#1

 #28

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Today is our first wedding anniversary. Alhamdulilah (All Praise Belongs To God) We pray to see many more, insha Allah.

By this time last year my husband (henceforth M) was sweating on the nose while I was chilling like a villian. I made sure there were no potential-pre-nikai-stress-induced-black-eye-patches. It was done in my hometown at the insistence of my dad, ‘because that’s the way it’s done in our culture’. So my in-laws had to be ferried all the way from Lagos. About thirty of them arrived in a convoy of two vans and three cars. We’re of different tribes, you see; he Yoruba and me mostly Batonu (though half Efik). With very little known about my tribe and all the talk about a village wedding, they were shocked on arrival to find it equipped with electricity and water.

Although my people are mostly Muslims, culture still holds sway over religion when it comes to such matters as these. That is not to say the Islamic aspects are wanting in any way, but they’re not the main dish, if you get my meaning. For instance prior to the marriage is the engagement; a lengthy and tedious process for the un-initiated.

Firstly, to state his intentions, the man has to offer the bride-to-be’s (BTB) family a bowl of kolanuts and some money. The BTB’s grandfather, maternal and paternal uncles gather around to deliberate (in case you’re wondering the father of the bride has no part in the process. If he should try to stick his nose in, he will be called shameless and uncouth). They find out as much as they can about the groom-to-be (GTB) his family, his background, where he works, his character, etc. If they are satisfied they return the bowl without the contents. Needless to say it’s a bad sign if bowl and contents are returned because it means the engagement has been refused. *Islamically, their job description is essentially that of a wali, sans perks*

Upon receiving the bowl, the GTB is given a date for the proper engagement. On that day he would be given a (long) list of things to bring along as gifts for his BTB as well as that same bowl with more kolanuts. This gifts are meant to be a show of love, commitment and a sign of being able to cater for her material needs. They include (mandatory) a set of boxes to be filled with clothes of varios kinds especially those of native prints, shoes, bags, jewelries, head ties, personal effects, faminine stuff like perfumes, cosmetics, etc., a Qur’an, and a praying mat.

 It was at this point M suggested we elope to Dubai. Being the only daughter of my father I told him he might as well ask me to stick my face in a toilet (or something to that effect). I didn’t like it as much as he, but I rationalized that I wasn’t the one giving myself away, hence it wasn’t up to me to set the terms. He knows I’d fought with my parents in the past over religion to the point that they nearly disowned me. I wanted to get married not get into another row.

 

In the past it was customary for all these items to be paraded around the village to show people that the girl was marrying into a well off home and to publicize her engagement. That practice was stopped when people began using it to show off. Some went as far as borrowing items from relatives to ‘boost’ the BTB’s status. The other reason was to prevent the evil eye (if you don’t believe in black magic, never say it in the presence of a village-cooked Batonu fetishist, cause you might wake up with your eyes at the back of your head!) In my case only close relatives viewed it and they prayed over it.

At this point the marriage date is fixed (also by the BTB’s family). The grooms only obligation after all these is to see to the reception. While in Yoruba culture the brides family hosts the reception because technically, her family is welcoming the groom to her home when they come for her hand, in Batonu culture, the man is taking something ‘valuable’ away from them so he has to feed everyone that comes to partake in his joy.

 

The groom has provided the bride with the contents of her wardrobe, it is now the turn of the brides family to provide the wardrobe as well as other accessories for them to equip their home with. My parents got me a wardrobe set, a bed, a sewing machine, kitchen utensils, sets of cutleries, a blender, a cooker, an oven, vases and everything else I would have needed to use in the kitchen. My Mom also gave me my inheritance most of her jewelry, her Rolex wristwatch, a set of gold necklace with bracelets and some traditional beaded necklace set. Thankfully I’m not much of a gold person, neither is she. 

They also provide food stuff, so at least in the first two weeks after marriage; the bride wouldn’t need to go to the market. My Mom told me her own people, the Efiks, would do all this and lastly thread a needle before handing it over to the BTB. All these were meant to make the woman feel less like a fish out of water in her marital (new) home.    

My grandfather (May Allah grant him Jannah) handpicked the cow that was to be slaughtered from the Fulani herdsmen at the cattle farm himself, and made sure it never left his sight. Whole cows have been known to disappear into thin air just to bring embarrassment to the families involved. On the night before my wedding he walked it himself from his house to where we were encamped. He didn’t wait to see me because Batonu men don’t show emotion. He snuck away under the cover of darkness. It was after he left I was told he came by. It was much later my Dad was telling me how deeply moved he was that his grand daughter was getting married. (Oh, and Batonu women aren’t supposed to show too much emotion either. For instance they are not supposed to cry out during childbirth. I can’t wait to test that one!)  

TO BE CONTINUED…