off of me. Will father turn in his grave? Will Uncle Paul come to the city to perform some rituals on my behalf? Before your judgement pray for mother and child to make the right decision. Pray for the family to remain united. Pray for wisdom. It’s either Mars becomes my home or the Bible shows me your husband material. Whichever way… I am turning grey. Thin jeans are the new black, Mohawk is the new low cut and yahoo is the new wealth. I await your judgement.”


I have been waiting for a month now, no reply from my mother. If she has not cut all ties with me I would wait longer. The clock is now my hope, my life, my scare. Today is another new year in my life so I hear a knock on the door and it turns out to be my Prince. With a cupcake in hand, I welcome him in but my countenance turns him into a motivational speaker. He tells me the story of Job; I tell him I’m a woman. He tells me patience is the key, I tell him there’s no such key called patience; Mother’s reply seemed to be the only key I needed. Bang! I hear my door slamming the wall. It was no strong wind. Mother was right in front of me flesh and blood, huge like never before with her gele tied to her waist. Then I heard her husky voice say:

“Olumide! We will both die today if you choose the path your bloody letter stated!”

It wasn’t a letter speaking; I had expected one. A letter would have saved her the sight of him sitting so close to me with hands on my lap. A letter would have saved us all the deafening echoes of her voice. A letter would have saved him from trying to show respect by greeting, bowing like the Yorubas practice. Mother’s strength came from the pit of hell as she kept on screaming:

“Are you the devil that has come to devour my daughter?”


With love in his eyes trying to explain, I saw him staggering to gain balance from Mother’s sudden shove and push. I saw his slender body marrying the cold floor. I saw the wooden edge of the chair welcoming his head to sit. And then I heard the musical sound of a crack. It reminded me of cracking my Christmas chicken bone, the only one I had throughout the year. Mother had cracked a bone; the bone of my bone. As he lay down all I could think of was a new planet, an exception from the earth.

A shared experience.

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