Exactly four years ago, I said yes to my husband.
I can still remember planning our traditional wedding like it was yesterday, how hectic it all was. In fact, I wasn't happy about the behavior of some close individuals, which almost stole my smile but failed. I had the best time of my life, anyway.
The list of items given to my husband was outrageous. I felt it was so unfair for the list to remain untouched or unadjusted, passed on from generation to generation, especially considering the constant rise in the price of goods.
The quantity of Malt requested was about twenty cartons. At the time, I remember we bought them at ₦3,500($2.20) per carton. Right now, a single carton goes for ₦12,000($7.73) in just the space of four years. Wow! That list seriously needs to be revisited.
Before the items on the list were presented, the bride price had to be paid. It was my husband’s father who made the payment. The whole thing played out like a market scene: my people would name their price, and then my in-laws would bargain until the amount was brought down to an agreed figure. Once the payment was made, a dried leaf was handed over to them.
The only way the gathering would know that a lady’s bride price had been paid was when the in-laws came out holding the leaf. They would raise it high, and their people would clap and cheer loudly. It was truly a thing of joy.
That day was magical for me. After the bride price was paid, I had to find my husband in the crowd, presenting him with a cup of palm wine to signify that he was the chosen one. I danced as I searched for him, it was all so fun.
I changed my dress twice, doing both the first and second outings. The first was for greeting our visitors while the second was for presenting wine. One thing I can’t forget is how my fashion designer changed my style to suit her own taste. I was pissed, especially considering how much I had spent on the material.
Planning an occasion is not an easy job; you really have to prepare your mind for possible disappointment. I bought wrappers for six girls who would dance along with me, but two of them, over some unimportant excuse refused to show up. They kept the wrappers in their wardrobes and neither attended nor informed me they wouldn’t. It was a miracle I still glowed on my wedding day.
The DJ was another story. He played songs I didn’t give him having his own fun at my wedding. Even when I sent my sister to tell him to stick to the playlist I provided, he managed to play just two. Only God knows what happened to the remaining twelve. My husband and I had carefully selected songs we could vibe to, but the DJ did his worst.
The truth is, thank God the pictures didn’t show our dissatisfaction. Instead, they showed happiness, and pure radiant joy that everything turned out well in the end.
I feel nostalgic as I scroll through my gallery, viewing images from that special day and reliving every moment of how our wedding went.