The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that society was under a spell, the cost was humongous, how could right thinking people, people with education and lives worthy of emulation, justify it. He thought of his mother, how sometimes it was difficult to feed at home, how she would complain if you over salted the food and if it had to go to waste.

'Don't you know a bag of rice is no longer cheap?' she would ask in that voice that wanted to drive you into maddening guilt, yet when one of his siblings even mentioned marriage, the money came rolling out, cows were bought, bags of rice were purchased, cans of oil will flow in a house where oil was usually but in bottles and meat in the pot was counted before and after each meal to make sure no one got more than one piece.


He would eat to the fullest on such occasions, after all it would take another wedding before such sumptuousness came his way. So when he started dating, his greatest challenge was how to convince her that the best solution was to have a quiet wedding, not that he couldn't afford it.

He knew she and her family might even give a huge sum to support the deluge, but the more he thought about it, the more he added up, rather than spend over and above 1 million feeding and entertaining people who were not even there when you proposed, they could pool the resources together make a down payment on the new mass housing schemes in the city, the ones that give you your keys upfront and then allow you make monthly payments for another 7 years. They could use some of the funds to furnish a house and probably buy a car. This made sense to him, the cost of living was increasing, and when they had children the fees will be enough to make a man calculate the number of children he can produce.


So that night when he got home, he made up his mind to call her on phone and discuss with her, he was going to accept the traditional wedding, because he believed that what should be honoured should be honoured, but this white wedding, they had to have a conversation on the budget. Why do I have to feed 700 people because you said yes?

' you for talk no na' he thought and chuckled to himself. Even Jesus fed the 5000 with fish and bread, if only he could get that kind of miracle now.

'All these pastors sef, none fit change water to wine?' He laughed. At least with that he can hire two tanks of water and put ice, then wait for the pastor to come and do the needful.


When he got into his compound, her golf was parked outside and the lights were on in the sitting room of his one bedroom bachelor pad, the same apartment she had insisted on doing the decor. He had warned her that he was fine with her olans, so far he didn't have to spend his 12 months salary. What was the essence of having a fine home when you don't have food in it. She told him the kitchen, parlor, room and toilet were exclusively hers to set up, which made him wonder if he was to decorate the verandah since that's about all you get in an Abuja room and parlour.

'Obi muo, you are here' he said when he met her in the kitchen making oha with chicken and akpu, an acquired taste from his days of youth service in the east.


" My parents travelled and they wont be back till next week, so I figured I'd come over". After the hugs and kisses, he went into the room all the while wondering how to have the 'conversation'. Donatus, the friendly neighbour came over and they both waited for the food. She didn't like Him very much, according to her, mbaise men are very dangerous, and can not be trusted. He laughed it off and told her his sister was married to an mbaise man, and if his sister's husband was what you called wicked, then he would prefer to meet only wicked men in his life.


"MADAM where is the gizzard?" He asked as Donatus continued to chew silently. She gave him an angry frown, as if irritated that he would ask questions rather than thank her for the food.

" The chicken didn't have any gizzard". She replied and continued walking to the room.

"This chicken must have died of indigestion, how can it be that a chicken didn't have gizzard" he said as he washed his hands, she shot him a look, the type she gave when her face was about to explode from anger.
"Nne, dalu, the akpu reminded me of home" Donatus said , sensing a brewing confrontation, he said his goodnight.

" Donatus has started feeding your mind with rudimentary thinking, you are not even igbo, since when did you care about what parts of chicken I serve you?" Her eyes were venomous, she didn't let him finish his food before cleaning up.

"What does being igbo and Donatus have to do with me liking the crunchy taste of gizzard?" He asked matching her impudence.

"You 've never asked me about gizzard before!"

"You've never cooked local chicken for me till today!" he responded. "Look, if you had eaten the gizzard, you only had to say it, I wont ask you to vomit it na babe. . .na wa oo"


"It is wa for you too! I should say it okwia,? So that mbaise man can go and tell the whole world that I'm a woman, who cooks and doesn't serve her husband the choicy part" she dumped the plates in the sink, it almost broke them.

"Would you leave Donatus alone? These kind of stereotypical thinking is really annoying, you can't judge someone just because of his tribe!"

He was really angry now, at first he thought the mbaise thing was just a joke but she was going on and on, and he really hated people who thought they could define your existence by virtue of were you are from, his girlfriend back in school was surprised when he told her he was ebira. She loooked mortified and with genuine shock she asked in Yoruba 'Do ebiras go to school?' And that was the beginning of the end of their relationship.

"ohh, odiegwu! Defender of dignity, what do you know about stereotypes? " she asked as she put the leftovers in the fridge.


"I know my fairshare, I'm ebira, and some people still think we are naked mountain dwelling neanthertals , with a natural disposition to violence!" The ebira joke came to his mind now. The popular one in Ilorin, where they would say there's been an accident three people and one ebira died. He turned and went into the bedroom. Wondering, how an argument about gizzard had graduated into one about stereotyping and world view, and this was just an experiment of what marriage will be like, yet some mad people somewhere wanted him to cough out a large chunk of his earnings to celebrate getting into a life of probable monthly arguments and sleepless nights.


That night, he didn't move when she came to lay down, they both stared at the roof while the Air conditioning buzzed on as if the it were brooding about their strange silence.

Theirs was a none sexual relationship, not because they were particularly religious, but mostly because it made sense. He was intent on forging a life with her, and it signified some sort of respect; she wasn't just another girl he would have at the back of his cousin's car, or in an unmarked hotel room.

It was fine by him, if she didn't want to talk, but there was a way with her, every night, even though they didn't have sex, they would cuddle, and play with their bodies, she will lay on his chest, kiss him and call him Nwokoma, and it always warmed his heart. It made him feel full, so that night when her body warmth wasn't available to drive away the cold from the AC, he pulled up the blankets and truly thought about the possibilities of chickens surviving without gizzards.


Fresh eggs! That was it, he knew without being told. Fresh eggs in tomato sauce served with yam, that was what he was smelling from his sleep, so when he opened his eyes to see her smiling with the tray he wasn't surprised.

"Nwokoma, good morning. I made you something, we should get some of those special bed trays that you can balance on the bed, this one is really clumsy because of the plastic. . ." She went on and on.

He was thinking about what changed overnight, what trickery is this? Then it struck him! She had always told him to reduce his egg intake. There was a time she banned him from eggs completely, before grudgingly agreeing to once a week only with indomie. He had tried to explain to her why he liked eggs so much, to tell her that it was that fluffy thing he ate with yam once a month while he was growing up, and that the egg usually finished before the yams and you had to eat the rest with palm oil. She was having none of it, ' I care about your heart babe!' She had cooed then, why would she suddenly serve him egg this morning when she knew he ate indomie earlier in the week. He knew, this was either a poison or a bribe, either way, he was not in the mood to die or make peace so he simply stared at her when she was done talking, conscious of her tacit refusal to apologize.

"Sweetheart, wont you eat? I dipped the yams in eggs too ooo, like the ones you like to buy at Chester Fries" she was beaming with that smile of innocence.

"I'm not hungry" he stood up and walked to the bathroom, he could feel her eyes shooting into his back.

He got ready, and whistled while knotting his tie, he saw her put on her slender skirt, pick up her office bags and leave the apartment, she didn't offer him a ride like she would.

After he heard the car leave the compound, he ran to the kitchen and wolves down some of the egg sauce, he didn't touch the yam slices because he suspected she might have counted it, it had taken a lot of self will and grace earlier on to turn down the food . He took a cab too the office and spent the better part of the day trying not to think about the consequences of his food refusal this morning. They didn't talk or chat all day, and she didn't offer to pick him from the office like she was wont to do. When he got home, her box was packed by the couch and she was still in her office clothes.


He was a bit perplexed because he knew he could smell onugbu soup, why would she cook and then leave?

"I'm going back home " she said without looking at him.

The confusions set in, this was a small argument, why would she prepare to leave because of it. Half his mind wanted to let her go, it will save him the headache anyway, but this was what his future was going to be like, laughter, fights and arguments. He might as well start confronting the demons now. He also thought about her mother, she had said his tribesmen were bad husband choices, he would die before he allowed that woman have the right of it.

"Obi muo" he started " I'm sorry about the gizzard, I meant nothing by it, I just like the taste, asking for it wasn't some masculine ego trip, but madam you really need to change your thinking about this mbaise people thing. It really really ticks one off especially when you are from a tribe that suffers the same abuse"


" I don't mean anything by it babe, its just talk. My dislike for donatus is not because he is an mbaise man, it's because he always seems to know when food is almost ready in this house" she said.


That took the wind out of his straight face, be laughed till he felt his stomach begin to ache, then she began to giggle, and they both lay on the center carpet and laughed till they were exhausted. He confessed that he had some of the eggs, she told him she knew, she said he had put it back in the fridge when she had kept it in the microwave in the first place, plus there was oil on the sides of the plate, and they started laughing again.


That night after eating the Onugbu soup she served without meat but with a full plate of fried gizzard, he smiled when she was coming to bed, then he saw her take her nightie from the wardrobe, then he started thinking, what had she packed in the box? When she had slept off, he went to the parlour to examine the box and like he feared, it was empty! He chuckled, trying not to laugh out loud so the neighbours wouldn't think him mad.

He decided not to have that 'wedding conversation' anymore, he knew now why people paid so much for a wedding, it was because you were happy and you wanted the world to know, and you couldn't care less if it left you penniless, so far she was with you, it would be worth every last kobo.