Zara, Chizara

*clearsthroat*

Ladies, l love weddings a lot. Please endeavor to invite me to yours after this. Do not call me a bad friend cos you know I'm just a bloody story teller. Ehen, now that i have concluded my plea, I guess I can start my wedding story.

School days were fun. People form all sorts of stuff. In normal schools, only the girls show off - try to be the first to wear the 'latest', 'capture' the best boyfriends and so on but in a school like UNEC, oh my UNEC, forming isn't restricted to just the girls. Guys too take part in that shit (forgive my language). It unnerves me when i see stuff like a guy saying duh and flipping his "hair" annoyingly when his head is bald. Some let rolls of condom fall off their back packs just to let us know they've got skills. Naive virgins! For four years plus three years strike, I saw things.

On a certain sunny day, I forgot my umbrella and shades and was cursing myself for doing so when someone called out from her hostel window  that she likes my blonde hair. l imagined the way my hair stood against the strength of the wind like l just got electrocuted. Who is this girl mocking? I held on to my 'thank you' like a beautiful life line. Mtchew!

A week later as I was cooking in front of my hostel room, l saw a very black girl waltzing towards me with a very wide smile on her face . Normally, my albinistic eyes won't let me see at such a far distance but she was quite peculiar. Choi! She is shapey. When I say shapey, l do not mean Mercy Johnson's. I mean Nicki Minaj and Beyonce put together in one body. She's got hips, boobs, ass and flat tummy to match. Goodness Precious Me !!! To make curves clearer, she wore a tank top that helped push up her already pushed up breasts, safely tucked into a pair of skinny jeans. Choi!!! Owwowk!! Let's be clear. The shape got my attention but it didn't Keep it. What kept it was the blonde hair she had on. She is BLACK !!! As black as an old woman's ass. Hahaha! She looked like "Willi Willi". I laughed so much my room mates all ran out to take a peek one after the other.Trust girls and amebo.They sat in a little circle and the gossip started. Trust girls and gist.

The girl kept walking towards me like a queen and ...
'Halo...'
Owwwk
'I'm the girl that told you that she liked your hair last week ... '
Ermmm! Wtf?
'... l really like it ...
Obviously! You dyed your perfect black hair blonde.
'Isn't it beautiful?'
How can l possibly tell this girl who was looking at me like a puppy the truth?
'You look beautiful darling.  Very adorable. The contrast of your blonde hair to your dark skin makes you look sexy and daring. Simply beautiful'
I could hear Jesus whispering 'You need Jesus' into my ears. My room mates giggled so loud and I could hear them calling me a liar.

And that was how I got a bad case of followership. Everything I did, Zara did too. Every clothe I wear, Zara would wear too. Every thing I asked, she did. Yet I didn't like her much . There was this weird thing about her that kept me distanced. She told me tales of how her parents are bucks up, how she has an apartment to herself in the 'city' where she stays, how she got a car for her 12th birthday, how she travels around the world bla bla bla. Her stories reminded me of primary school days where everyone said their parents has aeroplanes and helicopters, lived in mansions and visited the president at will. But who am I to say 'Aunty you can lie o'? And for 5 years, Zara took me out, bought things for me which I dutifully shared with my room mates. (If na ogbanje initiation, no be only me Zara go catch)

Two months to our graduation, Zara got engaged! Awwww! How beautiful! I didn't see any ring on her finger though but I kinda believed her as she glowed like never before. She asked me to be her maid of honour and I accepted. The preparation and anticipation had us all worked up. Zara is a rich kid after all. Awesome.

Okay! Here's the plan.We were to be picked by her father's driver on Monday to go to Lagos for shopping, go to the spa on Tuesday, go clubbing and flirting on Wednesday, go for our nails on Thursday and then our hair on Friday. Beautiful plan. God bless the day I met Zara. (Without her, where will I see this kind of anticipated enjoyment?) Girls bribed and cried just to be part of the bridal train. We the 'lucky' ones felt so special like Peter when he was told that he'll be given the keys to heaven.

On Monday, we waited and waited and waited for the driver to come. 8am.. 10am... 1pm... 3pm.. 9pm... no show. Zara continuosly screamed at someone over the phone. That has to be the driver, I guess. Chai! Rumours had it that the 'special' girls got stood up by Zara's driver. The next day, all we heard was "Una no go again?" Zara apologised and asked us to keep calm and have faith. We can always have our one week of fun in Enugu.

Its Tuesday and its spa time
"Em... I don't like any of these spas in Enugu. They are not as good as what we've got in Lagos. Lagos is where the fun is.­..

Its Wednesday! Let's go dancing
"Gosh! These clubs here irritate me. They have no class and is always so crowded like Noah's Ark..." We didn't say anything about nails and hair. Why face another disappointment?

The well awaited wedding finally drew close and on a Thursday,we boarded a bus to Onitsha, her hometown.
"We would have taken a flight to Onitsha but there's no airport in Onitsha..."
Oh puleaseeee! Shatap Chizara! What is wrong with you? (l dint say it out loud but I had my eyes rolling!) Mtchew!
We got to Opi Iweka and boarded another bus going to God knows where. The journey no be here o. We looked longingly at every building we consider a mansion hoping we'll hear Chizara say "We are here" but that never happened.
".... all my father's drivers are out on errands. That's why they didn't come to carry us from Enugu..."
Somebody should help me tell Chizara to shut the hell up. I was still holding the thought of giving her a backhand slap when we stopped at a rough path way and continued our journey by foot. Oowkay. We all forgot that we were chattering some minutes before. I didn't know and certainly didn't care about what others were thinking as I had my mind full with fear that Zara may be taking us to a native doctor.
"Jesus l love you. Yours I am. Yours I want to be. All I have is yours..." I prayed non stop.

"Mgborie a bata go!" (Mgborie is back) someone screamed and lo and behold, dirty, pantless children with soiled hands ran out from different corners of the 'yard' to hug Zara. Owkay! This must be April Fool's day in July. We were ushered to a store where we kept our bags. Its going to be one long scary weekend. Wow!

"Dad said we should use his brother's house for the wedding out of love for his brother, I've argued with him for so long to no avail. We would have to use the bush if we want to pee or poo, the bathroom is that palm frond make shift over there. Gosh! l miss my mirror wall bathroom already. This place is so iirritating....", Zara went on and on. Geez. Does this girl think we are daft or what?

"Babe, can we at least take our stuff to your place and even spend our nights there?". I knew the answer but I just had to ask.
"Dad won't let me. Besides, the house is too far away from here..."

I was tired, angry and had lost all appetite. What sort of...? Well, who am I to complain? Friday came and refused to end.I counted every minute, second, millisecond. Boring! Mgborie abi na Zara called a 'stylist' to come make our hair. Oh yes! She styled us into perfect old women. l no fit shout. Haha! Words cannot explain the way we looked.
"Zee baby, who's making our dresses?," one of the bridesmaids mischievously asked
"Oh! It's my designer in Lagos that will make it. You girls will love it."

The D day finally showed its dawn. I was so excited cos l knew that l would leave the village soon. Our designer dresses finally came properly designed by Ogbuefi Fashion Designer. Haha. It was scarlet red satin. Satin! l dunno if I should call it short or long.A string of white lacey material was added to the tip of the dress making it seem like our undergarment is longer than the dress. Designer indeed! To make us look more interesting, Zara gave us gloves to wear. Gloves! No wonder her name is Mgborie. Ewu awusa.

We got ready in good time with our dresses and hair looking 1952 and our nails and gold heels, 2013. How laughable. Thank God we ignored the gloves
.
"Girls! We forgot to make arrangements for a car that'll convey you to the church. Please, find your way to the church."
"A'iit Zara," we replied through clenched teeth

Somehow I managed a smile. After all, it is written that in all things...
"This is so messed up ..."
"I can't take this ..."
"My goodness..."
We all spoke at once. Every girl had something to say. Don't blame us. Venting is good for sanity maintenance. But what's the point? No be bride squeeze for person motor so? Its either we trek, take bike or keke.

We got to the church so late that we were not allowed in. Not that we complained.It was rather fun cos we sat under the shade of a tree behind the church and ate fried groundnut that we bought from a hawker. Our mouths were longer than a wooden spoon. Immediately the service ended, we found our way home. This time, we trekked. Heels! Stones! Naked children singing and running behind us. My complexion didn't make it easy at all.

The traditional wedding was scheduled to hold in the evening. Nothing else that happened was surprising. Hahaha! That's a lie! How can I not tell this part of the story?

During the trad, we brought the girl out to greet her in-laws, we cut the ribbon, sold eggs bla bla bla. When it was time to cut cake, we were asked to go get the cake that was safely locked away in a station wagon that was parked outside. Hahaha! We did see the cake o but not in the wagon. There were giggling kids munching on something that looked like...like... cake!. More kids heard about the "cake party" and kept coming in their numbers so as not to miss the fun. Hahaha! The kids definitely didn't know that every cake desrves a knife.  And that was how fight started between the bride's and groom's families. Hahaha! Tyres got sliced, heads got broken, hands got fractured, faces got slapped and eventually, Zara's mum was pushed down and she hit her head on a stone.

And that was how the marriage ended. The marriage! Not the marriage ceremony. We got back to school after all vowing never to tell anyone. Things we do for our liar friends. But the story spread anyways! Isn't that why we are girls?

Hope y'all had a great Independence Day!