Nilefa: The Union

CHAPTER 39

It was 11:00 a.m. The drums went off blasting as the knot was announced to be tied. Fato kura was a hue of Kuluw (babban riga), branded with exclusive Bama caps. Every look spoke for itself, and the eloquence of it could not be measured. It was a wedding to remember.
 
The men that gathered for the fatiha had just started to leave for the reception. It was organized to be held in the great halls of the Fato. 
 
More than a hundred dishes were prepared, both local and international. Non-alcoholic drinks of all kinds were served. The stewards stood on every corner of the hall, neatly dressed, handling their job to serve the guests seamlessly.
 
It was in full Kanuri style, as the guests were made to sit on carpets cushioned with small pillows while the food was served on short wooden round tables.
 
Abdulsalam stood outside the gates of the house, leaning on his car, crossing his almost invisible legs in the large Kuluw. Kassim stood next to him, shaking hands with their friends and other people who came to congratulate his best friend. His smile was so big, one would mistake him for the groom.
 
Kassim wore a light-blue Kuluw with a Rawaram cap, just like the rest of the groomsmen, contrasting the groom's white Kuluw. Abdulsalam's was adorned with carton-brown handworked embroidery. His dark skin complimented the matching cap of Bama, which rested just above his eyebrows, and the slight prominence of his occiput, revealing the dark sprouts of hair from his fresh haircut. 
 
His eyes, hidden behind a pair of black sunglasses, filled his presence with essence. He knew it. From the way people greeted him with caution and the economy of their speeches, he had succeeded in making it obvious that he was not in a chatty mood.
 
The voices turned into random murmurs in his ears. He only stretched his hand out for a handshake and forced a smile, mumbling an occasional "ameen" to every next person in the greeting queue. His mind was neither with them nor with the roaring amplifier that received praise from the families. He couldn't care less for the drumming and ululating that threatened to tear his eardrums. His mind was with her. 
 
After he'd bared his heart before her at the pitch, his vow to her felt empty, knowing he was hiding an important truth from her. He was on the verge of a second marriage that she had no clue about.
 
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The Mai Kura mansion was a display of expensive gambara (a combination of two different colors of fabric sewn into one), laces, and laffaya. The smell of exquisite Khumra was all one could smell. 
 
In Kanuri weddings, as soon as the fatiha was said, the bride's aunts (paternal) would perform a purifying rite on the bride called the K3la Tul (hair washing), as custom provides. The aunts would help the bride perform ablution, then proceed with the hair washing.
 
Aunt Ruwaya piggybacked Yasmeen like she were a little girl and led the way as the women sang and clapped behind them. They left Yasmeen's room and went down to the hall where the older women gathered. 
 
Aunt Hauwa poured water for Yasmeen to perform ablution in a plastic bath. When Yasmeen finished, she and Aunt Ruwaya washed Yasmeen's hair with scented shampoo and oiled it with fragrant oils. After Aunt Hauwa had dried her hair, a prayer was said for the newlyweds.
 
Yasmeen was taken to the gallery and left with Kolo to plait her hair. It was made into K3le Yasku (three folds), which was the age-old hairstyle for brides in Kanuri Land. 
 
Yasmeen didn't have friends here, so her cousins kept her company instead. Raihan was there. She had finally won Aunt Ruwaya over to let her stay throughout the wedding. Sister Ummi, Aunt Hauwa's nurse, was also there. She was the closest thing to a friend Yasmeen had in Nilefa after Baby. 
 
Kolo was swift with the plaiting. She was finished in no time, considering Yasmeen's long, voluminous hair. She packed the hair on the front in two braids, one on each side, and let the hair on the back splay. 
 
"Oh my God, Yasmeen, you look different!" Raihan exclaimed.
 
Yasmeen smiled shyly. She couldn't wait to look at herself in the mirror. 
 
"Can I see?" She sought Kolo's permission because lately, it looked like everything she did wasn't proper.
 
"Of course you can." Kolo answered, smiling. She was impressed by Yasmeen's mindfulness of everything she'd been taught, including asking for permission before she did anything. She might be as well brought up as possible in the UK, but Nilefa was in a totally different space. The people would live to tell the tale of the slightest error, especially during the events of one's wedding.
 
She had told Yasmeen the story of a bride who smiled so wide on her wedding day that, overwhelmed with joy, she gave her entourage directions to her new home. The bride had grown old and toothless; her children had grandchildren; and no one had forgotten the story and that it would be told even after her death.
 
Kolo didn't expect Yasmeen to take it seriously, but she did. She was careful about everything and did not want to give people the chance to tell such stories about her. She would surely make a fine wife. Kolo doubted neither Yasmeen nor herself, for she'd been the best at what she did.
 
Kolo held Yasmeen's hand and walked her to the front of the mirror. Yasmeen complained on the way about the weight of the gold jewelry on her neck and the humongous earrings that were weighing her down. She had been made to wear them since early in the morning. Yasmeen went quiet when she saw her reflection in the mirror.
 
Yasmeen could not recognize herself. She was the splitting image of her mother's wedding picture. The hair, the jewelry, the dressing? She was Aishe! 
 
In the evening, Yasmeen was made to dress in Chi'a Mai for the Kaulu (a sticky plant when soaked in water), where the bride receives gifts from everyone, including family, friends, and guests. 
 
Dr. Abdulkarim and Yasmeen's uncles and cousins were invited first to touch her hands with Kaulu. They kept the gifts, which were mostly cash, in a hamper that sat in front of Aunt Ruwaya, who was sitting beside Yasmeen on the soft heap of carpets. 
 
Yasmeen had her head down all the while. She was sobbing quietly as the tears fell non-stop down her face. 
 
When it was Habeeb's turn, he lifted Yasmeen's chin, raising her head. He pulled her cheek, making her smile tearfully. He touched her hand with the Kaulu, then kept two bundles of cash in the humper.
 
"Don't be stingy," Raihan, who was sitting behind Yasmeen, said tauntingly. "You can do better."
 
"I'm saving for your wedding. The unlucky guy would need some help." Habeeb returned the favor, making Yasmeen and a few others laugh. Habeeb stood up and left, ignoring the deadly look Raihan was giving him. 
 
Sadiq and Amir also came to touch the Kaulu on Yasmeen. They were both holding cash that their father had given them. Yasmeen was crying profusely when they were done. She pulled them in in a tight hug, weeping loudly. 
 
Sadiq fought his tears back, maintaining his cool as he couldn't be seen crying at his sister's wedding, while Amir wailed even louder as he saw Yasmeen cry. 
 
"Calm down, Yasmeen. You are making them cry." Aunt Hauwa said."Let go. People are waiting."
 
Yasmeen's face was drenched with tears when she let go of the boys. Their blue getzner, Kuluw, was spotted with Yasmeen's tears. Sadiq adjusted his cap and walked away, while Amir sat half on her lap, refusing to leave.
 
Meanwhile
 
Abdulsalam was busy greeting the guests, who were leaving to catch their flights. Bashir was there too, so it was easy for him to escape the smothering crowd.
 
Abdulsalam dragged Kassim with him out of the hall to the back of the building, where his car was parked. 
 
"Take me to Meena's house." 
 
"What?" Kassim asked, baffled.
 
"I have to see her."
 
"I didn't know you were planning to do the halal hug; we would have earlier organized with the guys."
 
"I have to speak to her."
 
"It's late, Abdulsalam."
 
"I have to speak to her, Kassim. I can't continue to keep it from her."
 
"Keep what from her, actually?"
 
"The wedding maa is arranging with Kubra."
 
"Come on, man. Why does it bother you so much that you have finally found peace? Are you so keen on ruining your happiness?"
 
"It will not mean a thing if I am keeping this from her."
 
"It's not happening anytime soon. You have all the time in the world to tell her. You don't have to mess everything up on your wedding day."
 
"I am not sure. She's already flooding my email with her pictures. Look."
 
Abdulsalam showed Kassim the pictures in which Kubra was dressed in Chi'a Mai with henna and bridal braids.
 
"Look, this doesn't mean anything. You know the woman you tied the knot with, and it's not Kubra. She's playing you because she knows you get worked up easily."
 
"Let's go."
 
"Where?"
 
"My friend, I just told you where."
 
"You are not telling Yasmin about this."
 
"I have to. I cannot keep this from her if I want her to trust me."
 
"Look, Abdulsalam, you must not say a word about this to her."
 
Kassim stopped talking when a few people approached them to say goodbye, but he still held on to Abdulsalam's hand, which he had on the car's door handle. 
 
Kassim dragged Abdulsalam to a corner, t before warning him about what he was trying to do. 
 
"Why must you ruin everything? What use is this information to Yasmeen this evening?"
 
"You do not understand. I -.."
 
"I know you love her, and you don't want to feel the guilt, but you are better off guilty for a day or two than a lifetime of regret, ruining this day for her."
 
"I love her?"
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Chi'a Mai
a Kanuri traditional attire worn by brides on their wedding day, in present times. It used to be worn on special occasions back in the day.