The preparation that led to the day had been hell for Bonney but he had kept on. Some of his friends had begged him to reconsider. “She has a reptutation” they had chanted, drumming it into his ears the least chance they got. His mother had questioned him over and over if he was sure of what he was doing. It seemed like the right thing to do. At least his father agreed with him on that. He had to take responsibility for his actions. His sister had insisted the day he told her what had been eating him up for weeks, that it was a trap. Well, he had stepped willingly into the so-called trap.

It was a cool morning. No sign of rain, just a comfortable breeze, with the birds chirping merrily in the trees that surrounded the compound. He stood there under one of the canopies in his long white linen trousers, with a matching long top down to his knees, short slits on each side with the jolomi designs in a rich brown. His fez was the same brown. On his left wrist was the gold watch she had bought him the past year for his 28th birthday and on his right was the thinnest gold bracelet. He wore beads around his neck…a string of dark brown beads specked with gold. His feet rested in black leather slippers. His favorite cousin, Caro, had made him throw the black in. “brown sandals will make you all too brownish” she had said “the black sums it all up” she had added with that cute smile of hers. She loved him a little more than he loved his own sister, who had grown up into a pretty vile young woman. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned. Family and friends were seated.

“You should be in your seat now.” It was Caro. She took his hand and led him to his seat. He stared after her as she walked away. Somewhere deep down he knew Caro loved him more than she should. He sighed. She was selfless, that one.

When the soft drum music started and Bisola stepped out Bonney noticed her immediately. He lifted his eyes from the handkerchief in his hand with B&B sewn in gold in one corner, and could not avert them again after. He stared. Her lace blouse was a pretty ivory dusted with gold specks. The neck lay softly on her caramel shoulders, and the beads complemented her ringed neck. His eyes moved down to her brown and gold wrapper secured perfectly round her shapely form, then down to her tiny feet strapped in golden slippers. On her head was a modest gele in a darker gold. His golden bride held a glass of palm wine in her dainty hands. Her nails were painted a gentle nude, and the back of her hands were painted in artful patterns up to her elbows. She swayed to the beats, taking one calculated step after another towards him, looking more at her feet than who she was walking towards. Look at me, Bisi. Reassure me he thought, as he waited in his seat for her.

She maneuvered through the guests to where he sat, stealing glances by looking up briefly as she approached. Her expression was calm, unrevealing. She got to him and stood still. He looked up, she down. For about half a second the question seemed to pass between them…

Are we sure?

Then she crouched before him, extending her hand with the glass in it. He took it and his fingers brushed hers. She gasped slightly and looked up from behind her lush, dark lashes. There…the answer was there in her eyes. What was it he was reading? It was clear…he had to focus. He raised the glass to his lips and sipped. A smile broke out on her face when he swallowed and looked down again at her. The dark thin line that divided her chin, the glow about her…This is the right thing he thought, and moved the glass down to her lips, painted in a soft red. Those lips. She sipped too and they rose together. Cheers rose from the guests and they both laughed.

His mind was on what he had seen in her eyes all through the rest of the ceremony till it was time to dance. When the music started he was jolted back to the present and to his bride. The song was her favourite and the way she had started moving to the song got him moving too;

They say love is blind but I dey see am for your eyes o!”

The song blared from the speakers and it hit him. That was it. It was there in her eyes! She turned to her and she was bent over, shaking her hips, joy spilling over from every step she took, moving to the beats. She was looking at him from the corner of her eye…and the lyrics of the song sank in as he moved too.

You belong to me…baby you be goddess…oya shake your assets!”

She was giggling, her knees still bent, she moved her waist, her arms making gestures in the air. She was beautiful; breathtakingly beautiful. And she was his. His Mrs. His nerves dissolved into a steady quiet and he relaxed completely, moving to the beats with utter abandon, he couldn’t help the wide smiles. She was his!

The song seemed to get louder;

She dun want designer…she dun want Ferrari….she say na my love o!”

He grabbed her gently by the waist as she wriggled it. The crowd was ecstatic; friends and family. They had forgotten they were the same people who had been tensed up weeks, days before…that the marriage was a bad idea. Laughter rained with tears of joy as they all joined in the dance. Bisola straightened and turned in Bonney’s arms. He pulled her close and hugged her tight. And as the baby bump pressed into his abdomen he sighed “I love you” into her ears and her tears flowed. “Both of you”

She squeezed him against her and burst out laughing and crying. The relief was evident.


8 thoughts on “SHE IS MINE

  1. Wonderful read.

    I like it for two things:
    -The song in the story is contemporary
    -You wrote about culture – Nigerian culture.
    The traditional marriage ceremony.

    Hmmmm, is this a fanatasy you had, or have been having?
    It’s because of the name 🙂

    You always make me want to write, particularly by your prose.


  2. Was it inspired by the song? or it appropriately fitted the storyline. You brought out the often trepidations that come with such affairs especially from some family members.


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