Never Again, Social Media Love

Weddings

Weddings are one of my worst occasions. I know what you're thinking but the answer is No! I don't hate weddings because im not married or I have been served multiple breakfasts by men. I simply don't like the process of it. The stress, the money spending, demands traditional rituals, the outfit, and getting everything prepared. It's the simple weddings I'll stand for always.
A small private one with my few friends and family.
My mom won't agree to this because she is a typical African woman.

What do you mean? You telling me women from the organization, the women from the church won't be attending.
You're such a joker. Anyway, this topic will be valid when we've seen a serious man.
This was from one of those random conversations with my mom.

Traditional weddings in Nigeria are the most stressful occasion of all time. Can't a man just be joined with a woman just as it is done with the Americans? The thought of it weighed me out. Nigeria alone is stressed. My last time in Nigeria was 7 years ago at my dad's funeral. And it was my worst experience. These elders have no feelings of any sort. They were so demanding, not minding how much we needed to mourn. But here is another wedding that would be taking us back to my country.

We flew down with my mom, siblings, and a few friends to support the union. Craig is from Nigeria, so it was pressing that they have a proper traditional wedding.

We arrived in Nigeria late in the evening because of the delay with our flight. We drove into our family compound in the village, the one my dad had left for us but mostly occupied by our relatives when we were not around. The place was just the same, bleat of a goat in the backyard, chickens scattered around the compound, elders sitting with their drinks before them, women tying their wrappers around their chest, some on the waist busting around for the traditional marriage. I miss my dad, life was never the same again. I mean these people are hypocrites. My mind wandered when they were introducing themselves to us just to get money from my dad or get close to us when we're back for holidays or Thanksgiving.

"Oh you remember when you used to bla bla
I carried you when you were only 3... I'm the cousin to your grandmother".
How many headaches I get from those long boring introductions. It was totally the opposite when I lost my dad. These people are rude and heartless. I never wisbgor anyone to lose the head of their family. The head truly is a coverage.

As I approach the entrance, I bent to kneel to every one of them. My mom had instilled this in us. Respect to elders meant; greeting with your head down or kneeling, your mouth shut when they're talking and the manner in your speech and gestures.
I wore that awkward pretentious smile, while my ears was tickled to by the words which came out from their mouth, a mix of broken English  and thick native Ibibio accent which I hardly get to understand.

Reminds me of when my parents tried all their best to make sure they got us a language tutor. It was terrible, I never learnt anything good but how to insult or understand what my mom when she uses those curse out words on us on days we didn't get to do our chores. Before we realised it we were already cursing ourselves with. That led my mom to end the whole language classes at home.

"No more Ibibio." She warned us during our family meetings, mostly on days when there was conflict at home. I wasn't bothered, I didn't learn many things apart from the curse ones.

I stared at their mouth as they spoke this language with so much passion. Even when they tried to pronounce some English words, the thick accent was obvious. I couldn't wait to get inside the house, after such a long journey, I ached so much for a cold bath, some change of clothes, and rest. Emma was with me the whole time, she was a stoned one with no human sympathy for people like the elders, also coupled with what she heard about how badly these people treated us since the death of my dad. Emma neither bent nor greeted with a smile. I knew she was going to ask me questions once we got to the room.