Her Wedding Day

By T. Yomi Obidi

The bride and the groom are the duo-stars of the wedding day, but it's really a day for her - her wedding day. It's the bride we (yes, 'we') have come to see: that bride, the one with the first billing, and the one to walk the street of stars this day. With the groom's very devoted support on this occasion, she dazzles us all on this Her Wedding Day.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Apr 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781773703602

Book preview

9781773703602.jpg

Her Wedding Day

by T. Yomi Obidi

Contents

Introduction

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Copyright

Introduction

The bride and the groom are the duo-stars of the wedding day, but it’s really a day for her - her wedding day. It’s the bride we (yes, ‘we’) have come to see: that bride, the one with the first billing, and the one to walk the street of stars this day. With the groom’s very devoted support on this occasion, she dazzles us all on this Her Wedding Day.

— T. Yomi Obidi

Dedication

A gift from Papa to Tosin

Chapter 1

She was dressed in gorgeous regalia - her wedding gown. Laced with sparkling diamond stones, the gown’s edges around the neck and wrists were serrated and delicately perforated. The gown was well-patterned so as to flow continuously from her neck to below her ankle, where it bounced gracefully off her instep in a continuous spring of majestic strides. Her face was veiled in smooth, transparent white netting with velveteen edges that seemed to trace the boundaries of a divergent beam radiating from some source in her face. Her teeth were occasionally opened in a gloriously structured smile that only such bright sets could produce as she took her calculated, slowly flowing steps from the entrance of the church through the massive congregation, her right hand resting comfortably in her father’s left arm. Her own left hand held toward her bosom the mixed live and plastic flowers wrapped at the base in a rather narrow aluminum-foil plated (or so it seemed) vase.

At the back, a dazzling sheer scarf covered her beautifully curled hair in a manner reminiscent of Mary Slessor in her nursing head gear. Combined with the scarf was a flying white linen that extended lower and wider from her head, beyond her feet, to the arms of her chief bridesmaid who followed behind along an inclined line about fifteen degrees of perpetual deviation from the straight line behind the bride. Following this initial contingent were the maids, the little maids, the flower girl, the ring bearers, and the little masters, all dressed in custom-made attire, the women completing the show with ceremonial gloves of colors that matched their gowns.

The lady behind the procession-of-the-hour could have been Auntie Jemima. But this was no occasion for that so she was presumably the wardrobe designer or perhaps the event supervisor. She followed the train with an air of satisfaction, one that you would expect from a prominent member of the organizers of a glorious event. Latecomers followed behind the bridal train.

"To cast their crowns before Thee

In perfect sacrifice

Till to the home of gladness

With Christ’s own bride they rise."

That was the last verse of the eight-stanza opening song written by John Keble. The procession was still on, so the pastor announced, The first and the last verses again, please. The first verse was quickly picked up by the beaming organist brother of the bride, whose act at the organ was itself a story of artistry at its best, and not far off from a satisfaction of incomparable magnitude. The congregation uttered,

"The voice that breathed o’er Eden

That earliest wedding day

The primal marriage blessing

It hath not passed away."

They were soon on the last verse again,

To cast their crowns before Thee…"

Her father walked her to the only chair beside the waiting bridegroom and released his hold with acutely apparent emotion as he left the side of his only daughter and almost the baby, for there is only one more child, Orin, a boy, and the baby, after her. The rest are older; some are much older. But the near-last ones of the family enjoy just about as much as the last, especially if the near-last is a girl. They affectionately called her ‘almost Ojema’; last baby is referred to as Ojema. You would think this is standard for all those who are last-but-one. But no. The boy does not enjoy that ‘spoiling’. Even the male Ojema better behave himself if he does not want an ambush smack for a misbehavior carried too far by the judgement of the older siblings. But he still has fun; he just can’t compare with the female Ojema or almost-Ojema.

Mr. Amune walked toward his own wife, the mother of the bride. She, the mother, had been smiling and wiping tears simultaneously; they had to be tears of joy. What else could they be!

Temil’Olu was already fidgety. Maybe he was nervous, or maybe he just couldn’t wait to kiss the bride. He looked at her from underneath his falsely closed eyes as if this was not the same Eni-Itan that he had been seeing, talking with, planning with, disputing with, and laughing with throughout this whole time of their controlled dates.

Everyone was seated save the pastor at the pulpit. You all know why we are gathered here this lovely late morning… As the pastor spoke, the chief bridesmaid fanned Eni-Itan with a glass-tattooed pankere-woven fan. This was in addition to the twenty-five operating choral ceiling fans that provided enough comfort for everybody, including Eni-Itan, in the church auditorium. But she was being fanned ceremonially, not functionally. It was an opportunity to display the pankere-woven fan, and, since it was focused on her, to have eyes turned toward her and have all beholders in awe of her beauty, awe of her adornment, awe of the elegant environ, all because of her. After all, it was her wedding day.

The choir sang the anthem, "Eni-Itan mo ba o yo, Temil’Olu ku orire, Oba Oluwa ko fi yin shokan, ko mu yin dele ayo." With a well-choreographed movement of the choir, this chorus took a vibrato turn in the cathedral. Before the choir could finish delivering their apparently well-rehearsed rendition, the congregation had become a voluntarily standing mileke audience, fully immersed in the spirit of the song, and seemingly lost in their own many worlds of celebration. Could it be a fullness of display of how they, the married ones in the audience, would have liked their wedding to be, or a reliving of the joy of their own wedding? Maybe it was an expression of that which those who were yet to marry anticipated in their approaching wedding, or was it the parents of the many yet-to-marry that had troubled the waters and turned the same to honey-in-the-rock and to a moment in Beulah land? One thing is certain: there was eclectic joy as the congregation rocked with this song. In the typical call and response musical style of the African heritage, the choir master went on in an intermittent solo, "Eni-Itan mo ba e yo, Temil’Olu ku orire, Gbogbo ijo lo ba yin yo, eyin ebi ku orire, Eyin ebi Eni-Itan, ebi Justus Temil’Olu, Eku ayo ojo oni, mo ki yin e ku orire, Oba Oluwa ko she won lokan, k’O mu wa dele ayo. He knew that he was good, and he milked it; the congregation would not soon forget what he had delivered! It was as if a rocket of joy had landed in the congregation. Here, joy was contagious, and it was by no means a silent joy. Everybody boogied. Oh, you should have seen the parents of the bride and groom dance like there was no tomorrow. For a moment, one would think it was the wedding of the respective parents, especially the bride’s: Mr. and Mrs. Amune. Speaking of the Amunes, they seemed to hear other music apart from or in addition to the music that the whole congregation was involved in because they kept dancing in step for a while after the music stopped. The congregation thought it was all part of the auditioned steps of the wedding until one of the children, Orin, the baby of the family, approached and said, Daddy, we know you’re happy, and you love dancing, but…" he motioned his head toward their seat. The whole congregation laughed. Some still believed that it was all part of the show, auditioned and accordingly performed. The truth is, it was not. That was quite ironical because Mr. Amune, whenever he delivered his ancestral stories to his children, told of his grandfather, the great-grandfather of Eni-Itan. The great-grandchildren referred to him as G-G-Pa (as in Great Grandpa) Amune. A funny remembrance that they never got weary of hearing was that G-G-Pa would tie a turban around his head, mainly as a statement of fashion, one of many which he had acquired in his many adventures to distant lands. With this headgear on he went to church, and being the grandson of a king, he was unofficially given the front row with his family – the children and grandchildren, one of which was Tamayi Amune, the father of the bride. When they sang and danced in the church, G-G-Pa Amune danced away into the galaxy of peace and serenity so much that he kept dancing beautifully, and seemingly in tune with whatever was playing, unknown and unheard by any other but G-G-Pa, until his children, the father and uncles of Tamayi Amune, sent one of them to pull their father’s agbada and tell him everybody had stopped dancing and settled down. To be sure, he was not one bit hard of hearing. They never figured out whether he actually didn’t know that the service program had moved on to another topic, or if he had just ignored them. There was no one in the second generation recorded to do such, and none in the third generation until this day, the wedding day of Eni-Itan Amune. One would think that it would be a little embarrassing, but no! It was treated by Mr. Amune and Mrs. Amune with ease, grace, and a smooth response as they went back to their seats amidst a standing ovation, creating a side show that was actually now integrated into an already animated wedding. Nivefu later said, Hey, Dad, G-G-Pa did this every Sunday. So? Mr. Amune just smiled. They have a telepathic communication – father and son – on some matters, such as this one.

The pastor whose turn it was to take to the pulpit came up to speak, but thanks to the earlier display by the parents of the couple, the music in the air refused to settle, and the spirit of celebration told him in no words but deeds that You’ve got to wait. This is still dancing time. He temporarily withdrew with a captured amusement that brought the beautifully stubborn congregation into satisfied laughter. He eventually took to the pulpit after the exhilarating encores by the choir and the congregation.

Another song, another pastor, and another, the last, anthem.

All these pastors are talking about marriage, Cleo said to her parents. Why not just one! It was more of a challenge than a question.

I don’t know, said the mother in an unequivocal manner that implied, Don’t bother me with your taunting questions; just be a part of the audience. She, the mother, then sighed in response to the caging question. Cleo’s father just chuckled. This chuckle must have got to her; she knew what it meant, for she seemed to have suddenly changed her mind as she said, I’ll explain it to you. Actually, we have to talk about these things seeing your turn will soon come.

Cleo rolled her eyes and said, Please. I only asked a question. I’m sorry I asked. The father featured a wide-mouthed smile, but did not turn his face toward the conversation. His wife looked at him, and, reaching past Cleo from the back, jerked him. He just smiled the more, not turning his face even one degree. Cleo said to her mom, I saw that. I can see behind me, you know. Cleo was one of the nieces of Eni-Itan. She would actually have been in the bridal train but she lived in France, and could not be sure that she would attend the wedding due to her work situation in France. But it turned out she was able to make it, arriving the night before the wedding.

Although it seemed reasonable to ask ‘Why not just one pastor?’, the pastors were not repetitive. One congratulated the imminent couple, one congratulated their families, and one was the main narrator of the occasion. Evidently, one was going to be the conductor of the meat-of-the-meal, while that very old one would definitely give the benediction; it was traditional to ask for the dismissal of a gathering with the blessing by the old. Mind you, though he did not deliver the sermon, he would still give his lengthy admonition to the couple and to their relatives before he gave the benediction. This was predictable, and expected - one of those That’s just the way things are in this land.