A carnival.
Those would be the words best suited to the occasion.
The Atilogwu dancers were already on stage, and everyone was seated around them in a semicircle under the tents. The sound of the ikoro, paired with the flute, and the body movement of the dancers, totally captivated the audience in such a way that nobody paid I and Oluchi any attention as we slipped into their midst.
When the dance ended, Mazi Mbekwe walked to the centre of the stage, his huge protruding belly could be seen first before you noticed his receding hairline. He was the kind of man who loved attention and was eager to please; this always earned him the MC title at these traditional events. I knew him because he is my father’s friend.
“Umunna kwenu!”
“Yaa”
“Kwenu!”
“Yaa!”
“Kwezuo nu!”
“Eiiiiiii!”
“Today we’re here to celebrate our beautiful daughters who have come of age to be considered women. We’ve also brought our sons, perhaps they may find any daughter of yours beautiful and eligible to marry…”
At this statement, Oluchi let out a gleeful sound and squeezed my hands softly; luckily, the sound was loud enough to be heard only by me. I shot her a mean side eye, shaking my head.
“...this is more than an event, this is the strengthening of the umunna bond. If my son marries your daughter, we become one. We can expand business horizons…”
Turning my eyes away from Mazi Mbekwe, I scanned the crowd. We were seated in the middle, with the rest of the girls undergoing the passage rites. To our left were our parents, exotically dressed and looking like they were being awarded a Guinness World Record for successfully raising girls. My father looked like an ichie in his attire, even his straight back and tight smile seemed dignified. To our right were the Atilogwu dancers and drummers. The far right was where every eye beside me was focused. The eligible bachelors were seated there, staring at us with as much excitement.
Mazi Mbekwe’s speech had faded into the background as voices rose all around me, anticipating who would pick whom.
Oluchi giggled. I turned my head to look at her, then followed her eyes to see a gentleman blow a kiss at her. Irritation coursed through me.
“How is that funny, Oluchi. Ị magị ha, you don’t know this person, and they’re already blowing kisses at you. Is that not wrong?”
Rolling her eyes such that only the white part was visible, Oluchi turned to look at me.
“Nani, calm down, you’re twenty-three, not thirteen. How do you want to attract anyone with how rigid you are? Besides, what do you know about men or relationships?”
My head whipped around so fast to catch Oluchi’s eyes, but she averted them; she had hit a low blow, and she knew it.
She was right, though. What did I know about relationships?
Every guy I’ve met in the course of my life took the form of my father in my head; unable to draw out the safe environment for anything to thrive off of.
My Father. My life seemed to revolve around him.
###
I remember when I first got my period. I was seated on one of our luxurious white sitting room cushions, adjacent to the television I was watching. One leg was tucked into the chair, and the other swung freely below.
The program I was watching was just about rounding up when Nnam walked in, and took a seat opposite the TV. As soon as the chair squeaked under his weight, I got up and headed upstairs. This was our routine; we never stayed long enough to enjoy each other’s presence.
I almost made it to the stairs when his surprisingly soft voice stopped me in my tracks, “Ofuruche, you…” his voice trailed.
I arched an eyebrow quizzically as I turned to look at him. Clearing his throat, he tried again.
“You…”
“You…”
“You’re bleeding, go and get me my car keys, and then have your bath.”
“Bleeding ke, and I’m not dirty. I’ve already had my bath today, “ I began to protest.
Nnam does not speak the same things twice; his silence makes his request final. He just stared at me like he saw a ghost.
Defeated, I grabbed his keys from the dining table and placed them on his chair, then turned to walk upstairs.
I felt it.
It hit me like a punch in the gut. I bent over, groaned and grabbed my tummy. A warm fluid was rolling down my legs, and I felt wet. My eyes followed the movement until it became visible from under my skirt; it was blood.
“Chim o!!, chim o!!, something is happening to me, help me!!!!” I started crying.
My Father, keys in hand, head turned with mouth wide open, couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He looked genuinely terrified, which increased my anxiety all the more.
“I think I might be dying! Call an ambulance!” The crying intensified.
“Wait there.”
I didn’t see Nnam when he got up or walked out because I was engrossed in my plea not to die, until I heard the sound of the door shut.
Hearing the door, I lay down on the floor, wailing. I thought my father had left me to die alone. I thought about my life. People say that in the last seven minutes before you die, your life flashes before your eyes.
The only memory that came to mind was my distant and cold father.
A few minutes later, I heard footsteps approaching and the door opened to reveal Aunty Nnenna with a troubled face and a black nylon bag in her hand.
She passed through the door cautiously, like her footsteps could enhance the dying process.
“ Nani, Ọ gịnị dị, what is it? Your father called me, saying your time had come.”
“But I’m not ready to die yet Aunty. I haven’t even started living” Snot and tears had already drawn unpleasant trails down my face.
Her face unravelled a little, smoothing the wrinkles around her forehead.
“Who said anything about dying? I bụgo nwaanyị ugbu a, you have become a woman now”
I didn’t care to understand what that meant. I was bleeding. What did blood have to do with maturity?
“Aunty, can you not see the blood? Can you not see that something is wrong?”
Aunty Nnenna chuckled, then started to laugh. The kind of laughter that made her hunch over and grab the armrest of our cushion to steady herself.
“Nwa, I gaghị egbu m, you will not kill me. It’s called menses, and it happens to every girl at a certain age”
Still lying on the ground with the pain ravaging through my abdomen and slowly crippling my legs, I couldn’t utter a reply.
“Oya come, Bili ọtọ, stand up, let’s get you cleaned. See, you stained your father’s chair. Anyways, don’t worry about that, the housekeeper would clean it up.”
Coming closer to me, she easily lifted me off the ground with a hand around my arm, and we walked upstairs.
###
“...Okay, before I bore you younglings…” Mazi Mbekwe’s voice roused me from my recollection.
“We open this ceremony. To us, and to our future generations. There’s food right behind us. Please help yourself to it, and don’t forget to mix. Talk to the person beside you, you might never know what might come out of it.”
With that, he went over to the DJ to return the mic as asake’s ‘them never see me coming’ boomed from the speakers.
Hi guys, I hope you enjoyed today’s episode. I decided to tell Nani’s story, and I’d love to bring you along with me.
Please leave a like and comment if you enjoy reading this. I’m also thinking of writing this consistently, so please stick around. I love you guys.