My sister's Wedding

Igba nkwu

“Mechie cooler ahu, ugba ahu aburo maka mmadu niile,” my mother yelled at me when I opened the yellow cooler filled with sweet scenting ugba.

In fact, my mothed had practically yelled at me the entire day. No, no, not the entire day. She had yelled at me since I arrived in our village, Arondizuogu, few days ago. It was my younger sister, Nmasinachi's “igba nkwu”, traditional wedding and it was the talk of the entire town. Kelechi, her husband, was from a very wealthy home in Idemili and he was also doing good for himself. Sometimes I thought my mother was more excited than Nma. She talked about Nma's wedding at every gathering she went for and boasted of Kelechi's wealth. My father had cautioned her at some point, it was getting annoying.

My mother rubbed this recent development in my face.
“You see your youngest sister, Nma, she’s just 22 and she’s getting married. Where’s your own husband Adanna?”

“Your immediate younger sister Nmesommachi is also married now and expecting a child. Where is your husband Adannaya oh?”

I was always dumbfounded when she started the charades. She felt that at my age of 28,  even though I looked younger than my age, I should have been married and bearing grandchildren for her. I used to think it was just her being thoughtful, but since Nma’s wedding preparations, her words became a sharp sword piercing my heart over and over again.

She would chastise me at umu Ada gatherings, “Adanna, you know you shouldn’t even be here, I ma na i kwesiri i no be di gi.”

“Hapu ya nu, leave her alone, Ugoeze,” my aunty, Obiageli would always try to defend me, “is it until she brings a bad man to you that you will be happy?”

“Let her bring boy sef, let alone man, ofodu nke di bad,” my mother would respond.

Through it all, I remained silent. Maybe that was what made my mother talk all the more. It’s not that I didn’t have anything to say to her, I was just being respectful. My father also warned her to leave me alone but she never relented in her talks.

Arondizuogu always soothed me. With the tall palm trees that produced excellent palmwine, the sharp sand that covered the earth and the rivers that always looked refreshing. I loved coming home, but my mother was making this visit a living hell.

Today, which was Nma’s Igba nkwu wasn’t different. That morning, when  Nmesoma and I were waiting with Nma in her room for the makeup artist to arrive, my mum had come to see Nma. She poured enough praises on the daughter she was very proud of.

“Nwa mara Nma...
Akwaeke...
Ego oyibo m..
Olu gbajie all the boys...
Tomato jos m...
Baby na yoka...
Asa mpete..
Asa Obodo oyibo m...
The daughter in whom I’m well pleased, you look so beautiful nne.”

“Thank you mummy,” Nma blushed.

“You have made me proud, unlike some people,” my mother said, eyeing me.

“Mummy, leave Adanna alone,” Nmesoma replied.

“Bia, I wasn’t talking to you,” my mother said, ready to face Nmesoma.

“Bikonu, it’s my wedding, can we all be happy,” Nma pleaded.

“Of course baby,” I said, giving my little sister a kiss on her head, “we’ll be happy.”

I left them as soon as the makeup artist arrived. I got to my room and began to wonder if something was actually wrong with me. I never took my mum’s talks seriously before but it started to look like a cause to worry. It’s not like I hadn’t dated before or being in love, it just never worked out. It was either the guy left because I was older, or because I was my own boss or he just simply got tired of me.