My eldest sister Rike has always been the centre of attention in our house and how we all love her. She could have been my mother because by the time I was 10, she was at her national service. She would come home wearing her NYSC* uniform and I'd look at her thinking "soon that uniform will be mine and I can wear those brown boots too!".
Rike is strong and determined so no matter what was going on in the family, Rike was the one that solved it all and our parents relied on her in every way possible. Each morning, we must go to greet our parents and when papa sees Rike, he would smile and say "my daughter, may your days be long, you are more than a thousand sons to me"or something else just like that. One morning, mama cried after one of those pleasantries. She had bore no sons and for years, that was her sole worry. The universe as though to say her that her worries could solve nothing provided 6 daughters and her fears of being forcefully removed from her husband's house were never appeased until my father, tall and towering had told his sisters and mother to leave his house if they had no other business than his lack of sons. Story goes that mama spent days thanking father for his love. Rike says mama cooked efo riro elemi meje** for him and knelt every time she gave him his food. After a while she stopped but once in a while she would ask father if he wanted her to cook fresh catfish and he would never decline often he would say jokingly "did my mother come to visit?" and she would glare at him. When they argued, and it seemed like they were never going to see reason, Rike reminded mama of all father had done and reminded father of all he had sacrificed on account of mama; would they let it all go to waste?
Now that Rike had finished university, served and found a decent job, there was only one thing left to do; bring home a man that wanted to marry her. Once, during another of mama's marry so you can give us grandchildren talk Rike stomped out of the house crying, threatening never to return with shouts of "am I supposed to go chasing men here and there or shall I compromise and lose myself in order to please you and find a husband? The fate of the universe is not dependent on me procreating!" But I knew she would return, she is the chord that holds us together. When quarrels would rise even between papa and his sisters, none of them could resist Rike's smile and gentle words. Rike comforts and encourages. She is the strongest woman I know.
One day after Rike had returned and mama was worried that bringing up marriage would really push Rike away, mama called me to the kitchen. Mama's kitchen chatter were either secrets or chastisement, she would often pull the hem of your blouse and drag you silently with her swinging waist. "I don't know why you are so stupid in your life" she would start as though your crime was unforgivable, crimes that ranged from not doing the dishes to being caught all caked up in her make up at 13. This time, I wasn't the culprit, this time I was privileged with a secret.
"I have found your sister a husband" she whispered.
I thought she was joking only to turn around to a stone cold face; she was serious. She pulled my blouse tighter "I have found your sister a husband and you must not tell her", she could read the question in my eyes. "I'm only telling you because I can't bear the burden alone, please my daughter, don't look at me like that, you don't know how it feels to have your friends laugh behind your back, they don't know but I see them mocking me and I had to take action". She began to cry and even though I didn't pity her I put my arms round her. Perhaps I understood what societal obligations she felt she had towards her community of women for she had also participated in the whispers that surrounded other scandals.
Nine weeks later when Rike came home with Fola, I could barely contain my angst. I was cold towards Fola even though he smiled cheek to cheek obviously trying to please the family. Papa reached out his hand to shake him but he responded by prostrating flat on the floor. He rose as Papa placed his hands on his back all 6 foot 4 of him. Papa's contentment could not be hidden for he is a proud Yoruba man and culture is his first love. Rike had been wise to arm her man. After we ate, Papa asked that he and mama speak to Fola alone, Rike was all too glad to drag me into my room. She gazed around at the posters of Beautiful Nubia, Fela and AdeSiji. " you really are like Papa, even though you deny it, I can see it, just like I see that something isn't right. Do you not like Fola?"
******
Church bells, ostentatious head ties, matching multicoloured accessories and the continuous yells of " a ma ku orire o" seemed to me the makings of a nightmare. I just wished it was over, I wish I had had the guts to tell her or to even just tell Papa but every time I tried, all I felt was a lump in my throat. As I sat in the pew waiting for the dreaded question I began to wonder exactly why Fola would have agreed to such a grandiose plan of deceit. Why didn't he just find another woman? Why our Rike? I thought of how much Rike seems to want him, didn't that mean other women flocked too? Even the adoration I had for Rike couldn't convince me that she was such a catch that this ruse was what it would take to marry her. I was jolted back to reality at the loud piercing scream of mama's cry and the gasps of the crowd present. I looked up to find that Fola, Fola had raised his hand and confidently said "I object".
As though he had prepared his words, Fola proceeded to explain himself. Mama was still wailing like a widow at the wake of her husband and threatening to jump in his grave. Papa tried but failed to comfort her, patting her second by second. Rike stood, frozen. Defeated. To the shock of the congregation, he shares the details of the past months, his deep love and respect for Rike, his promise to protect her and shield her from all hurt and as such could not marry her at that point unless she knew the truth. Murmurs ran the room; questions as to why he waited this long, couldn't he have told her after the wedding and how did a mother even consider such things. No one noticed Rike walk away from the church. I ran after her leaving my sisters as they had gathered round Fola. Papa trying to resuscitate mama who had fainted before the end of Fola's monologue.
Outside, Rike sat on the muddy grass wiping her tears with her veil. I sat with her in a trance like manner.
" I waited, I was patient"
"I thought...." she sighed
"what shall I do now?"
I had no words, I was as guilty as Fola. Probably more. What would become of our relationship if Rike were to find out I knew all along. That I had betrayed her like everyone else. I cursed mama and bit my lip. "why did she drag me into all this" I cursed my weakness and the days I could have told her. Moments lost in breaths of fear and bridled tongue.
Rike pulled my dress calling my attention. I looked up at her my eyes blood red filled with tears that refused to fall. I couldn't hold her gaze. "You knew didn't you?, YOU KNEW!" the thunder of her voice was only surpassed by the strike of her palm across my face, before I could try for escape she drags me by the sleeve of my dress to my feet. There was no more barrier to my tears. They flowed; but their rivers could not cleanse me of my woes. "Sister Rike please, am sorry please, please" my pleadings were barely audible hidden by continuous whimpers. Hers, and mine. If they were heard, it wouldn't have helped; Rike was relentless. I stopped struggling, stopped weeping and took my beating in quietness; there was no salvation to come, the spectacle in the church allowed no witnesses.
When her strength was gone, she paused, raised her hands once again only to lower them to her sides. After what seemed like years of her peering at me feeling all but her agony and hate, she looked into the distance and then back to me. "Stand up" she said, I did fearing more fists if I declined. I wanted her to love me again. I would do anything she asked. she held to her waist and she sobbed, bawling as I had never seen her before, I was helpless and confused I felt insignificant, unworthy to even attempt to console her. She begins to walk away still fits of tearing barely stopping for air and I plodding along behind her, leaving behind the wedding party.
What will become of us?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* NYSC: National youth service corps
** Efo riro: a rich vegetable soup, native to the Yoruba people
Rike is strong and determined so no matter what was going on in the family, Rike was the one that solved it all and our parents relied on her in every way possible. Each morning, we must go to greet our parents and when papa sees Rike, he would smile and say "my daughter, may your days be long, you are more than a thousand sons to me"or something else just like that. One morning, mama cried after one of those pleasantries. She had bore no sons and for years, that was her sole worry. The universe as though to say her that her worries could solve nothing provided 6 daughters and her fears of being forcefully removed from her husband's house were never appeased until my father, tall and towering had told his sisters and mother to leave his house if they had no other business than his lack of sons. Story goes that mama spent days thanking father for his love. Rike says mama cooked efo riro elemi meje** for him and knelt every time she gave him his food. After a while she stopped but once in a while she would ask father if he wanted her to cook fresh catfish and he would never decline often he would say jokingly "did my mother come to visit?" and she would glare at him. When they argued, and it seemed like they were never going to see reason, Rike reminded mama of all father had done and reminded father of all he had sacrificed on account of mama; would they let it all go to waste?
Now that Rike had finished university, served and found a decent job, there was only one thing left to do; bring home a man that wanted to marry her. Once, during another of mama's marry so you can give us grandchildren talk Rike stomped out of the house crying, threatening never to return with shouts of "am I supposed to go chasing men here and there or shall I compromise and lose myself in order to please you and find a husband? The fate of the universe is not dependent on me procreating!" But I knew she would return, she is the chord that holds us together. When quarrels would rise even between papa and his sisters, none of them could resist Rike's smile and gentle words. Rike comforts and encourages. She is the strongest woman I know.
One day after Rike had returned and mama was worried that bringing up marriage would really push Rike away, mama called me to the kitchen. Mama's kitchen chatter were either secrets or chastisement, she would often pull the hem of your blouse and drag you silently with her swinging waist. "I don't know why you are so stupid in your life" she would start as though your crime was unforgivable, crimes that ranged from not doing the dishes to being caught all caked up in her make up at 13. This time, I wasn't the culprit, this time I was privileged with a secret.
"I have found your sister a husband" she whispered.
I thought she was joking only to turn around to a stone cold face; she was serious. She pulled my blouse tighter "I have found your sister a husband and you must not tell her", she could read the question in my eyes. "I'm only telling you because I can't bear the burden alone, please my daughter, don't look at me like that, you don't know how it feels to have your friends laugh behind your back, they don't know but I see them mocking me and I had to take action". She began to cry and even though I didn't pity her I put my arms round her. Perhaps I understood what societal obligations she felt she had towards her community of women for she had also participated in the whispers that surrounded other scandals.
Nine weeks later when Rike came home with Fola, I could barely contain my angst. I was cold towards Fola even though he smiled cheek to cheek obviously trying to please the family. Papa reached out his hand to shake him but he responded by prostrating flat on the floor. He rose as Papa placed his hands on his back all 6 foot 4 of him. Papa's contentment could not be hidden for he is a proud Yoruba man and culture is his first love. Rike had been wise to arm her man. After we ate, Papa asked that he and mama speak to Fola alone, Rike was all too glad to drag me into my room. She gazed around at the posters of Beautiful Nubia, Fela and AdeSiji. " you really are like Papa, even though you deny it, I can see it, just like I see that something isn't right. Do you not like Fola?"
******
Church bells, ostentatious head ties, matching multicoloured accessories and the continuous yells of " a ma ku orire o" seemed to me the makings of a nightmare. I just wished it was over, I wish I had had the guts to tell her or to even just tell Papa but every time I tried, all I felt was a lump in my throat. As I sat in the pew waiting for the dreaded question I began to wonder exactly why Fola would have agreed to such a grandiose plan of deceit. Why didn't he just find another woman? Why our Rike? I thought of how much Rike seems to want him, didn't that mean other women flocked too? Even the adoration I had for Rike couldn't convince me that she was such a catch that this ruse was what it would take to marry her. I was jolted back to reality at the loud piercing scream of mama's cry and the gasps of the crowd present. I looked up to find that Fola, Fola had raised his hand and confidently said "I object".
As though he had prepared his words, Fola proceeded to explain himself. Mama was still wailing like a widow at the wake of her husband and threatening to jump in his grave. Papa tried but failed to comfort her, patting her second by second. Rike stood, frozen. Defeated. To the shock of the congregation, he shares the details of the past months, his deep love and respect for Rike, his promise to protect her and shield her from all hurt and as such could not marry her at that point unless she knew the truth. Murmurs ran the room; questions as to why he waited this long, couldn't he have told her after the wedding and how did a mother even consider such things. No one noticed Rike walk away from the church. I ran after her leaving my sisters as they had gathered round Fola. Papa trying to resuscitate mama who had fainted before the end of Fola's monologue.
Outside, Rike sat on the muddy grass wiping her tears with her veil. I sat with her in a trance like manner.
" I waited, I was patient"
"I thought...." she sighed
"what shall I do now?"
I had no words, I was as guilty as Fola. Probably more. What would become of our relationship if Rike were to find out I knew all along. That I had betrayed her like everyone else. I cursed mama and bit my lip. "why did she drag me into all this" I cursed my weakness and the days I could have told her. Moments lost in breaths of fear and bridled tongue.
Rike pulled my dress calling my attention. I looked up at her my eyes blood red filled with tears that refused to fall. I couldn't hold her gaze. "You knew didn't you?, YOU KNEW!" the thunder of her voice was only surpassed by the strike of her palm across my face, before I could try for escape she drags me by the sleeve of my dress to my feet. There was no more barrier to my tears. They flowed; but their rivers could not cleanse me of my woes. "Sister Rike please, am sorry please, please" my pleadings were barely audible hidden by continuous whimpers. Hers, and mine. If they were heard, it wouldn't have helped; Rike was relentless. I stopped struggling, stopped weeping and took my beating in quietness; there was no salvation to come, the spectacle in the church allowed no witnesses.
When her strength was gone, she paused, raised her hands once again only to lower them to her sides. After what seemed like years of her peering at me feeling all but her agony and hate, she looked into the distance and then back to me. "Stand up" she said, I did fearing more fists if I declined. I wanted her to love me again. I would do anything she asked. she held to her waist and she sobbed, bawling as I had never seen her before, I was helpless and confused I felt insignificant, unworthy to even attempt to console her. She begins to walk away still fits of tearing barely stopping for air and I plodding along behind her, leaving behind the wedding party.
What will become of us?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* NYSC: National youth service corps
** Efo riro: a rich vegetable soup, native to the Yoruba people
2 comments:
I like. Awesome attempt to throw light on this issue of pressure to get married prevalent in our societies and the damage it causes.
I like the narration style too.
thanks Hafsah, appreciate it :)
Post a Comment