In October 2014, my “friend” had called me and excitedly told me she was marrying the man of her dreams. The groom is always “The Man of My Dreams”, “My Own”, “The One”... something sappy.

“Awwnnn,” I smiled. I was happy for her. Finally, she was getting married. That was one of her priorities.

“Yes, he proposed,” I could hear her excitement. She sounded like a child whose mother just gave puff-puff. “We’re thinking of getting married next year, sha. Sometime in May.”

“Okay, now,” I tried not to say something biting. I was happy she didn't ask me to be in her bridal train. I’d have told her “No”. I speak five languages and I can say no in all of them, Dorothy Parker. Do you know the stress that goes into being in a bridal train? I’ll write about that next time.

Out of the blues, sometime in December, she called to tell me that the wedding was in June. I was indeed happy for her. Finally, she was going to get married and leave us gals in the Singles Club. I wasn’t going to miss her. Our relationship wasn’t “flowing” after NYSC. To think we used to be “besties”. Whatever happened to love?

By February 2015, I’d gotten my aso-ebi. The price was ludicrous. I’m too ashamed to tell you. Look at me who goes about preaching financial intelligence. I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that I spent that much money on a cloth I might never wear again. Why was the price outrageous? It wasn’t as if she was getting married to Jesus.

In the wake of PREFRON (President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria) Buhari’s inauguration into power on May 29, there was a bad case of fuel scarcity. My mind didn't even connect the wedding and the fuel situation. Getting fuel was like trying to get water in a desert. There were serpentine queues at fuel stations. Achilles would have cowered from just looking at them. Nigerians are strong and resilient people; when you push us to the wall, we don't bounce back. We simply eke a space in the wall and vegetate there. We still went on with our business despite the fact that the fuel pump price had increased by 100%.

The fuel scarcity didn't deter my friend’s wedding. Stubborn gal! When she told me the date, I was sceptical. How was I going to get to the venue, somewhere in Ikoyi, all the way from Ikorodu? How? As a young gal starting out life, I don't have a car. I won’t borrow my parents’ car. I thought and pondered. I was almost telling my friend that I couldn't make it to her wedding. I had already thought up an excuse. But, my heart told me to go even though my head was asking me to stay at home and do something meaningful with my life.

In my three-inch heels and my clutch to match, I hit the road that wonderful Saturday morning. I knew I wasn’t going to the church service before she informed me of her wedding date. Who goes to the church service? Pah!

I got a BRT (Bus Rapid Transit) from Garage, Ikorodu. Luckily for me, I sat down. Life went awry when the driver stopped at Agric Bus Stop to pick passengers. Have you ever come across this expression: “A Deluge of Humanity”? That was what literally happened. People swarmed into the bus in a nanosecond. I rarely use the BRT; I couldn't say if the passengers in the bus were more than the stipulated number of passenger to board the bus. The passengers standing were more than the ones sitting. With their arms raised to hold the railing for support, the pungent stench of dried sweat hit my nostrils. Jesu! I screamed in my head. I was going to endure this till I got to CMS Bus Stop.

That was just the beginning of my misery that Saturday. It was like some malevolent spirit wanted me to cry a jar of tears so that she’d drink it. That day, I kept on asking my ancestors, who did I wrong? Who should I beg?

"Time flies when you’re having fun, that’s what somebody said". I understood that line from Gloria Estefan’s Can’t Stay Away from You. It was as if we were never going to get to our destination. People alighting at different bus stops plus a crazy traffic jam made the journey seem to last forever. Someone going to heaven would have gotten there, seen God, sang with the Heavenly Host, taken a selfie with Jesus, and returned to earth. Still, we’d not arrived Third Mainland Bridge.

so basically you're a hater masquerading as (former) bestie.
Kontinu.

Eventually, after what seemed like light years, I alighted at CMS Bus Stop. I took a keke (tricycle) to the events’ centre and “luckily” for me, the owambe hadn’t started. Yes! I did fist pumps in my mind. I was going to sit at a “good” place to watch the event. My friend was a bad dancer. Watching her dance like a clumsy cow was going to placate me after all the stress I went through to find my way to her wedding reception. I was going to have a good laugh.

I looked at my wrist watch, 12:10. The reception was meant to start at 12. African Time Syndrome, ATS. I scanned the hall and saw that some guests already seated. I became conscious of the heat when I saw them fanning themselves with their invitation cards. Somewhere on the Island, I muttered. That was when it dawned on me that they were careful with diesel and fuel due to the fuel scarcity. I forgave them.

Thirty minutes later, after sitting in the heat and wiping most of my makeup, the generator came on. The hall began to fill up. I saw ushers walking about forming activity. There’s something about ushers; they have this I’m-Better-Than-You-Because-I-Have-A-Perfect-Body attitude. Their smile reminds you that you’re fat blob. Remembering your fatness might kill your appetite. In my mind, I always say, “Not today, Satan. Not today. I will eat this owambe jollof rice. If I don't, Jolufa, the goddess of Jollof Rice, would not be pleased with me.”

I was seating in my seat when one of the ushers came out of I-Am-Going-To-Humiliate-You Land.

“Hello, please, this seat is taken,” she smiled that smile. Patronising. To Zeus, I wanted to smack that smirk of her face. And she had this fake accent that some Lagos girls affect. They haven’t even entered an aeroplane. Me that’s writing doesn’t have a Visa. Yet.

“Okay,” I smiled back at her. “Where should I seat?” She pointed at the darkest corner of the hall. It was really dark; the light bulb there seemed faulty. It was like she was kicking me out of heaven. Maybe the couple didn't want to see the people there. I looked at the usher. Maybe she didn't see I was wearing the wedding uniform aka aso-ebi. I practically paid to attend this wedding.

READ MORE ON: https://thefemmemedia..com.ng/2015/11/owambe-saturday-1-big-wedding-at-ikoyi.html

IamLEGEND1:
so basically you're a hater masquerading as (former) bestie.

Kontinu.

Go, joor! She dumped me as her bestie. (Sobs)

SunehriLasgidi:


Go, joor! She dumped me as her bestie. (Sobs)

Oya come and do ooh. Don't tell me u r planning to stop. Cos if u stop I won't be happy with u, God won't be happy with u and even the devil won't be happy with u.